My entire body tingled with the need to get into the ring as I pushed through the doors of the changing room. I was dressed in my typical fighting shorts, and my hands were tightly wrapped thanks to Buddy who’d taken one look at me when I showed up at the Underground and bumped another guy so I could be in the next fight.
“Take it easy on Brick tonight, ’kay, champ?” Buddy teased, smacking me on the shoulder.
I grunted and swatted his hand away from me before entering the ring.
Fighting Brick was exactly what I needed. Unlike some of the other regulars, he didn’t hold back when it came to fighting me.
“All right, boys, you know the rules. Avoid the face but everything else is on the line. Hope you wore your cups. Brick, I wouldn’t get on this guy’s bad side if I were you. He looks pissed,” Buddy warned.
Scowling, Brick snorted. There was no love lost between either one of us.
“Okay, gentlemen. To the victor goes the spoils!” Buddy dropped his arm and moved out of the way much quicker than anyone would’ve believed a man in his sixties could move.
The cheers and yells from the surrounding audience began. It was a much smaller crowd than had been at the arena earlier that evening, but hearing them took me back to that place. Back to the moment when Luke’s gaze landed on me and the hatred he felt emerged. It was so raw and uncut that I felt it all the way down to my toes.
That was when Brick took his first swing at me, hitting me in the left side of my ribs. I pivoted quickly enough that the hit was more of a graze than a direct hit, but it was the same spot that Luke had made contact with earlier and I grimaced. Both from the physical pain and the memory of his face earlier that night and years prior.
I sent a left hook to Brick’s stomach, causing him to stumble just long enough that I could get my bearings back. But a memory of the past came barreling down on me, throwing me off so much that Brick was able to land an elbow and then a side sweep, taking me off my legs. I found myself pinned on my back, struggling to breathe and shake off the memory of the past to focus on the here and now.
But Brick hadn’t earned his name purely from the look of him. The motherfucker was almost impossible to shake once he had you pinned. I struggled and fought to break free from his arm, which was the damn size of a tree trunk. Somehow I managed to maneuver my leg in a way that I was able to send a kick to his throat, causing him to let me go as he began gasping for air. But he wasn’t done.
I had just enough time to stagger to my feet before another one of Brick’s fists came my way. This time I blocked it with my elbow and sent a jab to the soft part of his belly.
He grunted in pain and stumbled back a couple of times.
Again and again, Brick and I went blow for blow. Exhaustion began to engulf my limbs the same way the pain of seeing my kid brother again in person had. Brick’s movements were slowing down as well, telling of his fatigue. But we kept going.
I became absorbed in the fight, knowing that when this fight ended and I stepped out of the ring, all I had left was to deal with all the shit that had begun bubbling to the surface. That was the last thing I wanted. Seeing my father earlier in the week, learning the witch of a woman who birthed me was dying, and then seeing Luke. It all had sent me to the ring. Where I could, for a time, exchange the physical pain, for the emotional. In the ring I could focus my anger and aggression on my opponent, as opposed to fighting ghosts of the past.
“That’s enough boys!” Buddy finally declared, pulling Brick and I out of our arm and arm head lock. “We’ve got other fighters who want to get in the ring tonight.”
I finally dropped my hands and stood up straight, looking across the ring at Brick. The slant of his eyes and his heavy breathing, which mirrored my own, told the story. We were both done for the night.
“Touch gloves,” Buddy insisted.
Instead of reminding him that we weren’t actually wearing any gloves, I held out my right fist. Brick tapped his knuckles to mine and I ambled my way over to the ropes, climbing down and out of the ring.
I didn’t bother with showering or changing back into the clothes I arrived in. I simply unwrapped my now swollen hands, threw a dark T-shirt over my head, grabbed my keys, and headed for the exit. The brisk night air of late fall sent a shiver through my body, jolting me out of my exhausted stupor just long enough that I felt refreshed enough for the drive back home.
It was semi-dark when I pulled into the garage that connected to my building, but I didn’t miss the woman who got out of the car, as I parked in my usual parking spot on the second floor of the garage. I climbed out of the car and circled around to the passenger side to come face-to-face with Grace.
She didn’t say anything at first. Instead, her eyes lingered on my body, slowly scanning me. She frowned when her eyes caught sight of my hands. She lifted her gaze.
“You ready to talk now?”
****
Grace
No, he wasn’t ready to talk. But sometimes if you wait for someone to be ready for something, they’ll never do it. At least, that’d been my experience. Jacob knew it also, because instead of answering me directly, he took me by the hand and led me to the elevator that took us up to the tenth floor where he resided.
He was silent as we headed down the hall, and he paused to unlock his door, stepping aside to let me pass before he entered.
Turning, I watched him dump the gym bag he carried his fight clothes in by the door and turned toward his hallway. I stepped out of the sneakers I wore and kicked them next to the door before following him. He removed his shirt, and I covered my mouth to prevent the gasp from escaping at the sight of the bruises covering his torso.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I turned and headed out of the room, making my way back up to the kitchen. I grabbed the kitchen towel that hung, neatly folded over the stove’s handle, and then moved to the freezer, opening it for some ice. Better than the ice, I found a couple of ice packs. I searched for a second towel, and finding it, I wrapped the two ice packs in the towels before heading back down to Jacob’s bedroom.
He laid across the empty mattress with one arm covering his face, in only a pair of boxer briefs. Even with the bruises, his body was truly a work of art.
