Late September, That Year
Jennifer and Theresa had only met in college but became fast friends since discovering that they lived two floors apart in the same dorm building and also shared the same discussion section for their general studies class. They'd been roughly inseparable since, spending most of their freshman year together and absolutely no one was surprised when they decided to move in with each other the following school year. They were a perfect pair: Jennifer was by a white girl from the Portland suburbs with cute, mousey features and a budding sense of independence evident in the streaks of green in her dark brown curls while Theresa was Filipino-American, a Biology major with wild eyes and long sunburn hair, still learning to balance business and pleasure.
The prefect pair. Until they weren't anymore.
Late September, That Year
It was surreal; a thing observed and not felt. Time slowed, begging her to commit this moment to memory. Objectively ordinary, personally enchanting.
Maybe it was just cool as fuck.
A clenched fist, lightly wrapped in leather and guided by bad intentions, sailing toward her face, only to stop desperately, tragically short of its destination and recede back toward the fury that’d sent it. She swore she could see the stitching on the 4oz glove, the ridges of the knuckles. Angry, impotent. The truth of a missed punch.
The moment would stick with her for years.
She’d leaned ever so slightly away from the straight right, the last in a flurry she’d let chase her around the cage, all the while slipping, leaning, taunting the danger. Her opponent’s inhale, deep exasperation evident, made one thing clear: there’d be no follow-up. Hell, that punch was the follow-up to one that’d missed even wider. This fight was a conversation and her opponent had spoken her piece for the moment.
Now came Simone’s rebuttal.
Later September, That Year
In a MMA gym in the San Gabriel Valley, CA, USA....
“Ugh, do we have to?” Bailey pouted. Upstairs in the gym on a Tuesday night was the last place she wanted to be. Watching bits and pieces of her last tragic fight was the absolute last thing she wanted to do, but here she was, staring at the flatscreen. She'd watched videos of her fights before, including her only professional loss to date, but that video, that night, hadn't ended with her in an unconscious heap on the floor...
Her disdain emanated off of her in palpable waves, prompting her coach to put a warm hand on her 22 year old shoulder.
“C'mon Lee; I don't much like watching you lose either, but hell, we figure out what happened, why it happened, we can keep it from happening. Obviously it didn't end the way we wanted it, but it's not like it was bad from start to finish: you got a good solid takedown almost immediately.”
The young Texan woman began to soften up with a deep sigh.
“So what should I be looking for?”