Tuesday brought no surprises. As of eight-thirty ante meridiem, the living room showed no sign of Mahsood except for his suitcase in the corner and a sole pocket-size book in the middle of the coffee table. All of the business paperwork had disappeared along with her husband.
Jane twitched her nose. His early morning escapes would become a trend. Her gut knew it. She adjusted the belt of her gym bag hanging over her shoulder and tilted her head, examining the black leather-bound volume that her husband had left behind.
The gold on the rims of the pages had worn out, and the covers, displaying a line of cryptic symbols for a title, looked shabby.
Mahsood must’ve liked to consult this text. A manual of some sort? A collection of poems? A guide on how to treat your wife as a second-rate human? She clenched her jaw and recalled Nessa’s warning. ‘What if your husband doesn’t love you?’ her friend had said. Back then Jane had brushed off the thought of any romance with Mahsood. Well, she shouldn’t complain now. As long as he kept his end of the bargain, who cared where he wandered. And Nessa as well. Some best friend she was—she’d disappeared after the wedding and hadn’t bothered to check on her roomie.
Urgh. Jane stuffed her hands into the pockets of her athletic jacket and squeezed the car keys in one palm and her phone in another. After staring at the mysterious publication for another moment, she marched out, slamming the door behind her. She had places to be, too. Her wonderful life was full of meaningful things and important, interesting people.
Jane drove eastward through the rush hour traffic. She entered a busy shopping plaza and parked next to one of the storefronts. The establishment's full-length windows revealed a dozen men in white gis wriggling like earthworms on blue training mats.
Jane locked her Prius with a loud ‘beep’ and stepped inside the martial arts studio.
The red-haired young guy at the reception desk waved at her. “J! You usually come in the evenings.”
“Hey, Ty. Taking some me-time this week.” Jane opened the organizer box on the counter and located her card, which teemed with heavy, black-ink cross marks, one for every class she’d attended. Grabbing the notecard out of the container, Jane proceeded to the ladies’ locker room.
The tiny space, a walk-in pantry made into a changing room, had enough square footage for one and a half people. Jane didn’t mind. She rarely shared it with another woman. A few female members attended the studio. Theoretically. They showed up once in a while catching a free hour from their husbands and babies or a break between pregnancies.
Dropping her bag on the carpet, Jane removed her sneakers and outwear. She put on stiff drawstring trousers over her leggings and covered her T-shirt with a white cotton jacket, which she tied with a purple four-striped belt. Dressing for practice in layers had become a habit on par with holding her breath when tucked under someone’s stinky armpit. As their coach repeated, a jiu-jitsu fighter must either stand on the other side of the room or clench the opponent in a tight embrace and never hover at a distance of a punch.
“On the line.” Will Stiller’s roar resounded in the training hall.
Jane hastened to the mats. Her bare feet sprung on the cool, sticky surface as she crammed into a string of martial artists next to a massive balding man.
“What’s up, Hank. Would you like to be my partner again?” she said to him, her voice ringing in the near-quiet.
The hulk sighed and looked around at his snickering buddies. “J, why you never pick opponents your own size?”
Jane shrugged. “What’s the point in fighting someone weak?”
Will clapped once. “Double leg takedown. Let’s go, guys...and girls.”
The men scattered throughout the area, from the whitewashed wall bearing the poster of the Grandmaster to the opposite panel of mirrors.
“Over here.” Jane pointed to an empty section to the left.
Hank moved to the spot she indicated and rubbed the back of his neck. “You first, chicken bones.”
Jane planted herself across from him and surveyed his physique. As tall as Mahsood but wider in shoulders and much thicker in the waist. She would need all her strength to topple this mountain. Throwing one hand out, Jane ducked, slid forward, and grabbed Hank under his knees, pulling his legs toward her and pushing his torso with her forehead.
The huge body swayed and with a deafening thud fell back.
Blood thumping in her veins, Jane followed him down and landed on top. She pressed her nose into the grutty gi on his chest, clasped the giant’s slippery neck with one arm, and wrapped her lower limbs around his.
“Don’t let your partner get up,” called Will.
The behemoth stirred underneath her.
Panting, she shifted her weight and pushed him back to the ground.
Will’s feet passed inches from her face. “J, use your arm as a lever. Don’t try to crush him with your weight.”
She gritted her teeth and adjusted her grasp.
Hank’s hand flew in between their bodies and hit her chest, sending Jane up into the air.
Pain crushed her skull. She hadn’t reacted fast enough to breakfall.
Hank towered over her. “You ok?”
“Uh-huh.” She shook her head and got up. “Switch places.”
Hank bulldozed her in one sweep and climbed on top. The folds of his unwashed jacket suffocated her. His sweat dripped down, forming a puddle underneath her.
Struggling to get up, Jane managed to turn over and get on her knees.
An anaconda-like arm clenched her throat, pushing out all oxygen.
Black dots danced in front of her eyes as her body stiffened, unable to move. On her last breath, Jane tapped Hank’s elbow and fell back.
Starring at the plaster ceiling, she gulped for air. Her mind went blank. Free of worries. Liberated of everything. Jane touched her neck. Bruises would appear tomorrow. Who cared about those. Or about what her husband ate for dinner, where to buy cardamom pods, or whether the chicken was halal. Such meaningless concerns. Propopping herself up on one elbow, she rose.
“Again.” She coughed.
Hank grinned. “Tough girl.”
Will circled over to them. This slender man with temples treated fighting like art. He calculated every movement to a millimeter, turning jiu-jitsu into a dance of an unimaginable balance backed by perfect knowledge of the human body.
“J, sorry to break it to you, but you won’t keep Hank down with your force alone.” Will chuckled. “You gotta prevent him from finding support. Tricky with someone three times your size but doable. Look here.” He bent his upper extremity and swung it. “Like that. Squeeze his elbow and take out his hold.”
Jane nodded. “Let’s try it.” She rushed at Hank, taking him to the ground, climbed on top, and wobbled from side to side, knocking his arms out from underneath him as he tried to pull himself up. She lasted a few minutes longer than the first time.
“Good. Repeat a thousand times.” Will marched on to the next pair of fighters.
“No need to overdo though.” Hank patted his shoulder. “I’m no boy anymore.”
Jane smirked. Under Will’s direction, she wasn’t ‘oh so harmless’ anymore. She stood taller. That’s right. Strong and bold. No husband could bring her down.
Jane continued to practice with Hank, and after he left, worked with other guys, albeit of smaller stature. She stayed for a few hours and returned home in the afternoon.
Her apartment met her with silence.
She expected nothing less. Her muscles sore and her body aching, Jane popped into the shower and closed her eyes. Darkness and peace. No throbbing feelings in her chest. No ricocheting thoughts in her mind. She exhaled. Now she could examine the situation and decide on her next steps.
She’d married a man she barely knew. She’d discovered qualities about him she didn’t appreciate. No surprise. Bad sides emerged in all of her boyfriends after three to six months of dating. At least, Mahsood wasn’t hiding his. Perhaps, he just didn’t want her involved in his family’s business or doubted her competence. Maybe she’d overreacted.
Jane bit her lip and recalled the crease between his brows as he studied the documents. She hated to see him struggle so. She knew she could help, but approaching him again would have to be subtle, calculated. If at all.
Jane grabbed a towel, and after drying off and donning some sweatpants and a T, she marched into her walk-in closet. Stepping over the antique candelabrum she’d stored there after the wedding, she shifted the case with the porcelain tea set and squeezed passed the painting of the pear. Reaching overhead, she pulled down a heavy cardboard box that landed with a thud. Jane ripped off the tape and removed the books that lay on top.
Where was it? She rummaged through a few more volumes, college memorabilia, and stationary. From the bottom, she pulled out a textbook she’d used in her freshman year—Introduction to Accounting. Just what Mahsood needed.
Jane smiled and sat down on the floor, placing the text on her lap. She found some highlighters and stickies in the same box, and flipping through the pages, marked the relevant passages. Half the job was done. Now the hardest part—letting her husband find it. Where should she put it? Well, of course. She walked into the living room and approached the coffee table.
The cryptic black book still lay in its center.
No better place than right next to it. Jane put her offering down and hesitated. Was she doing the right thing? All she could do was treat Mahsood well, and whether he reciprocated was beyond her control. So why worry? Live on and let be. She took a deep breath and headed back to her bedroom.78Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhE9zb0TNcD
