“Oh, that’s nice,” my mom said. “What sport?”
“Well, actually, he’s a fighter.”
“A fighter?” My dad’s brow lay crinkled.
“You know, like MMA.”
“Hmph.”
“What Clay?” my mom asked.
My father shot me a look I’d seen many times before and my stomach sank. He didn’t approve.
“Mixed Martial Arts is a gladiator blood sport, not a collegiate activity.”
“Alright, so he came from a rough place,” I said. “This was his way out. He lives in the financial district now.”
I don’t know what caused me to spill all that, but Dad saw right through it. “So he profits in more ways than the fight?”
I could only shrug. Even Gina looked deflated. To give the little snitch credit, she’d only wanted a little teasing.
Dad reached over and placed his hand on my arm. “You’re an adult. I can’t control you. But please, take this family into account. Your mom and I have worked so hard to get you girls the privilege we could never have. Don’t throw it away.”
“I’m not.” I felt like I was back in high school, whining. This seemed overly dramatic, even for him.
“It’s not a matter of what you want, sweetheart. Don’t forget how easy it is to lose your position. All it takes is one slip up. One association with the wrong person at the wrong time. You’ll fall into a system that does not forgive people like us.”
He was referring to our skin, I knew. “I’ll be careful.”
“I trust you, baby. I know you’re safe. I’m just not sure this boy is as comfortable following the law as we are.”
I felt a chill, even not knowing what he could be referring to. I’d seen my privilege today. I’d seen what happened when you had not even an ounce of it. Some people that had no good options chose bad ones. Sean’s skills would be just as useful out of the ring for darker purposes. It would explain his wealth.
My dad smiled warmly and the dinner went on. His words echoed in my head like a salve for the crack Sean had opened up. I had barely scratched the surface of his world. Would it suck me in if I went deeper?
Later, when my phone rang with a familiar number, I let it keep ringing.
A text popped up after:
When do you feel like meeting, Cadbury?
I looked at it a long while, simply wrote “Not sure” and set it aside.
CHAPTER TEN
Sean
Three days without her and I was still sore. No fight had ever done this to me.
I’d gotten the hint that things had gone sour after a full day went by without a response to any of my texts. It had taken every ounce of my training discipline not to ring her up every half hour like some thirteen year old in love. I was infatuated.
By the second night, I was thinking about showing up on her front lawn. I did know where she lived. Luckily, I remembered that a guy from my part of town showing up in her neighborhood would count as breaking and entering, not a sweet gesture.
I’d visited the restaurant and left another message. When that didn’t get an immediate response, I’d gone back and handed off a poster with details for my next fight. Later, I realized what a dumb move that was. It wouldn’t get me sympathy; it’d just be another reminder to stay far away.
Another morning dawned and I sat at my kitchen table, chewing on oatmeal with protein powder. Normally, I’d burn through this in minutes and be already on my way out: to the gym, to hang with my boys or even go out for a prowl. Now I just slumped there, chewing through it like a cow. There was a lingering fog over my head, sending every thought down, even with the day bright outside.
My gaze rested on the table, a dark polished wood thing. It was another one of Troy’s recommendations, but all I could see in it was a cheap veneer of success.
I wanted Gabi. That was true enough, but her rejection stung me the harder cause I could see where it came from. I could hear that voice in her head whispering that I wasn’t good enough. Despite what I’d earned, I was still white trash.
Or maybe that was just my own voice. Deep down, I knew all my strength and all my swagger was just for show. Inside I was just a poor boy making his way up the only way he could, dragging his dumbass friends along for the ride. It used to give me fire, but now it just weighed on me, even after workouts and through nights with the boys.
Well, if I couldn’t escape the tarnish of my past, now was as good a time as any to sink back into it. It was time to get Dad checked up anyway.
I dropped the finished bowl in the sink, grabbed a few things and headed out. Instead of slinking north or off to the side, I drove south, along the river. It wasn’t a steady procession of decay, but the streets swelled with rundown buildings and empty lots for ever-increasing stretches, before the office buildings gave away altogether.
A thin wall marked the beginning of suburbs again. These were tiny houses, but the lots look well groomed and there were newish cars parked in the driveways. That ended after a couple blocks, and I passed house after house with trash and tacky shit littering yellowed grass. Broken down rides were parked all along the curb. Small packs of teens sat aimlessly on steps, drinking and squinting as I rolled past.
I was home.
A few more blocks and I arrived at the place where I’d grown up. Dad’s old red truck squatted in the driveway, and I parked beside. The grass grew wild along the stone path up the lawn, but at least it wasn’t covered in junk.
I unlocked the front door and let myself in. The TV roared down the hallway.
“Pop?” I said. “Sarah?”
The floorboards creaked and my old man peeked in to the hallway. Every year, I saw more of myself reflected in his face, round and grizzled and grumpy. He looked like me with all the sharp lines taken out: me minus the discipline. And minus the oxygen tubes poking out of his mouth.
He just gave me a curt nod. “Sean.”
“Hey Pop,” I said. “You got time?”
“Time for what?”
“I want to take you down to the hospital for another set of images.”
“Hmph.” He disappeared back into the living room. He damn well knew what I wanted and knew he needed it. But he didn’t put much stock in knowledge.
I sighed and set off to the task, but it took only a couple steps to hear the floorboards creaking behind me. I whipped around and caught my sister grinning directly at my face. She yelped and tried to back away, but she was still no match for my speed. I grabbed her tight and kissed her on the forehead.
“Hey, doll,” I said, huddling with her and watching her sightless blue eyes. “You gotta stop doing that.”
“I’m a tiger stalking its prey.” She growled.
Sometimes I thought it was just as good that Sarah couldn’t see. Most of the girls with sight around here were pregnant by her age, but my sister was still that sweet kid. Not dumb though, not by a long shot.
“How’s school work?” I asked. “You need any help?”
“Hah, no thanks meathead.”
She was only teasing, but in my raw state it still registered. “Hey, I graduated, alright?”
“You know I’m just messing.” She felt up my face and ruffled my hair. “Come on, let’s go get Dad.”
She pranced on ahead, not even feeling for the walls. This place belonged to her. She knew its every inch. My heart sank a little further at the dream of pulling her out of it.
When I stepped into the living room, she already had Pop up by one lumbering arm.
“Can’t a man watch some football?” he grumbled.
“You’ve gotta be alive to do that, Dad!” Sarah pointed out.
“Yeah, well, if things didn’t get better inside, this is valuable time you’re making me waste.”
I patted him on the back as Sarah pulled him deftly out into the hall, with his oxygen tank in tow. After Mom ran off, she had practically run the house. She’d been blind since birth, but you could barely tell she was disabled inside these walls.
I think she stepped up to make the two of us feel less guilty about not knowing how to raise her. Pop wasn’t up to much but he would do anything for that girl. It might have been the only thing we saw eye to eye on.
I helped them out of the house and got Pop in the back of the SUV. I pushed Sarah towards the passenger seat, but she jerked away and headed back to the house.
“I need to get some stuff,” she said, then came back out a couple minutes later with Pop’s wallet and her phone and earbuds.
Once we clasped in, I set off towards the imaging center. The only one that accepted Pop’s Medicaid was near my old high school.
“How’s class?” I asked Sarah.
“The usual.”
“I don’t know what the usual is for you.”
“I’m blind and I’m still killing it. Making the family proud. Et cetera.”
I reached across and stroked her head. “Good girl. No one bothering you right?”
“I’m immune.” She moved her hands around like a forcefield.
“Anyone being nice to you then?”
Sarah chattered on about her friends, and I listened carefully for a bit. But then we passed the old burger joint that we used to eat at after we smoked Silvio’s weed. After that came the liquor store that would always sell to Troy under the table. On the next block was the subdivision where Tiffany Rubino had first let me get inside a woman. All of it came flooding back like it was yesterday.
This was me. Most of me still belonged here.
“What about you?” Sarah’s hand shook my knee.
“Sorry, doll, what’d you ask?”
“Is anyone treating you nice?”
I thought a minute and shook my head. “No, but I’m not a nice guy to begin with.”
“You are, though.” She squeezed my knee.
We parked in the visitor lot. I took Pop in to Imaging while Sarah loitered in the waiting area. Pop asked me gruffer versions of Sarah’s questions as we waited for the doctor, and I gave small responses. It’d always been this way between us.
The doctor came in and went through Pop’s old scans in under a minute. He picked out the areas to scan and left without almost a word. I wanted to tell the dweeb that this wasn’t a normal Medicaid appointment, that I’d be paying, but my grim mood kept my tongue from wagging.
The technician took Pop away and I ventured out to Sarah. She sat perfectly still, pen in hand and poised over a notepad. She stared off at nothing, mouthing some words as she listened to her earbuds.
I sat next to her, pulled one out and held it to my ear.
“Hey, give it,” she said.
A stream of some language poured out of it. Chinese? Japanese? One of those.
“Just curious.” I gently put it back in place. I slumped in my seat and stared up at the ceiling.
I’d worked hard just to put us here. Paying for an extra scan for Pop to see how his treatment was going. Getting my sister her special phone that allowed her to function a little like a seeing person could.
All that I’d done, it was just spinning the wheels in place. I could only keep us from falling off a cliff.
The doctor came back with similar news. The scans showed no progression. No regression either. He was going to up the dosage. I’d be spending more money with the hopes of getting Pop back to zero.
We drove home, and I hung out with Sarah and Pop for a couple hours, watching a documentary on TV. I bought lunch from a local chicken place. The time felt like bliss, with my sister crunching down with her head resting on my shoulder, and my father wheezing but still breathing next to me.
Maybe I came from here. Maybe I deserved to be here, but at least these people wouldn’t abandon me. If keeping them put took all my effort, then it was worth it.
Once the food was done and I’d helped clean up, I gave Sarah a tight squeeze, clapped Pop on his shoulder and pulled away in my new SUV.
I wasn’t headed home though. My fire had come back.
I headed to the gym. My fight was tomorrow, but I wasn’t taking any chances. My fists might be all I had, but they weren’t without purpose.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Gabrielle
“He fights at these things?!”
“I think so,” I said to Jada. “Maybe not this one, but one of them.”
“No it’s definitely this one,” Jamal said. “His name’s right here on the flyer.”
We were sitting in Jamal’s garage. He was packing up the guitar, but Jada sat on her stool, brushing her hands through her long braids and looking at me as if were confessing to crime.
I looked at the flyer Sean had been left for me at
Giuseppe’s.
Maybe I should have trashed it, but that felt a bit too cruel. Now Jada and Jamal were hellbent on going. This just seemed like destiny. I’d already dodged it once, but this was a big one.
“Your boy’s winning these things, right?” Jamal asked, with the Jamaican tinge brushing his words.
“He’s not my anything,” I said. “I guess he won the night I met him.”
“Yeah, this that boy then. It’s the biggest fight in the city this month.”
“Oh,” I said.
I remembered his sleek muscular body plunging into me again and again. Apparently that wasn’t the only thing it excelled at. I had no point of reference on what a city championship meant, but by the way Jamal’s lips were pursed in appreciation, it sounded big.