Shadowboxer

by Jessica L. Webb

  Jordan breathed. The concrete seeped cold through her jeans, the wind tugged at her jacket and her hood. The tip of her nose was cold, and her eyes watered. She looked up one more time, the lights of the port cranes blurring into blazing stars in the night sky. The agitation slowly left her body, replaced by a resolve that felt familiar. Only the faintest voice asked how many more times she would have to go through this before she believed herself.

  Jordan walked back to her car, feeling calmer as she got in and turned her back on the cranes. The phone she’d wedged into the console rang as Jordan was just about to leave the parking lot. She shifted back into park and checked the display. Ali.

  “Hey. Thought you were working tonight,” Jordan said.

  “I am. I was.” Ali’s voice sounded clipped and flustered.

  “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Madi,” Ali said. Jordan’s heart dropped. “I think she needs help, and I don’t know what to do.”

  Fear spiked. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know exactly. I don’t think she’s in danger.”

  Ali sounded unsure. It didn’t make Jordan feel any better.

  “I’m on my way over.”

  Jordan hung up the phone and put her car back into gear, careening around the curves of the empty Terminal Road faster than she should. She hated not knowing where Madi was. Physically, yes. But more mentally. She’d been so used to having a read on Madi’s emotional state, knowing when she needed space, presence, a lift up to higher ground. This absence was making Jordan crazy. And knowing Ali had some of that information but hadn’t acted in the way Madi needed made Jordan angry.

  She pulled up to the front of the hotel, ignoring the tension in her body, the signal that she needed to gain perspective. Right now Jordan didn’t want perspective. She wanted answers.

  The passenger door opened before Jordan had time to send a text to say she’d arrived. Ali dropped into the seat and Jordan immediately began peppering her with questions.

  “Where are we heading? Any more info?”

  “Hang on, JP. Let me just talk this out. I don’t know that we need to go racing off just yet.”

  The old nickname rankled, but Jordan tried to quash it.

  “Maybe you should start at the beginning.”

  “I don’t really know where the start is. Madi and I have been texting, getting together for coffee every now and then.”

  “Yes, I know that.”

  Ali blinked at Jordan’s short response but kept going. “Madi’s been off the last week or so. It’s like she wants to talk but doesn’t. She wants me around but doesn’t want to answer any questions.”

  Jordan was familiar with this version of Madi. Except right now, Madi didn’t seem to want Jordan around. Hurt stoked the flame just a little higher.

  “So, why do you think she’s in trouble tonight? Right now.”

  Ali pulled out her phone and scrolled through the messages. “I guess just a weird sequence of messages. Saying she’s heading down. Can feel her brain getting hijacked and she hates it. But then saying she’s fine and handling it.” Ali was silent as she scrolled through her messages. Jordan wanted to snatch the phone out of Ali’s hand.

  “May I see?” Jordan could not tell if her question was calm or threatening.

  Ali closed the message app on her phone. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, JP.”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  Ali’s eyes widened. “Okay.”

  Jordan took a breath in and let it out. “I’d like to use the message to evaluate Madi’s mental state for myself. I can tell a lot about how she’s feeling from the words she’s choosing. I’ve got a longer track record than you.”

  Now she sounded petulant, not the position of strength she was aiming for.

  Ali’s features had hardened. “I know that. It’s why I called you. But I’m imagining what Madi would think if I showed you our messages. She’d see it as a betrayal of trust. For both of us. And I don’t want her to shut down or cut us off.”

  Ali was right. She had read Madi with complete accuracy. It calmed some of Jordan’s agitation, taking off just a fraction of the unease.

  “Am I wrong? I’m working blind here with Madi.” Ali was showing her uncertainty, easing Jordan’s anxiety even more. And it made her feel like a complete shit for being so hard on her.

  “No, you’re not wrong.” Jordan rubbed a hand across her eyes and blew out a short breath. “Okay, from what you told me, there’s cause for concern. But I know from experience that it’s way worse when Madi stops communicating altogether.”

  “So what should we do?”

  “I say we tell her the truth.” Jordan tried a small smile. “With a little bit of lie.”

  “Okay, tell me what you mean.”

  “Tell her we were hanging out, and you mentioned she seemed to be struggling. And tell her I flipped out, and I’m being unreasonable. The only way I’ll calm down is if I see her.”

  “She’ll believe that?” Ali was obviously skeptical of this plan. So was Jordan, but she was grasping.

  “No, not really. Maybe tell her I have no food in my fridge, and I’m refusing to go out for pizza until she’s found?”

  Ali finally smiled. “Yes, that she’ll believe.”

  Jordan sat with forced patience while Ali typed. Ali finally dropped her phone in her lap and looked up.

  “Now what?”

  Jordan felt like she was coming out of her skin. “Let’s drive. I can’t just sit here anymore.”

  Jordan headed in the general direction of the apartment Madi shared with her aunt. It was the other side of downtown, which was the next likely place Madi could be.

  “I’m sorry,” Ali said.

  “This isn’t your fault,” Jordan said. “I’m annoyed because I’m feeling completely ineffective. Literally driving in circles. Sometimes that’s all it feels like with these kids, my entire damn job. I’m sorry if I’m taking it out on you. I shouldn’t.”

  “I really hope I haven’t screwed up here. I’ve only known Madi for a month, but she’s already important to me.”

  “Madi can have that effect on people. And, if it helps, I think she feels the same way.”

  Ali sighed and slumped her shoulders. Jordan reached across and squeezed Ali’s hand.

  “Thanks, JP.” Jordan felt Ali tense. She tried to think of something to say, but Ali’s phone chimed and she picked it up. “Madi. She says she’s at a meeting downtown and she’s fine.”

  Jordan sped up and took the next left, angling toward downtown. They didn’t speak until Jordan parked outside the community centre with her four-way flashers on in a tow-away zone. She pulled out her phone.

  “It’s been a weird few days,” Jordan said out loud as she typed. “And a weird night. Ali and I outside the community centre. Would be great to see your face and know everything okay.”

  Jordan hit Send. The slow click-a-click-a of the hazard lights wore the very ends of Jordan’s patience. Ali was silent, her eyes fixed on the glass doors.

  Madi came out about two minutes later. As Jordan and Ali both climbed out of the car to meet her on the sidewalk, Jordan took stock. Madi was tense, agitated. And maybe a little scared.

  “Might be easier to implant me with a GPS tracker, Jordan,” Madi said, shoving her hands into her pockets. It was a weak volley, none of Madi’s usual snap.

  “Maybe for your next birthday,” Jordan said.

  Ali just looked between them, as if sensing the struggle they were having to engage in a real conversation, not this stilted awkwardness with too many things left unsaid.

  “Well, I’m here,” Madi said, throwing up her hands. “And I’m fine. See?” Madi turned a slow circle. “Why don’t you two try a movie for your date night? This is pathetic.”

  Madi seemed okay. But she was hiding something.

  “Maybe you’re right. Thanks for putting up with us.”

  Madi blinked, like she was expecting
an argument. “It’s fine,” she said. “Whatever.”

  Jordan caught Ali’s eye and gestured to the car. “We can head out. Maybe grab a coffee somewhere.”

  “Sure,” Ali said, obviously unsure but willing to follow Jordan’s lead. If Madi needed them, she’d call. If she didn’t, Jordan had to respect her boundaries.

  “Great,” Madi said.

  “Great,” Jordan echoed as she took a few steps back on the sidewalk.

  Helen Cavio came out of the glass door of the community centre. She smiled at Jordan and focused on Madi, completely ignoring Ali.

  “Madi, I was wondering where you’d disappeared to.”

  Madi looked uncomfortable, but she covered it quickly with forced nonchalance.

  “Jordan was just checking up on me,” Madi said, keeping her eyes on Jordan. “But she and Ali have decided they have better things to do with their night.”

  Helena looked between Madi and Jordan, still smiling. “I think you should invite them in. Share what we’ve been working on this evening.”

  Madi turned and stared openly at Helena as if she’d just said something ridiculous. Jordan wasn’t sure what was happening. Madi looked nervous and Helena was nearly beaming. It was discordant.

  “Madi?” Jordan said.

  “Sure,” Madi said, looking back at Jordan. “Come on in.”

  Jordan, Madi, and Ali followed Helena into the mostly empty community centre. She led them to a back conference room which had most of the tables and chairs pushed to one side. Fifteen or twenty men and women were in the room, which smelled of coffee, cookies, soap, and stale cigarette smoke.

  Jordan recognized a number of people in the group, most of whom smiled and called out a welcome. A few looked like they didn’t care, and a few seemed somewhere between disgruntled and suspicious.

  Helena went to the front of the room and Madi squeezed herself into a space in the corner. Jordan was used to seeing Madi at the gym where she was often front and centre, commanding and cajoling. She was always a presence.

  “We have a few guests with us. Some of you know Jordan McAddie, my counterpart in youth services. And her friend…is it Alison?”

  Madi jumped in before Ali had a chance to reply. “Alison Clarke. We work out together at the gym.”

  Jordan thought it seemed like an odd way to characterize their relationship, but Ali just smiled. “That’s right. Madi usually kicks my ass.” A few people laughed, and one person elbowed Madi, who smiled shyly.

  “Yes. Well, welcome,” Helena said. She looked briefly discomfited by Ali’s easygoing response, but she gestured at the wall where three large maps were clipped. “We’re discussing what it means to have a home, to be home. We have a world map, a map of North America, and a map of Halifax. The white pins are places we’ve lived. The red pins are places we have considered home.”

  Jordan looked at the pins on all maps, most of them congregated on the map of Halifax but a few spread across Canada and some into the US. Only three white pins had made it to the wider world.

  “There aren’t as many red,” Jordan said, taking in the maps all at once. “Is that what you’ve been talking about?”

  Helena’s eyes lit up again and she nodded approvingly. “Yes, exactly.” She picked up a tray of pins. “Would you like to add to our map?”

  “Sure,” Jordan said, stepping forward. She took white pins and put one in Halifax, one in Montreal, and one in upper New York State, both places she’d trained. Then she took a red and put it next to the white pin in Halifax.

  “Very good. You’re welcome to speak to your choices, but you don’t need to.”

  “I was born in Halifax, but it didn’t feel like home until I left and came back. That’s why a white and red pin.”

  Jordan looked at Madi, who was now tucked up into the chair with her arms wrapped around her legs.

  “Thank you,” Helena said. She too, glanced at Madi. “Madigan, did you want to make a connection?”

  Madi looked like she wasn’t going to speak at first. “I did the same,” she said quietly. Then she spoke a little louder. “I put a white and red pin in Halifax because I’ve lived in so many foster homes here, but none of them felt like home.”

  “But you searched for it and never gave up,” Helena said. “You never settled. You never let someone else tell you what it meant to have a home. Well done, Madigan.”

  Madi looked like she wanted to be pleased by the attention, but she wouldn’t let herself. Madi looked around at the men and women, some of whom clapped her on the back and smiled encouragingly. Madi’s answering smile seemed pained. Jordan wondered why Madi was so conflicted in receiving this acknowledgement.

  “Alison?” Helena said, drawing Jordan’s attention back. “You are welcome to add to our map.”

  Ali stepped forward without hesitation and took a few white pins. She put one somewhere in Connecticut, one in Chicago, one in New York. Then she took a red pin and put it in Halifax.

  Ali retreated to her spot beside Jordan, but she kept her eyes on the maps, as if searching for an answer she’d just given.

  “Did you want to tell your story?” Helena asked.

  “No, but thank you,” Ali said. Her voice was quiet and reflective.

  Helena nodded and addressed the group. “I think the next time we are all together, we should talk about wants and needs of home. What all homes should have in common, regardless of income, background, history.” Helena closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “As always, I thank every one of you for sharing your strength. This connection makes your voice stronger. Never forget that.”

  The meeting broke up, and Madi was swallowed up by the bustle of the large group. Jordan steered Ali to the exit, and they walked silently through the empty community centre, both obviously reflecting on what they’d just witnessed. Jordan held two thoughts in her head as they got in the car and drove through the quiet, dark streets. The first was that she felt relieved, to know she wasn’t the only one struggling with the understanding of home. And two, Madi was struggling with the attention from her peers and Helena. Something made her uncomfortable. Maybe this meant they were all wrestling with the effort of belonging.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jordan was still thinking about the map activity from the night before when Madi showed up early the next day at the gym, which she hadn’t done in a long time. Jordan welcomed her the usual way, and they worked through the set-up routine like a hundred times before. Conversation was stilted at first, but they found their rhythm, with the gentle verbal jabs and jokes that said “I know you” and “I love you” without having to bring those words to the surface.

  Kids began to trickle in, and Madi kept up a near-continuous yell for them to leave their shoes on the mat so they didn’t track muddy rainwater into the gym. This was Madi in command, tiny and dynamic and caring and commanding. So different from the more subdued and hesitant young woman Jordan had seen at the group the night before. Maybe she just needed time to feel comfortable there, Jordan thought. Or maybe she was uncomfortable with the obvious zeal with which Helena lead the group. Jordan thought she should find a way to ask that wouldn’t embarrass Madi. It would be tricky.

  Ali showed up in loose track pants and a T-shirt, greeting most of the teens by name. With Madi’s silent approval, other kids had gravitated toward Ali over the last few weeks. Some approached her shyly, some with the bluster of teenage awkwardness, and some curious and distrusting of someone so completely outside their circle of understanding. They didn’t expect Ali’s continued presence and her calm interest in their lives. Watching Ali joke around with her kids about the warm-up music, Jordan had to admit to herself she knew exactly how those kids felt.

  It was a good turnout for a Monday. Groups doubled up at circuits, and Ali warmed up with Sierra and Madi while Jordan kept an eye on the number of kids. This many people meant more energy and more history and more potential for drama, but most of the kids seemed focused and chill as Jordan woun
d her way back to Madi and Sierra.

  Madi was in the middle of trying to convince Sierra to register for a fight the following spring as Ali held the target punch pads for Sierra. Jordan and Madi had agreed Sierra was ready for a competitive bout, but as Sierra’s manager, Madi had to convince her. Jordan wasn’t sure the conversation was going well since Sierra was worrying the skin on her lips with her teeth, her doubt palpable.

  “I don’t know, Madi. I don’t feel ready.”

  “That’s why you have me. I hold all the details as well as your worry. You focus on the conditioning and training. I’ve got the rest.”

  Jordan’s heart swelled with pride even as she caught Ali’s mirrored smile. This was why she’d chosen to mentor Madi as a manager. She had the right combination of tough and gentle. She used it with all the teens in the program, friends or not.

  “Maybe,” Sierra said again. “How does it look to the courts, though, Jordan? Are the judges going to think I’m a bad mom if I take up competitive fighting?”

  Jordan registered Ali’s blink of surprise at Sierra’s question before Ali adjusted her stance with the pads and indicated Sierra should start another combination. Sierra smoothly executed it, pivoting and flexing, advancing and retreating with the instinct of a fighter. Jordan waited until they’d finished to answer Sierra’s question.

  “Your connection to boxing looks like you’re setting goals and achieving them. You’re dedicating yourself to a routine and a regimen. As long as you’re keeping out of fights outside the ring, I think you’re good.”

  Sierra stole a glance at Madi.

  “You’re not in a fight. You’re good,” Madi said evenly and, to Jordan’s mind, very deliberately. Jordan looked up at Ali, who was removing the pads from around her forearms. She hadn’t seemed to find the statement odd in any way. Jordan tried to do the same.

  Sierra continued to worry at her dry lips. “Maybe,” she said finally. “Ask me next week, and I’ll tell you.”

  Madi’s face lit up with this tiny step forward. “Aces. I’ll find out everything I can about the fight. Time commitment and travel and all that shit. So you’ll know exactly what you’re signing up for when you say yes.”