A Life Worth Fighting (3 page)

“I wish you would give yourself time to recuperate before returning home after the fight, Friday,” my dad says with concern in his voice.

“Why? I plan to kick his ass quickly. I won’t need time to recoup.”

“That’s my boy.”

“See ya both, tomorrow.” I run the 15 miles home and shower before I call Leah to tell her I am on my way. I dress in jeans, a tee, and boots for Leah’s benefit. Although she knows that I was training today, I don’t want to remind her by showing up in my workout gear. Leah and I have a routine, and I try very hard to stick to it.

When I show up at the shop, Leah has everything done. “Were you slow today?”

“No, but we did have some downtime today, so we were able to stay on top of things,” Leah says.

I walk over to Leah and kiss her and then ask, “Is there anything in the back that needs to be done?”

“No, nothing. We didn’t have a delivery today. I probably should have called you to tell you not to come, Robert. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Don’t be, I would have come anyway. Did Bethany leave early today?” I look around the shop and I don’t see her.

“I let her go at 5:00. I didn’t see a need for her to stay.”

“Leah, you know I don’t like you being here alone.”

“Robert, I’m all right,” she calls over her shoulder as she gets her purse from her office.

When she returns, I say, “If you’re going to be here alone, would you at least lock the doors from now on?”

“No, then the shop will appear to be closed.” She smiles and walks over to me and says, “But I will call you so you can come over and sit with me if that’ll make you feel better.”

“It will, thank you.”

Leah and I have dinner with her parents at their home tonight. We drive together, leaving Leah’s car at the shop. We talk about everything but my fight on Friday.

“Did I tell you that Brooke’s books almost sold out?” she asks with excitement in her voice.

“No, you didn’t. I’m a little surprised by that,” I admit.

“You shouldn’t be. Locals love supporting other locals
.
Especially when the local author writes romance books.”

“That makes sense. But since she is a new self-published author, I thought maybe people would be leery of that.”

“Her book covers are professionally done; that helps.
She’ll be glad to hear that they’re selling so well,” Leah says. “I’ll need to call her and tell her to bring in some more books when she gets a chance.”

We pull up at Leah’s parents’ house and find both of her parents in the kitchen. Her mother, Sue, is standing at the stove while her father, Tim, is sitting at the bar telling jokes. Leah and I walk in and Leah says, “Dad, how many times are you going to tell that joke?”

“Well, there they are,” Tim says as he stands up to hug Leah, then me. “As long as your mother laughs at it, I’m going to keep telling it.”

Leah walks over to the stove and hugs her mom. “Mom, is that Grandma’s homemade spaghetti sauce you’re making?”

“It is,” she says proudly.

“No one cooks as good as you, Sue,” I say, inhaling the delicious aroma of Italian cooking. The three secrets of real Italian cooking are garlic, garlic, and garlic.

Sue removes her apron and walks over to hug me. “I made it just for you, Robert.”

Leah and Tim both clear their throats at the same time and we all laugh.

“What about us?” Tim asks, trying to look serious.

“I made it for the both of you, too.” Sue laughs and walks back over to put her apron back on to finish cooking the pasta sauce. The words on her apron say, “I don’t need a recipe. I’m Italian.”

“Yeah, sure you did.” Leah laughs. “We know who she really loves,” Leah says, walking over to sit next to her dad.

“And it ain’t us,” her dad jokes.

Leah helps her mom set the table while Tim and I walk outside. “I hear you have a fight coming up?”

“Yes, my first fight in two years. On Friday. In Chicago.”

“Gus called and told me. I’m able to go, after all.”

“Good.”

“You just focus on the win.”

“Thank you, I intend to.”

That night Leah sleeps cuddled close to me with one of her legs thrown over mine, one of her arms around my stomach, and her head resting on my chest. I know she is worried about me and I love her for it.

Leah gets up with me in the morning. I had intended for her to sleep in, but she insisted on getting up. While I shower, she makes us a healthy, low-carb, high-protein breakfast, including a protein shake. We have breakfast together and she doesn’t mention the fight. In fact, she avoids it. If she doesn’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.

She kisses me goodbye and stands at the door and watches me until I’m out of her sight. I run the 15 miles to Upper Cut while listening to Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger” on repeat. There’s just something about that song that fills my body with adrenaline. I love the rush I get from the combination of the song and running.

I walk into Upper Cut expecting to see the ring set up for me.
I’m surprised to see it is already being occupied by two other boxers.
Gus and Dad are standing over near the speed bag, talking. I grab a bottle of water and down it as I walk over to them. “There’s sleeping beauty,” Gus jokes.

I look at the clock and it is 6:05 a.m. “Sorry I’m late,” I say sarcastically. “There was heavy traffic on the 15 miles of sidewalk I ran on this morning.” I look at the speed bag and then the heavy bag. “I could have stayed home to do these.” I nod in the direction of both punching bags.

“We know, we think it’ll be better if you to do them here,” my dad says. “We believe the atmosphere at the gym and the boxing ring will keep you motivated.”

I sit down while my dad wraps my hands and Gus gloves me up. The song “The Eye of the Tiger” plays over the intercom and my heart begins to race.
Man, I love that song and the adrenaline it brings with it.

“Are you ready, Bobby?” Gus asks.

I stand up and say, “Let’s dance.”

I stop only long enough to rehydrate and eat. After I spend time on the speedball and heavy weight, I go 12 rounds in the ring with a new sparring partner.

Later that night Leah and I have a quiet dinner at home. She helps me pack for my boxing trip. I watch as she walks into the bathroom and returns with some Neosporin ointment, gauze wrap, and tape, and tosses them into the duffle bag.

I look at her in disbelief. “Sweets, I wish you had more faith in me than that.”

“I do; these are for your opponent,” she lies.

“If those are for my opponent, he’ll need more than that.”

She walks back into the bathroom and tosses another package of gauze into the duffle bag. We go to bed and watch a little television before we make love.

Afterward, she cuddles into me and shares her concerns with me about the fight.

“I’m afraid you’ll get hurt,” she says as she traces circles on my chest.

I kiss her forehead and ask, “You’re afraid I’ll get hurt or worse?”

“Both,” she admits.

I kiss her forehead again and say, “Don’t be afraid, Leah. I give you my word that I’ll be home unharmed.”

She looks up at me and as seriously as she can, she says, “Robert if you lie to me, I swear I’ll hurt you myself.”

I laugh and say, “Fair enough.”

We sleep intertwined with each other until the alarm goes off. When I return from my shower, Leah isn’t in bed. I quickly dress and find her downstairs in the kitchen.

“I thought you could use this,” she says as she hands me a protein drink.

“Thank you, but you should have stayed in bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admits.

I lean in, take her by the arm, and pull her into me. “Please, don’t worry about me.” I kiss her and hold her close. I see headlights coming up from the driveway and I know it’s Dad Tim, and Gus.

“I can’t help but worry.”

Leah

Robert gave me his word that he’ll be home uninjured. I know he can’t promise me something like that. He has no way of knowing that for certain. I stand at the door and wave as they pull off. I have a smile on my face and tears in my eyes. I don’t want him to see me cry. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to my Robert fighting; I’ll always fear for his life. As soon as the brake lights are out of view, I close the door and cry.

I call Robert’s mom, Margie, and invite her to my parents’ house tonight. She worries about Robert as much as I do. I go in to work and go through the motions. My thoughts are only on Robert and his fight.

“Are you all right?” Bethany asks.

With a slight smile, I look at her and say, “I am, why?”

“You just don’t seem like yourself today.”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” I lie.

Bethany and I work steadily. We stock and clean up throughout the day. So at closing time, we can leave.

I get the deposit ready for tomorrow and balance the books. I am excited to see that sales are consistently improving. I call Brooke and let her know the last of her books sold today and I also remind her to bring in some more books when she gets them. I also tell her I’ll pay her when she drops off her books.

I call Mom and Margie to let them know I’m leaving and will be there soon. I decided to stop by the cemetery first. I buy Jamie wildflowers and lay them carefully beside the pink roses that Robert left for her this week. They still look pretty healthy. I pray to God and talk to Jamie and ask her to watch over her daddy if she can. I tell her how much I miss her and how lonely I am without her. I remove the few leaves on the ground and pick away the weeds that have started to grow since my last visit. I carefully touch her name that is engraved in gold, on her black teardrop-shaped tombstone. I say as I stand to leave, “Bye, Jamie. I love and miss you more than life.”

I pick up Margie, Robert’s mom, before driving to my mom and dad’s house.

We drive a distance in silence, both of us thinking about the fight.

“I’m not thrilled about Robert fighting again,” Margie announces.

“Me, either, but what can we do?”

“I know we have to be supportive, but it’s not easy.”

“Believe me, I know,” I say, pulling into the driveway leading to my parents’ home.

Mom always has plenty of appetizers and finger foods on Fight Night. This time, Mom made homemade salsa and she has creamed chicken in the crockpot for sandwiches — a sure sign it's game/fight day in
this
house. My dad loves sports, no matter what kind, including the main sport of the Finnish Wife-Carrying Festival — a race in which Finnish husbands carry their wives while navigating an obstacle course.

We fill our plates and go to the family room where the fight is already on the big-screen television. We sit and listen to the announcers speak about the fighters as they try to get the audience excited. I know this pre-fight announcement will last for several minutes. They talk about the absence of Bobby “The Rock” Grether from fighting and how they expect this fight to be the first of many for him.

Next, they talk about John “Stone” Bailey. I don’t know this guy and I have never heard of him before.
They mention John has a five-bout winning streak, and that Bobby is the underdog, due to Bobby’s absence from boxing. They show pictures of both boxers on the large screen television behind them. The announcer says, “This is certainly a big night and many fans are out to support their favorite boxers.” The camera shows a very packed arena where the fight is taking place. Many of the spectators are wearing red and white to support Robert. After all this time, they still love and admire him.

Robert

I shower and blast “The Eye of the Tiger” on the ride to the fighting arena. It always gets me pumped up.
I stay focused and don’t engage in conversation with anyone in the cab. They know this is how I get in the zone, and they don’t talk to me. We are escorted through the back door and are led into a small room. A small table is set up against the wall with some bottled water, cheese and crackers, and a veggie tray.

I get gloved up and keep the earbuds in my ears with “The Eye of the Tiger” on repeat. I remove them long enough to call Leah. Before I put the buds back into my ear, I hear chanting coming from the other side of the door. I walk over and crack it open. The room is larger than I thought and from where I’m standing, it looks like it’s sold out. Spectators will sometimes wear the same colors as the fighter they are rooting for, and I am happy to see a majority of the people are sporting the red and white colors that represent me.

“It looks like you have a large fan base here,” Gus says as he stands beside me. I scoot over so he can have a better view. He isn’t tall enough to stand behind me and see out. My dad is closest to being my height, but he is still a couple inches shorter. I move from the door, replace the earbuds back in my ears, and take my seat.

After a few more minutes, I watch as Tim grabs my robe. I stand and he helps me put it on. He removes my earbuds and places them and my phone in the pocket. All four of us line up at the door and wait for our cue to walk out to the ring. Someone puts my hood on, and we begin to make our way to the ring. The crowd erupts with yells and screams and it feeds my adrenaline. My opponent is already there, staring me down. His coach and manager are talking to him and rubbing Vaseline on his face.
Load him up, he’ll need it.
When a fist makes contact with a person’s face, the Vaseline makes the surface slippery, making the contact not as effective. On the other hand, if Vaseline gets into your eyes, it can negatively affect your vision or causing eye irritation.