Chapter 15: Ropes

On Thursday night I told Gina to leave the lights off.

The last class had gone at nine.

The kids had stacked their gloves in the bin, and the older man by the ropes had finally stopped talking about 1994 and gone home.

I locked the front door myself.

I had a key now, a second brass one on the same ring as the first.

The gym was dark except for the streetlight coming in through the high windows, which laid long gray bars across the canvas.

Gina stood in the middle of the ring with her arms at her sides.

She looked puzzled and a little wary, which was a look I loved on her.

"What's this?" she said.

"A lesson."

"I teach the lessons."

"Not tonight."

I climbed through the ropes in my work slacks and a plain white shirt.

Because I'd come straight from the office and hadn't changed on purpose.

She watched me cross the canvas.

"You're going to teach me something," she said.

"I'm going to teach you to be hit by a stronger opponent."

"You're not stronger."

"I'm more stubborn."

I stopped in front of her.

I put my palms flat against her shoulders, just below her collarbones, and walked her back until her shoulder blades met the top rope.

The rope creaked.

She let me do it.

I felt it in my hands, the choice she was making.

"Stay against the ropes," I said.

"I'm not moving."

"Good."

I reached for a button on her tank top, realized there were none, and laughed.

She laughed too, and some of the stiffness went out of her.

"You've got to work for it," she said.

"I know. I'm working."

I took the hem and pulled it up slowly.

Under the streetlight her skin looked blue and silver, and the muscle along her ribs moved as she breathed.

I had seen her undressed a dozen times by then.

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