The Optimist by Sophie Kipner

Author:Sophie Kipner [Kipner, Sophie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781783523634
Publisher: Unbound
Published: 2017-05-22T16:00:00+00:00

The Ju-jitsu Master

The good news is that there are still men out there who like to wrestle, and there is nothing like a grappler to reinvigorate one’s optimism and confidence. I was watching mixed martial arts on cable the other day (because I had to learn how this whole fighting thing worked) and, well, let me just say, I exploded with excitement. I saw these big, bicep-bulging, ferociously primal men grabbing at each other and just thought, why have I not signed up for ju-jitsu before?

‘Oh, yes, I do love blood sports,’ my mom said as she passed by, cigarette bouncing on her lips like big tits on a Punjabi bus ride. ‘Beautiful bodies, all that contact!’ She was looking for something, a lost bangle or earring. She always thinks she’s lost something, turning pillows over and searching under tables.

‘It’s just so manly!’ I gushed. ‘Not bar fighting, that would make me sick. Just the idea of someone being able to stand up for me if I needed him to. It’s quintessential romance.’

‘Most men cut and run, baby,’ she said as smoke danced its famous dance around the shape of her face. ‘You need to find someone who will fight for you or else you’ll be the only one swinging.’ She stopped at the mirror, grabbed her boobs and turned to the side while lifting them up and down. Up and down, shoulders back. Upright. Smoke and mirrors. ‘Someone who can take the challenge. Someone who isn’t afraid to put his hands up!’ She paused and held her reflection, keeping it in her lungs before letting out her breath. At least she was looking in mirrors again. That was a good sign.

‘I’m just not sure men who will fight for you exist anymore. So it’s just up to us now, it’s just you and me, baby,’ she yelled, thumping her chest like she did when heated. ‘You and I, we’re the ones who will have to fight. You can’t rely on anyone else to, that’s the quickest way you end up alone.’

She was so dramatic; it was fun to listen to. Sometimes she talked with this slightly Southern twang, although it could have just been the wine slurring her speech. It was relaxing, though, the way she spoke, despite her histrionics. Half of the time, I didn’t have to listen to what she was saying because I got what I needed from her cadence.

‘Aha!’ she squealed, finding her lost bangle in her coat pocket. ‘I found it!’ She never actually loses anything. She just has this fear she always has and if something does actually get lost, it turns into a meltdown centered around the despair of all the other things she might have lost that she doesn’t know about.

‘But just because Dad never fought for us doesn’t mean there aren’t men out there who will, right?’

She smiled, not in fond memory of him but more because doing things with emphasis made her feel powerful. She took a deep breath in as she fluffed pillows around the living room, moving from slow to fast at a woozy pace.

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