by Naomi Niles
“Did you and Dad happen to watch my fight in Vegas this weekend?”
“No, he was busy working on the bathroom, and I was busy cooking. But I’m sure you did well. It’s a mystery to me why anyone would want to get knocked around in the octagon, but I know you’ve always put your best effort into it and I’m proud of that.”
She hadn’t watched it. I could understand why; it must be hard to watch your own son climb into a ring or cage to get hit in the face and punched in the gut and kneed in the groin.
“Anyway,” she asked. “How’d you do?”
“I did alright,” I said quietly. “I think I did really well.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” she said, and she went on talking about the planking.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jaimie
Despite my offer to nurse Braxton back to health, he spent much of the following week recovering at home. Apart from a single Skype conversation over coffee one morning before work, we didn’t have much time to hang out. “I guess this is one of the drawbacks of leaving FAF,” I told him. “I can’t come over to watch you train and get compensated for it.”
“Perhaps it’s for the best,” said Braxton. “I wouldn’t want you to get sick of me.”
“Me? Never.” I held onto my mug with both hands. “I don’t see you nearly enough.”
At work, I was still settling into my new responsibilities, and finding Eleanor a valuable ally. On Tuesday, the head of H. R. resigned in a harassment scandal, and she was given the unenviable task of interviewing any women who had worked with him during the preceding three and a half years. Before I left work that afternoon, she asked if I would assist her “for moral support,” and we spent the next several mornings together sipping cider in the conference room.
I learned that she had been engaged the year before until she learned that her fiancé was a notorious swindler who had planned to abscond to Florida with her life savings. “You can’t imagine how hard it is to learn to trust again,” she said, “when your best friend betrays you like that.”
“I think I have an idea.” Without going into the full story, I explained to her that I had once dated a man who tried to seduce half my friends. “Unless you’ve known someone for five, ten years, and maybe not even then, it’s hard to know who you can trust. At some point, you just have to take a leap of faith that your loved ones aren’t scheming to murder you behind your back.”
“I know!” said Eleanor, peering down at the long table from behind her thick glasses. “Back before I was engaged, I used to love reading romance novels, but now the only books that hold my attention are mysteries.”
“Girl, same.” There was a box of cake pops sitting on the table. I reached for one and held onto the stem, chewing thoughtfully. “I think that’s why the third Before movie is my favorite.”
“I still can’t bring myself to watch that one.”
“It’s brutal. My boyfriend and I just watched the first two, but I think we might save the third one until we’re engaged.”
“How long have you been dating?”
“Only about a month, actually. I know it seems crazy to be talking about engagement this early in the relationship, but we’re pretty crazy about each other.”
“My great-grandparents both immigrated to Texas from Germany,” said Eleanor. “They grew up in Fredericksburg and met when she was sixteen, and he was seventeen. He went out to a dance with a friend one night—he didn’t even want to go, he had been planning to stay home—and by the end of the night, he and my granny were in love. They were engaged within two weeks and married within a month.”
“That was surprisingly common back in the day. I remember reading the Little House books and being amazed at how early Laura married. Of course, Almanzo was, like, in his forties.”
“It probably helped that back then your dating pool was limited to the boys in your community,” said Eleanor. “I sometimes wonder if we get married later because there are so many more options. The ability to meet hundreds of strangers on Tinder paralyzes us.”
“Well, yeah, because what if you meet the wrong person? Back in the pioneer days, all a girl wanted was a man with a steady job. Now we want a soulmate, a business partner, and a sex partner, and we want them all in the same person. My boyfriend will never be everything to me, and I’m learning to be okay with that.”
“But you obviously seem to like him.”
“I do. Braxton is kind of a dork, but he’s handsome and kind and surprisingly thoughtful, and I love him.”
Eleanor smiled, though her eyes betrayed a hint of melancholy. “If only we could all be so lucky,” she said.
I left work shortly before five pm. Already the air was beginning to cool, and a light breeze played with my hair as I walked through the parking lot to my car. Alarmed by the sight of a silhouetted figure standing in front of it, I froze in my tracks; but fear gave way to relief a moment later when I realized it was only Braxton.
“Sorry if I scared you,” he said, smiling.
“I’m just glad it was you and not some other boy. Anyway, what are you doing hanging around in the parking lot? Shouldn’t you be at home resting?”
“You would think. I was lying on the sofa, cat napping on my chest, when I glanced at the clock and realized you would be headed home soon.”
“I hope you didn’t disturb a cat’s nap just for my sake.”
“He’ll forgive me this one time. Besides,” he added, reaching for my hand, “it’s Friday, and I promised you I would take you out this week when I started to feel better. And I’m feeling better now.”
“Are you? Are you sure you’re not dying?”
“Not even a little. I feel better than I have in days.”
I examined his face, looking unconvinced. The bruise above his eye was still the same color and roughly the same size as a walnut. “Braxton, I love you, but you’re not looking your best.”
“As long as you don’t mind, I don’t see what it matters.” Motioning to his truck, he added, “You ready?”
“What, are we leaving now?” I asked, incredulous. “I’m not even dressed yet.”
“You look dressed to me.” He took me by one hand and drew me close. “Where do you want to go tonight?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I would say Fish City Grill, but we always go there. I’ve been craving egg rolls but also pork chops? Is there a place that serves both of those things?”
“Maybe there is, and maybe there’s not.” He opened the door of the truck. “But either way we’ll have an adventure finding it.”
“As long as you don’t care that I’m dressed for a business luncheon.” I walked around the back of the truck and climbed in beside him.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Braxton
By the time we left Fidelity, the light was fading, and red streaks lit the dusky sky. We ended up eating at Jin Chan Zhang, a local eatery specializing in Chinese and Vietnamese dishes, where Jaimie ordered a tray of spring rolls and a salt-and-pepper pork chop while I contented myself with squid served with ginger sauce. We sat by the front windows, where I had a perfect view of the sun setting over Goose Creek.
“You know what gets me?” I asked her.
“Hmmm?”
“Men who pretend they don’t love sunsets. Whether because they think it isn’t manly or they’re afraid their buddies would disrespect them.”
“I wouldn’t date a man who doesn’t love sunsets,” said Jaimie. “I guess I’m lucky because I’ve surrounded myself with boys who like them and aren’t ashamed to admit it. Randy was always sending me pictures.”
“Do you still talk to him?”
She nodded, scooping up a pinch of my ginger sauce with a long spoon. “He still texts me at least once a day, geeking out over some random thing. Yesterday, it was shoe ladders and a vertical plant hanger. The day before that it was an industrial water tank.”
“What the hell is a ‘shoe ladder’?” I asked.
“It’s like a tiny tower where you can stack multiple pairs of shoes.” She made a gesture with her hands as of a telescope unfolding. “Which, I guess those are cool? I never saw them as something to celebrate. He treats the entire world like some magical place.”
“I wish I were that innocent,” I said with a laugh. “Maybe when I’m older and not so jaded.”
“He went to Pottery Barn this morning,” said Jaimie, “so of course he sent me just picture after picture of pillar candles, and harvest wreaths, and mini-pecan tarts tied with gingham ribbon, and collapsible wall hooks, and plush duvet covers, and white claw-foot bathtubs filled with fancy smelling salts. Which, I guess it’s better than him sending me pictures of his dick.”
“We’d need to have a talk if he did that.”
“Who, you and me?”
“Me and him. Although I would never turn down an opportunity to talk to you.”
“That’s sweet of you,” said Jaimie. “How’s Nick doing since his most recent professional setback?”
“He’s recovering. He’s got another match coming up in a couple months, and he’s been throwing himself into training for that.”
“Good boy. He must be so relieved not to have lost his job.”
“Yeah—wait, how did you hear about that?”
“Randy told me,” said Jaimie. “He still keeps me abreast of MMA gossip.”
“I was about to say, I couldn’t remember ever telling you.”
“Are you helping him train?”
“I am, actually. Bruce had offered, but Nick said he wanted me. And after that last match, Coach isn’t prepared to argue. I could request cocaine and a Bengal tiger, and he’d find a way to get it to me.”
I laughed. But Jaimie gazed hesitantly down at her plate as though not wanting to be done with her meal just yet. “Do you ever wonder,” she asked, “about the people we might have ended up with if we hadn’t found each other?”
“Not particularly. Why?”
“Just something I was talking about with my friend at work. Back in the pre-Internet era, your options for finding a partner were pretty limited, but now you have the whole world to choose from. It’s a lot of pressure.”
I reached for her hand across the table. “I’m not worried,” I said, “because we’re good for each other, and we like each other. I don’t really ask for anything more than that.”
Somehow the words seemed to have a reassuring effect on Jaimie. “That’s a good philosophy.”
“Why, have you been having second thoughts?”
Jaimie stroked my hand with her thumb and smiled. “No, never,” she said. “I’m just really glad to have found you.”
***
I continued to help Nick train over the next several months. At the end of June, we flew out together for a match in Raleigh, accompanied by Jaimie and Charise, the girl he was currently dating. His opponent was an intense young man who styled himself “Figaro” and wore a black mask with faces on the front and back like the one in Amadeus.
“I’ll be honest,” said Nick: “this guy gives me the willies. I think if he ever talked, he wouldn’t be quite as terrifying. Bones ran his mouth a lot, and it made him look ridiculous, but Figaro never talks.”
“Don’t let it get to you,” I warned him. “It’s a psychological tactic designed to unnerve you.”
“Well, it’s doing a pretty good job,” said Nick.
A strong sense of déjà vu came over me as we stood in a musty hallway waiting for the fight to begin. Nick placed his hand on the door leading out onto the walkway but remained motionless as we listened to the referee’s introduction. I kept one hand on his shoulder all the while.
“You ready for this?” I asked low in his ear.
He gripped the doorknob tightly. “Heck yes.”
The referee called his name, and he strode out into the octagon, arms in the air, looking more confident than he likely felt. During the next forty minutes, I hovered near the edge of the octagon offering water bottles and damp towels. Despite his fearsome appearance, Figaro kept to the back of the octagon and nimbly dodged Nick’s advances. It wasn’t until near the end of the second round that I realized why, and how he could be beaten.
“Stay back for a few minutes,” I advised Nick, “and lull him into a false sense of security. Then, when he’s least expecting it, you have to bring the hammer down.”
“You really think that will work?”
“I’m sure of it. And remember: you’re already twice the player he is, and he’s nothing but a speck in your eye. I know it; you know it. In a minute or two, the world will know it.”
Looking encouraged, Nick returned to the octagon. He followed my advice and within a few minutes had pinned Figaro to the ground. In the ensuing scuffle, his mask came off, revealing the disgruntled visage of Luther Van Bones.
“You again?” said Nick, looking aghast. “I should have known.”
Bones squirmed ineffectually and tried to spit in his face, but missed. “You are going to rue the day you ever messed with Bones!”
The fight having ended, Charise and Jaimie ran onto the stage, where they were joined a moment later by Coach and Carruthers.
“Boy, this is really something, isn’t it?” said Randy. He motioned to one of the corners. “Unless I’m mistaken, this post holding the ropes in place is called a turnbuckle.”
“Aren’t you proud of yourself?” asked Jaimie, giving me a kiss on the cheek.
“Proud of myself?” I replied. “Why?”
“Because you made this possible. Sometimes I don’t think you realize what an excellent strategist you are.”
“Well,” I said, grinning, “I won you. That’s the only victory that really matters to me.”
Jaimie punched me playfully in the gut. “Yeah, you did. Now let’s just see if you can keep me!”
“I’m counting on it.” I placed one arm around her, and we stood together shoulder to shoulder while Nick beamed at the audience, basking in the glow of their adulation.
Chapter Forty
Jaimie
Epilogue
“Do you remember how we got engaged?” asked Penny, Darren’s girlfriend, in a quiet voice.
“Do you really think I could forget?” asked Darren. “It was kind of a big event in my life.”
We were tramping through the backyard behind the Savery home. It was late November, but the air was only slightly chilly, like an early spring morning in Boulder. The oaks that lined the back pasture still held onto their foliage as though reluctant to let them go.
I had been dating Braxton for two and a half years, but this was the first Thanksgiving we had spent in Sulphur Springs. All the brothers and their respective partners were coming down for tonight’s meal: Kelli and Zac were cutting up onions in the kitchen while Lori and Marshall were expected within the hour. Despite the intense preparations, Mrs. Savery bustled through the house with indefatigable energy; this was the first time we had all been together in the same place.
“I’ve never actually met Lori,” I told Braxton. “She’s the only one of the girls I’ve never met.”
“I got to hang out with her when I stayed the week in Summerville last summer,” said Darren. “She’s a sweet girl: plain, bookish. Kind of boring. Just right for Marshall.”
“Coming from you,” said Braxton, “that is the highest of compliments.”
Darren glared in annoyance at Braxton. They had been sniping at each other for much of the week, though neither one could compete with Zac when it came to condescending one-liners.
“The other week, we drove down to Austin,” said Penny, “looking for high-quality fall kitsch. No disrespect to the stores here, but if you want real quality kitsch, you have to visit the big cities. We wandered into a Walgreens and found a rack of discount Halloween décor lovingly assembled.”
“Did you buy anything good?” I asked.
“We did, in fact.” She tugged at Darren’s sleeve. “Darren, tell her about th
e hag costume I found, the one with the velvet tassels.”
“You just told her,” Darren pointed out.
“It was exquisite,” said Penny, eyes large and protuberant. “I think I will be a hag next Halloween.”
“Glad you guys are prepared,” said Braxton. “What are you going as Darren?”
“As if I know!” Darren scoffed. “I don’t think that far ahead!”
“Well, you’d better get a move on because it’s only…” He pulled out his phone. “Eleven months away.”
“You’re one of those guys who starts playing Christmas music the day after Halloween, aren’t you?” He kicked at a pile of mulch, which gave off a powerful odor of fresh-cut wood. “I’ll never understand you people who build your lives around holidays. What do you do during the other three-hundred-and-some-odd days of the year?”
“We enjoy ourselves,” said Braxton. “You should try it sometime.”
By now we had arrived at the barn, where the horses were stirring uneasily in the dim light. Penny told me the story of how Darren had proposed to her there. “He had the whole place decorated for me,” she said. “It’s a shame they couldn’t keep it like that forever.”
“Well, it’s an actual barn that animals have to live in,” said Darren. He reached around and kissed her on the top of her head. “Besides, I like the home we’re building together.”
“Oh, me too,” said Penny, folding into him like an accordion. “No disrespect to that.”
Elaborate engagements seemed to be a theme of our visit. Later that evening as we sat around the dining-room table, plates piled high with turkey and giblet gravy, homemade stuffing and scalloped potatoes, cranberry sauce, and cinnamon pecan rolls, Lori related the story of how Marshall had proposed to her. She wore a chunky brass ring on her left hand that looked like a cursed antique.
“I had sensed that he was getting ready to propose,” she said, “but I didn’t expect him to go all out like that. He somehow turned the entire bakery into a library during the one day I was gone. There were more books than I could read in ten years. It was like something out of Beauty and the Beast.”
