Rosie the Ripper (Fight Card MMA)

by Jack Tunney

  “Thanks.”

  “Take off those gloves and let’s get down on the mat to run some drills,” Felix said. “I want to make sure you have the transitions down and then we can go through some submissions. You’re gonna be Rosie. You’re gonna be unstoppable.”

  His words made Rosie laugh and Felix laughed, too. They came away from the heavy bag together and settled down onto the mats to work. It seemed like a natural thing.

  ROUND 7

  Rosie still felt the ache in her muscles and joints hours after leaving the gym. On the mats Felix was quick and limber and he knew a hundred ways to catch hold of an arm or a leg and apply pressure that brought immediate pain. By comparison Rosie was a blunderer, applying the submissions inexpertly and losing her grip at critical moments. At those times, Felix would call a stop and tell her to try again. They would try again, and again, and again, until it was done to his satisfaction.

  Afterward he sent her ragged body to the shower. Rosie dressed like an old woman when she was done, but there was something better there than simply her soreness. It was the thing that brought her back to Ground Control morning after morning, and which spurred her to hang a heavy bag in her own living room. She didn’t want to call it pride, but it lasted all day.

  Chris lived south of the city and Rosie battled evening commuter traffic all the way. She turned off Ritchie Highway onto smaller streets running behind the Giant across from the mall and drove the fifteen-mile-an-hour speed limit through a neighborhood of clean, neat houses built to fit the niche between McMansion and townhome. The mostly melted remnants of a snowman stood sentinel in a front yard as she passed. A postman made late deliveries.

  She came to a stop in front of the blue house Chris shared with Diane. The two of them had been married four years and their combined salaries bought luxuries like a suburban home and a pair of entry-level BMWs in the driveway. Both were there now, home for family dinner on a Friday night.

  Rosie was ten minutes early and she had to wait until it hit six o’clock. At the right time, she got out of the Corolla and went up the walk to the front door. She pressed the doorbell and heard it chime inside.

  Diane answered. She was taller than Rosie and, before she got pregnant, she’d been very slender and carried herself with a patrician air. Even now, with the baby a month away, she looked like a model. Rosie knew she worked for a bank and was important in some way. She and Chris met through his business over loan paperwork. They’d been married six months later.

  “Hello, Diane,” Rosie said.

  “Rosalyn,” Diane said.

  “I prefer Rosie.”

  Diane looked at her. “Chris can call you Rosie.”

  Rosie tried to see past Diane, but the woman held the door close and blocked Rosie’s view. “Is Jess ready?” Rosie asked.

  “She’s coming. We only finished dinner a few minutes ago.”

  “What did you have?”

  Diane sighed. “Do you really care, Rosalyn?”

  “I only want to know what my daughter had to eat.”

  “Rosemary chicken with fingerling potatoes, carrots and a salad. Okay?”

  “Thank you,” Rosie said.

  “I guess tomorrow night she’ll have a Happy Meal,” Diane said.

  “I cook for her,” Rosie said.

  “Of course. Here she comes.”

  “Mommy!”

  Jess came dashing through the foyer and squeezed past Diane into Rosie’s arms. Rosie hugged the girl and kissed her on her head and immediately put Diane and her rosemary chicken out of her mind. “Hey, baby,” Rosie said. “How you doing?”

  “Are we ready to go?” Jess asked.

  Rosie glanced up at Diane. She saw Chris come up behind his wife and put his arm around her shoulders. A twinge of blackness intruded on the light. “Yeah, we can go now. Do you have your bag?”

  “Right here. It’s a new My Little Pony bag, see?”

  “I see. That’s great!”

  “Sunday night,” Chris said.

  Rosie stood and took Jess by the hand. Her daughter looked like an Inuit in her winter coat. “I didn’t forget,” she told Chris.

  “We see the judge soon.”

  “I didn’t forget that, either.”

  “Goodbye, sweetheart,” Chris said to Jess.

  “Goodbye, Daddy.”

  Rosie turned her back on Chris and Diane and walked Jess to the car. She put Jess’ suitcase in the back seat before getting behind the wheel. As soon as the engine stuttered to life, warm air blew through the vents to fight the cold.

  She made a U-turn in the street and went back the way she came. Jess fiddled with her watch. It was My Little Pony, as well. “Your car isn’t as nice as Daddy’s car,” Jess observed.

  “Daddy’s car is very nice,” Rosie agreed. The Corolla was the only car she’d ever owned.

  “I don’t care, though. I don’t need a nice car.”

  Rosie smiled a bit and reached over to touch Jess’ hair. Her daughter took after her father and was almost blonde, but she had Rosie’s nose and the same crooked little toe her mother had. That little toe made Rosie happier than dark hair ever would have. “We’re going to have a good time this weekend.”

  “Can we get milkshakes?”

  “It’s freezing outside.”

  “So we can’t get milkshakes?”

  They were out of Chris’ neighborhood and Rosie felt tension bleed from her. There was an old-fashioned diner a half-mile away. “You really want milkshakes?”

  “All the time. Milkshakes are my favorite food.”

  Rosie laughed. “Okay. We’ll get milkshakes.”

  They drove to the diner and the milkshakes were good.

  ROUND 8

  When it was nine o’clock, Rosie made certain Jess brushed her teeth and washed her face and then changed into her nightgown. On nights when Jess stayed over, Rosie did not switch off the heat, but it was never truly warm in the apartment. Jess wore socks to keep the chill from her feet.

  They read a Sofia the First storybook in the yellow glow of the bedside lamp, Jess curled on her side, her pillow tucked beneath her head so she could see the pictures. Rosie did voices and made the tale dramatic. Jess was rapt and, when it was over, she asked for Rosie to read it again. She did.

  “Now it’s time for sleep,” Rosie said. She kissed Jess on the forehead and made sure the blankets were tight. “We have a big day tomorrow. We’re going to go to Port Discovery and have fun.”

  “Nice!” Jess said. “And we can eat at the McDonald’s?”

  Rosie flashed on Diane and tried not to let her expression change. She tried on a smile instead. “Sure, we can get McDonald’s.”

  “With a milkshake.”

  “I think one milkshake is enough for now. Now go to sleep.”

  She turned off Jess’ lamp and went to the door. “Mommy?” Jess asked.

  “Yes, baby?”

  “What is that thing in the living room?”

  “What thing?”

  “That big black thing.”

  “You mean the punching bag?”

  “Is that a punching bag?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why do you have a punching bag?”

  Rosie returned to the bed and sat on the edge. She let her hand rest softly on Jess’ body above the blankets. “It’s something I’ve been practicing with.”

  “Practicing punching?”

  “That’s right. Sometimes at night when I come home, I wrap up my hands and I punch the bag for an hour.”

  “Why?”

  Rosie thought. “It’s just something I do.”

  “What do you mean you wrap up your hands?”

  “Do you want to see?” Rosie asked.

  Jess nodded in the dark. “Uh-huh.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Rosie went to the living room and snatched a red handwrap off the end table by the couch. She returned to the bedroom and sat down. Enough light filtered through the curtain
s from outside so they could see each other without the lamp and Rosie held up her left hand for Jess to see. She let the handwrap unspool and put her thumb through the loop and started with the wrist. The cotton cloth wound silently and Jess watched. “What’s it for?” she asked.

  “You know your hand has a lot of little bones inside, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When you hit something hard, like a person, you can hurt those bones and even break your hand. You put on wraps and gloves to protect yourself.”

  “Why are you hitting people?”

  Rosie paused with the wrapping almost done. “I’m not hitting anybody, baby. I’m only hitting the bag.”

  “But you said people are hard and can hurt your hands.”

  “That’s just what some people do. I don’t fight. I’m learning how to fight, but it’s different from fighting.”

  The wrapping was done. Jess sat up and took Rosie’s hand in both of hers. She ran her fingers over the layers as if reading them with her touch. “Why would you learn how to fight if you don’t fight people?” she asked at last.

  “I don’t know,” Rosie said. “I never thought about it.”

  “Daddy and Diane say fighting is wrong.”

  “Not all fighting is wrong,” Rosie said.

  “But I’m not supposed to hit.”

  “That’s right. Never hit. You keep your hands to yourself.”

  “Should I learn how to fight?”

  Rosie tousled Jess’ hair with her unwrapped hand. “Baby, you can do whatever you want to do. If you want to learn how to fight then you can learn. And if you don’t, that’s up to you.”

  “Okay,” Jess said. She lay down again. “Thanks for showing me.”

  “You get some sleep now. Busy day tomorrow. Port Discovery! Yay!”

  “Can I ask you one more thing?”

  Rosie stopped and sat again. “It’s getting late, Jess.”

  “What’s an alcoholic?”

  A sensation like a lightning strike passed through Rosie’s mind and she slumped for a moment, everything forgotten. She was aware of breathing too quickly. She stilled her breath and found her words. “Who told you that word?” she asked.

  “Diane says you’re an alcoholic, but I said you’re not and she said I didn’t know what I was talking about. It made me real mad and I wanted to fight her.”

  “What did your father say?” Rosie asked.

  “He said not to talk about it.”

  “That’s probably a good idea.”

  “You’re not an alcoholic are, you Mommy?”

  Rosie bit her lip when she felt it tremble and there was hotness in her eyes she brushed away with her hand. She wanted to speak and she wanted not to speak all at once. Her skin prickled with goosebumps. “I can’t lie to you, baby,” Rosie said finally.

  “Is it a bad thing?”

  “It is a bad thing, but I want you to know it doesn’t make any difference to how much I love you and how much I want to take care of you. It has nothing to do with you, okay? And you tell Diane it’s none of her business, and if she doesn’t listen then she can talk to me.”

  “You’ll punch her?”

  “No, I won’t punch her. But she can’t talk about me like that to you.”

  “Diane says I can never come to live with you because you’re an alcoholic.”

  “That’s not true,” Rosie said without force. “It’s not true.”

  “Will I be an alcoholic someday?”

  “God, I hope not,” Rosie said. “Come here and let me hug you.”

  They sat together on the bed and hugged and then Rosie left Jess to sleep. She hoped Jess did not hear her crying through the living room wall.

  •••

  Time passed. Winter gave way to spring.

  “Move away from Tina’s right hand,” Felix called. “Keep it light. Move and jab. Move and jab.”

  They were in the cage together and Rosie was close enough to Tina to catch the fresh, bright scent of Tina’s perspiration as they circled. Rosie stepped lightly as she was told, conscious of Tina’s right hand hovering between them, keeping her own hands up.

  Tina flashed forward and stuck the jab. Rosie pushed it aside instinctively, countering with a jab of her own, brushing Tina’s face and made the other woman recoil. Tina broke their engagement and stepped off a few paces before closing again. Again they circled, tracing patterns on the canvas, around and around. Rosie heard Felix calling for the jab and she jabbed, right hand and right hand, finding Tina’s defense every time.

  “Combinations!” Felix shouted.

  Rosie obeyed. She fired off a right Tina deflected, following it with a sharp left that could not break through. Two rights led to a left hook and then Tina was backing up, the fence looming behind her.

  She pressed on and Tina hit her with a push kick that drove her back. Rosie stumbled a moment and Tina was on her, left and right, high and low, putting together a flurry of punches, battering her toward the far side of the cage.

  “Don’t let her do that to you! Counter! Slip! Let your hands go!”

  Rosie bought a moment with a leg kick and came off the cage with a powerhouse left that caught air. Tina punched through the slip and caught Rosie in the side, but it was not as hard as it could have been. Rosie corrected and tried an overhand right that nearly made it through. In her mind she paced through the practice combinations and went for the body, striking high when Tina dropped her guard. She got Tina flush on the cheek and then they were clinched up.

  “Punch to the inside,” Tina whispered to Rosie when their heads were pressed together.

  Rosie put two in Tina’s stomach and then struck with her knee. They twisted for a long second, tangled up in each other, and then separated. Rosie punched her way out, her fists crashing against Tina’s forearms, until Tina snapped a single punch to the tip of Rosie’s nose and made Rosie’s eyes explode with tears.

  She was blinking against the stinging in vision when Tina went for the takedown. Rosie immediately tried to throw her weight forward into the sprawl, but Tina was faster and they toppled to the mat together. They scrambled, Rosie flailing her legs in an attempt to deny Tina side control. Tina took command easily.

  “Okay, she’s on you,” Felix said. “You need to get out of there. Do what I told you!”

  Tina did not move to advance her position and Rosie knew she was waiting for Rosie to make her move. They were locked chest to chest and Rosie wriggled her arm loose to thrust it between them, bringing her opposing knee up against Tina’s side to make room.

  “Good, good. Keep it up!”

  Rosie reached for her right foot to pull it up and under and rest against Tina’s thigh. It was an awkward motion and Rosie’s hand slipped twice. Tina began to shift her weight atop Rosie and the subtle transition of pressure caused Rosie to fumble harder. She felt the beginning of panic as she failed to execute a third time and then a fourth time.

  “Come on! Get your foot and bring it up!”

  She managed to get hold of her foot and a moment later she had the position. Now she had to push out, breaking side control and establishing a new guard. All of this flashed in her memory, practiced with Felix a dozen times. In those drills he always gave way against her pressure.

  Tina did not give way. Rosie pushed and Tina’s leg stayed solid. Then Tina was transitioning to the mount, her knee coming across Rosie’s belly. Rosie exploded her hips, but it was too little to prevent the movement. Another swell of alarm passed through her as Tina pushed her flat to the mat. Rosie put up her hands, ready for the onslaught of punches to rain down.

  They did not come. “Okay, hold it!” Felix called. He opened the cage door and entered to kneel down beside them. “Tina’s got you dead to rights. She can pound you into the mat or she can transition to a back mount. Either way, you’re in serious trouble. Do you know where you went wrong?”

  Rosie rubbed her eyes. They were still watering. “I don’t know.”

&
nbsp; “You started punching out of control and Tina was able to rock you with a punch and then take you down. When I said let your hands go, I didn’t mean let your hands go wild. All the time you have to be aware of where you’re punching, what you’re punching and how it exposes you. Tina waited for the right moment, picked her spot and popped you a good one. In a real fight, she could have busted your nose.”

  She looked at Felix and then at Tina. Tina was not even breathing hard. “I get it,” Rosie said.

  “I hope so, because you’re gonna need to learn that when you fight.”

  “But I’m not fighting.”

  “Well, you gotta learn it anyway. Come on, Tina, let her up.”

  Tina lifted her weight and allowed Rosie to sit up. She offered Rosie her hand. “You’re doing better. Your ground game’s a little weak, but you almost have the striking down.”

  Rosie let Tina help her to her feet. The phone rang, a loud bell clamoring outside the office, and Felix went to answer it. All around the gym men were working out, practicing the same guards and passes Rosie and Tina did and pounding the bags. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

  “Trust me, you’re all right.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You coming out on Saturday night?”

  “For what?” Rosie asked.

  “What do you mean, ‘For what?’ It’s fight night. Didn’t Tío tell you?”

  The memory came to her – a passing mention, some of the other fighters talking and a flyer on the wall outside the office. She had let it roll right over her. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own stuff, I didn’t even realize.”

  “It’s okay. But are you gonna be there? You can be in my corner.”

  “Where is it?”

  “At the arena downtown. Ten fights on the card. Two women’s matches. I’m going up against some chick from Submission BJJ. I’m going to be all over her. Tell me you’re gonna come.”

  Rosie nodded. “I’ll come.”

  “You’ll get to see what it’s like before you go in there yourself,” Tina said.

  “No, not me.”

  Tina clapped her on the shoulder. “When the time comes, we won’t be able to keep you out of the cage.”