Torn

punching bag

I wake up to the sound of a pounding noise, and I lift my head up to see Pope digging through the pantry

I groan and sit up, blinking a few times to try and get rid of the blurriness from my red, swollen eyes.

I stand up and cringe when I realize my yoga pants are still wet from the rain last night and walk into the kitchen were Pope is still moving things around in the pantry.

"What are you looking for?" I ask him.

"I don't know. Something edible to eat? Everything in here is either expired or covered in mold." Pope complains.

I roll my eyes. "We can stop by at The Wreck in a hour or so and grab breakfast. How's that sound?"

"Fine." He shrugs, and shuts the pantry. The pounding noise continues.

"And what the hell is that noise?" I groan, rubbing my temples where my headache is the strongest.

"JJ." Is all Pope says.

JJ? What is he doing now?

I follow the sound outside. I walk out onto the porch and see the old punching bag hanging from a low branch of the cedar tree. JJ is standing with his arms in front of his face as he punches it. That explains the pounding noise

Smack. Smack. Smack.

We were cleaning out the shed three summers ago, and John B found it under a pile of old life vests and a fishing net. We dragged it out and hung it up on a branch and took turns punching it for hours.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

I walk down off the porch and he glances over his shoulder when he hears the screen door slam shut.

"What time did you get here?" He asks. Smack. He hits the bag again.

"Probably around one." I shrug. Smack.

"Yeah well you scared the living shit out of me. I thought Pope was cuddling me when I woke up this morning." Smack.

"Wait, what?" I ask, my checks turning bright pink. was I seriously cuddling him?

Smack. Smack. Smack.

"I don't care if you were snuggling me, but, it would be a little weird if Pope was. I mean, I love the guy, but not that much."

"Oh." Is all I can say.

He turns back to the punching bag and starts punching it again.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

I walk towards him, walking around the hot tub and tripping over LED lights.

As I get closer to him, I see a tear trailing down his cheek.

"Do you remember the day we found this?" He asks, his voice thick. I nod and smile.

"And John B punched it wrong and was completely convinced that he had broken his arm?" I add.

He smiles a little bit.

"And Pope told him to shut up because it was just Some sort of tension thing going on with his muscles and they argued for like, a hour about it until Pope had to prove it?"