Mikaal

20: Mikaal

Dalia gasped for air as each foot, adorned with black Adidas sneakers, rose and fell into the moist, well-kept lawns of a soccer field. "You should have warned me the surprise would be torture!" she said between short breaths, her eyes firing daggers at Mikaal, who looked gratingly too comfortable jogging alongside her in his black, knee length shorts and grey, Everlast, zip-up hoodie.

"When we get to the boxing part of today, you'll thank me."

Dalia wasn't yet convinced, but it was too late to back out now. It was actually quite uncanny that it was only the other day that she was just thinking about the boxing class Simon had taken her to after her breakup - uncanny that it was Simon himself she had wanted to box!

As they reached the half way mark, Dalia wiped beads of sweat that collected at her forehead with the right sleeve of her yellow, Lorna Jane top. The air that brushed against her face was chilly, typical of a winter's morning - a nice contrast to the rising heat circulating her body in their 400 metre warmup jog.

Although it was clear from Mikaal's steady breathing that he could easily have powered ahead of her, he still hung back, matching her slow, rhythmic pace.

Dalia decided to silence her internal complaints - jogging being one of her least favourite activities - and focussed on enjoying the fresh air that she now inhaled deeply. She began to notice the release of tension from her body as her heart thumped loudly in her chest - she began to feel invigorated. She felt her mind clearing, the frustrations dissipating, opening up spaces for new thoughts - such as how she could nonchalantly draw out information from Mikaal to help unlock the mystery behind his tiff with Simon. She silently rehearsed opening phrases in her head, imagining Mikaal's possible responses - voicelessly praying he would be more communicative than Simon had been.

"Phew!" Dalia said aloud at the conclusion of the lap, the instructor leading them back to the boxing gym. As they re-entered the building where they had left their belongings, they were greeted with fluorescent lights and padded flooring in two colours, black and blue - Dalia chuckled internally at the cleverness in the colour choices - which separated the room into different sections for concurrent boxing related activities. At the back of the square shaped space, along one of the white-painted walls was gym equipment, from a set of dumbbells to different types of weight machines. In front of the adjacent wall to the left was a boxing ring, while the wall opposite featured punching bags of varying sizes and colours, hanging in a row from the ceiling.

"Okay everyone," the instructor Mike's voiced boomed as they each rehydrated, "partner up and grab a pair of boxing gloves and boxing pads per pair. We'll be learning the different types of punches."

Mike proceeded to demonstrate one punch at a time, including 'jabs' that were quick, straight punches with the lead hand to gauge distance and the opponent's defences; 'crosses' that were a powerful straight punch thrown with the rear hand; then the 'surprise' punches aimed at the head, typically slot between jabs and crosses, including 'hooks' that were swinging punches thrown from the left or right in the shape of a hook, and finally 'upper cuts' swung upwards from the waist. This followed with taking turns practicing each punch in different combinations.

As Dalia took her turn after Mikaal, pounding into the red pads that Mikaal set up in different positions as instructed, she had to admit that he was right - it felt good punching 'something' in light of the past number of weeks' vexations. But the challenging part about this catchup was, it was hard to have a conversation when she could barely breathe!

"You pack quite a punch for your petit, attractive figure," Mikaal said with a drawl, his eyes teasing.

Dalia was thankful that her cheeks were already flushed from the agenda so far - that helped disguise the blush creeping up her face. "Shush, you're distracting me!" she said while panting.