Page 59 of Love… It's Messy
I do as Tara said and pummel the punching bag with the mighty force of Wonder Woman. That’s who I picture I am when I’m at kickboxing class. It helps to imagine I’m the immortal Amazon warrior demigoddess when trying to keep up with the multistep kick-punch combination that Tara came up with.
As our instructor, Tara has whipped Melissa and me into shape, along with the ten or so other girls who frequent this class. We only come twice a week to the only two classes she teaches, but it’s enough to keep my waist trim, ass tight, and head from exploding.
“Left foot jab, jab. Straight right hand. Right hook kick!” Tara shouts to the room over the loudspeaker blasting pop music.
I nod and get to work on my sequence.
“What the heck did she say? Left foot jab and then right hand?” Melissa asks from the bag next to me, wiping the sweat off her forehead.
I physically show her the sequence, ending with a roundhouse kick. She nods, and we continue on the bags in synchronized movements.
While Tara is an accountant by day, she started moonlighting as a kickboxing instructor around the time Melissa and I opened our company. I reluctantly came to class because Ainsley was little, but Tara told me to bring a stroller and set her up in the corner. I did, and Ainsley got a kick out of watching everyone work out. Nowadays, she is in school while I work out. It cuts into my productivity, but it’s been a godsend for my mental fitness.
“Okay, girls. Water break. Only take a sip! I don’t need you barfing on my mat because what I have planned next is gonna really get those abs tightening up!”
At Tara’s command, we rise from the floor and walk to the wall, where our water bottles are kept, and drink while we catch our breath.
Melissa looks over at me. “Damn, girl, you’re really going hard today. You only pummel that bag like that when your mother is giving you grief.”
While my mother is usually the reason I need to let off some steam, my true complication is Luke. If I had known all along he’d be such a sweet dad to Ainsley, I would have forced him to be part of her birth. When he kicked me out of his life—literally blocking me—I knew he wanted nothing to do with her. He told me he didn’t want the baby. Now, he’s acting like Father of the Year.
Probably because he missed the hard parts. The sleepless nights, the scheduling conflicts, the tantrums, the stress over vaccinations, the sicknesses, the lack of a social life, and everything else that comes with being a parent of a newborn.
Of course, he’s happy with Ainsley now. She’s a healthy, smart, funny kid. He gets to reap the rewards of hard parenting with some visits to the park and a tea party. He wants to be her dad, but what about when he has to step up and be a father? I have this horrible feeling that she’ll disappoint him. He lives three hours away. A once-a-week visit won’t be enough for her. When he meets a woman and starts a family with her, will he want Ainsley to be a part of his new life?
There are so many what-ifs that I’ve been driving myself crazy. Hence why I need to beat the bag the way I have been today.
I’m not imagining the bag is Luke.
I’m imagining it’s me.
Because no matter how hard I try to keep Luke at arm’s length, he’s all I think about.
My sofa still smells of his cologne.
We ate his leftovers in my fridge from when he cooked with Ainsley, and he’s a great cook.
Joe left a ball of catnip in the living room.
My freezer is home to a bag of leftover Oreos.
There’s a drawing of us on a catamaran stuck to my refrigerator because Ainsley refuses to remove it.
My lips still taste the sweetness of his tongue.
Every reminder makes it harder to ignore that Luke is in our lives. Once we tell Ainsley that Luke is her dad, it’s permanent.
It’s not just Ainsley’s heart I’m trying to protect. It’s mine.
Yeah, that’s a cluster that messes with my head.
“Earth to Jillian.” Melissa’s voice knocks me out of my mental fog. “You totally zoned out there.”
“Sorry. A lot on my mind.”
“I can imagine. With Luke back in the picture, I’m sure you’re going through a wave of emotions.” She’s hit the nail on the head.
Tara gets the class on their backs and says to start with standard crunches. While Melissa and I are lifting our spines off the floor, Tara kneels between us.