Eye on the Prize

by Dmytro Holmes

  “Come in.”

  Jennifer wandered in, already betraying signs of intoxication as she gazed around the room.

  “Well, isn’t this a giant waste of money,” she declared snidely, her look taking in the suite with disdain but Caitlyn knew her well enough to detect the envy in her mother’s tone. The cabin was a two storey, open concept building with three bedrooms and two full bathrooms, one which contained a steam shower and jacuzzi tub. A spacious sunken living room was gently lit by a gas fireplace, and a full kitchen boasted stainless steel appliances. Through a patio door in the master bedroom, a bubbling hot tub waited to be utilized. If Caitlyn had been a fan of the cold, she would have comfortably lived there year-round, but she could not wait to escape the snow, despite its sparkling beauty.

  “It’s what Patrick wanted,” Caitlyn answered simply, turning to face her. Jennifer paused and looked at her daughter and for a moment, a split second, Caitlyn thought she saw a glint of admiration in her mother’s eyes.

  “Well?” she prompted. “How do I look?”

  Immediately, Jennifer’s aquamarine irises clouded over as she scornfully looked her only daughter from head to toe.

  “Well, I wouldn’t have gone that route,” she said, pointing. “But you’re lucky you have my coloring and can pull it off.”

  Disappointment filled Caitlyn even though she expected nothing less from her mother. Another knock at the front door saved her from responding.

  “Come in!” This time Jennifer called out. A blonde, handsome head poked through and Caitlyn’s half-brother Aidan smiled broadly before showing the rest of his body.

  “Catey! You look radiant!” he cried, rushing forward to embrace her. Caitlyn met his outstretched arms with fervor and relished his closeness. Despite their age difference, she had maintained a wonderful relationship with both her siblings. Her regret was that she did not spend enough time with either Aidan or Shawn as they still lived in Ohio. She stepped back to drink in the strapping man and beamed, her chilled heart warming slightly at the sight of the boy she had helped raise.

  “You look so handsome, Ade! Where is Shawn?”

  “He’s with dad. They heard something about indoor golf or something equally boring. Don’t worry. They’ll be here.”

  “Oh of all the stupid – “Jennifer started, irritated at her son and husband. “I mean, they had to go now? Men are so goddamn inconsiderate. I’ll go get them.”

  “It’s fine. I only need Aidan here right now anyway,” Caitlyn interrupted quickly before her mother could start on a diatribe but Jennifer had already sauntered off, having discovered the fully stocked bar between the living room and dining room. She began pouring herself a drink.

  “Mom, maybe you should save some for – “Aidan began but Caitlyn pinched his arm and shook her head. If Jennifer was drinking, she was apt to keep to herself. Caitlyn was not sure she had enough strength to get through the evening. If keeping Jennifer inebriated would help things along, she was all for it. Aidan squeezed her hand reassuringly.

  “Well? What do you say?” he asked gently. Slowly, Caitlyn nodded and reached for the cloak draped along the back of the chaise.

  “Mom? Are you ready?” Jennifer looked up, startled, and chugged back the rest of her vodka. She glanced at her watch.

  “Well I’ll be damned! It’s time, isn’t it?”

  “Mom, did you just drink that vodka straight?” Caitlyn asked in spite of herself. She didn’t know why she was surprised.

  Aidan nodded, rolling his eyes and held out his arm but before Caitlyn took it she turned to look back out the window at the night sky. The stars were twinkling, unhidden by clouds and the moon was a pulsating crescent. Caitlyn blinked, the tears again threatening to spill and her focus turned instead to the reflection in the glass. She saw herself in a long, pink gown, a string of white pearls around her neck. Her hair was intricately done above her head, intertwined with Baby’s Breath and beads. She draped the white fur cloak around her bare shoulders, covering her swelling cleavage, and took Aidan’s arm.

  “Wait,” he said, turning to her. Slowly, he lowered the veil over her eyes. “You’re a beautiful bride, sis.” She forced a smile she did not feel and gently hugged Aidan. As Caitlyn followed her brother from the chalet, she wondered if Mikai would think so too.

  The place reeked of desperation and depression. From the ripped red vinyl booths to the over painted cougars draped over the bar, the joint was aptly named The Hole because that’s precisely what it was; a nondescript box on a busy street which boasted nothing but cheap alcohol and like- minded companionship in which to drown one’s sorrows. Mikai was not sure how long he had been sitting consuming double gin and tonics but his blurred vision gave him a rough drink estimate. He had been there every day that week and the bartender and owner, a middle-aged woman named Sheila had already started him a tab. I wonder if I should tell her I can’t afford to pay it, he thought, but doused the idea with another cocktail.

  “Hey baby, wanna date?” a drunken bleached blonde sauntered up to his table in a tube top and leather pants. She approached him every night, either forgetting that he constantly rejected her or not caring.

  “Get lost,” he mumbled.

  “What?” she screeched. “What did you say to me?”

  Mikai lumbered to his feet menacingly and glared at her.

  “Leave him alone, Tammy!” Sheila yelled from across the bar. “His ex-wife got remarried today.” The prostitute lost her angry expression and made a commiserating noise.

  “Aw poor baby. You sure you don’t want some company?”

  “Get lost!” Mikai thundered again. “Leave me alone!”

  “Asshole,” she muttered stalking away like a wounded animal. Mikai turned to Sheila, peering at her through blurry eyes.

  “Who told you my ex-wife got married today?” he slurred. She came around the bar with another drink for him and he flopped back into the booth, her jelly arms flapping at the movement.

  “It’s all ya been talkin’ ‘bout all week, baby,” Sheila told him sympathetically, placing the chipped glass before him. “Jus’ drink it all away. That’s what I did when my good fer nothin’ ex took off with my sista.”

  Mikai was flooded with a tidal wave of emotions as memories of Caitlyn washed over him. Caitlyn the first time he saw her at Entrance, Caitlyn in the red dress at the work party, Caitlyn naked by the window in his shoddy apartment looking at the moon with a serene smile on her face. Then Patrick whisking her off to Aspen for a winter wedding and she happily becoming Mrs. Patrick…Mrs. Patrick what? He didn’t even know Patrick’s last name. I need to find out where she is. I need to get her back. She doesn’t love Patrick. She loves me. I need to find her and beg her to come back to me.

  After leaving Entrance that day, Mikai had ignored all phone calls and texts from Caitlyn, putting his sorrow and anger into his training. Joe had been impressed at the boy’s tenacity and dedication, not knowing where the unexpected burst had come from. By December, Mikai was in line for the title fight, having successfully won all of his matches by a landslide. The title match was not to be held until the New Year and Joe had suggested a break in training.

  “You have been running yourself ragged, kid,” the trainer had said. Go get some rest but stay away from the beers…and the casino.” That had been December twentieth. On the twenty-first, Mikai was in Atlantic City. On Christmas Day, he had lost every penny he had and owed twenty grand but to whom, he did not know. Somehow, in a drunken stupor, he had borrowed money from someone to make back the money he had lost. That did not stop him from continuing his bender in Atlantic City. The week had been a haze and he had met various people but throughout it all, Caitlyn had been in the foreground of his mind. Still intoxicated, on New Year’s Eve, he hitchhiked back to New York City and stumbled into his apartment.

  There were four voicemails on his home phone. Three were from Joe wondering where he was and Mikai wondered why the trainer didn’t simply text him.
It took Mikai ten minutes to realize that he had lost his cell phone somewhere in his travels. The last voicemail was from Caitlyn telling him that she was getting married on January sixth. Mikai could not breathe. He didn’t understand what she wanted him to do. She had made her choice and her choice was Patrick. I hope that he treats her the way she deserves to be treated always. I can’t believe I will never taste her lips again. He turned and left his apartment, intending to head to SkyTrain but instead found himself in The Hole, sitting at the bar, sobbing to Sheila. He had spent the New Year’s countdown asleep in the very same booth in which he sat at that moment. Sheila had locked up around him, taking pity on the down and out boxer. She felt some affinity toward the man, possibly because she understood the torment of losing someone whom she loved so well. When Sheila’s ex had left the previous year, she had fallen into a pit of despair, one which she was sure she would never recover from. She had thrown herself into the troubles of her patrons and slowly regained her sanity through the insanity of others. Mikai was just another lost soul who had found his way into her life.

  Mikai had woken discombobulated at four a.m. on New Year’s Day. When he couldn’t figure out where he was, other than being inside a bar, he continued to drink to ward off the impending hangover. He fell back asleep until noon when Sheila unlocked the doors. That morning, he wandered the freshly snowfilled streets of New York, wanting desperately to go home, sleep, shower and feel human again but he knew that he would see Caitlyn in every corner of the apartment. He wanted to run to Joe and tell him what had happened but he knew his trainer would be incensed at his state of debauchery. Mikai had not felt so alone since his childhood and he found himself longing for his mom who had died four years prior. At seven o’clock that evening, he was back at The Hole. On the third of January, Sheila insisted that he go home, shower and change. Grudgingly, Mikai obeyed. There was a note on his door from Joe, begging him to call. I’ll call him tomorrow. One more day of self-pity and then I’ll get back to training. But when he got back to The Hole, Sheila had a present for him.

  “This will help ya with yer hangover. I’m guessin’ yer gonna be drinkin’ for a few more days. Always best to have some of this around when ya do that,” the woman told him, slipping a baggie of fine white powder into his hands. Mikai realized it was cocaine and handed it back.

  “Thanks,” he told her. “But I can’t afford this shit right now. Anyway, I’m done after today. I’ll be okay.”

  “Jus’ keep it as a present. If yer ex is gettin’ married, yer gonna be drinkin’. I don’t give a shit what ya say.”

  Reluctantly, Mikai slipped the package in his pocket and nodded gratefully at Sheila. She winked and gave him an almost toothless smile.

  Now, Mikai glanced over at Sheila and cleared his throat suggestively. Usually she would offer him a treat but that evening she had not brought it up and he was itching for some coke.

  “Hey…you got any more…?” he muttered quietly. She nodded

  8

  Chapter Eight

  January turned to February and Mikai spiralled further and further out of control. He had all but forsaken his apartment, moving upstairs from The Hole with Sheila where his days were spent infused with gin and cocaine. It had started well enough, Sheila doting on her much younger score, lavishing him with drugs and plying him with liquor in exchange for steamy nights of passion. Mikai had learned to picture Sheila as Caitlyn, imagining the older woman’s wrinkles as Caitlyn’s soft, supple curves. He closed his eyes in the midst of their nightly acts of sex but he envisioned it was Caitlyn beneath him, moaning with ecstasy. But when his eyelids opened, Mikai was staring at the same fat faced, middle aged woman who had become his sugar momma and it led him directly back to the scarred wooden coffee table where he would put another line up his nose and bottle to his lips. He had become a paranoid, gaunt shadow of his formerly formidable self. He could not bear to look at himself in the mirror any longer.

  At the beginning, Sheila had seemed perfectly content with Mikai’s company but soon the situation soured and Sheila was becoming annoyed with the freeloading, albeit handsome boxer pacing her bachelor apartment.

  “Dontcha think ya should stop with all this mopin’ and go do somethin’ now, Mickey? It’s been a month. She ain’t comin’ back. Ya need ta accept that already and move on.”

  “You need to shut your mouth,” Mikai had roared back. It seemed blasphemous, Sheila even making mention of Caitlyn. Taken aback, Sheila had narrowed her dark eyes and pursed her lips.

  “You need ta remember who yer talkin’ to,” she snarled back. “If it ain’t been fer me, ya’d be dead in a gutter somewhere.”

  “If it ‘ain’t been fer you’ I’d be training and fighting my title fight right now!”

  The bottle came flying at his head before he had time to react and it hit him squarely in his chest, shattering onto the floor. In his hazy state, Mikai could only stare open mouthed at Sheila whose face had contorted into a mask of rage.

  “Get out of ma house, ya ungrateful ass!” she yelled, grabbing another bottle but Mikai had overcome his initial shock and was at the door to the shabby second floor apartment. Before he crossed the threshold, he had a fleeting sense of deja vu. A memory of his father slinking out of his childhood home, bloodied and broken, jumped into his mind and Mikai suddenly was blindingly clear on just how far he had sunk. Tearing down the stairwell and out the door, he vowed to himself that he would go home, call Joe and get his life back on track. Sheila is not wrong, he thought mournfully. Caitlyn is gone. I need to focus on the title. It’s all I have left now. In a fog, he made his way back to his apartment mere blocks away. As he slowly climbed the stairs, he tried to think of what he would say to Joe. He knew his mentor would smell any deceit he tried to feed him. The man simply knew him too well. Wracking his brains, he pulled open the door to the third floor walk-up and to his amazement, he saw his trainer sitting outside his apartment door, a sleeping bag and pillow under his tiny frame. Joe was on his tablet and did not immediately see Mikai and for a panicky second, Mikai considered turning back and running down the stairs. Oh God. He’s going to kill me if he sees me high and smashed! But it was too late. Joe looked up at the sound of the door opening and instantly his face flew through a series of expressions ranging from relief to anger.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Joe snarled, jumping to his feet, tossing the tablet onto the sleeping bag.

  “Hey man…” Mikai mumbled evasively, trying to brush past the trainer but Joe grabbed his arm.

  “Don’t ‘hey man’ me. You’re fucking drunk! I have been sleeping out here for almost a week, waiting for you to come home. Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been about you?”

  Mikai wriggled out of his tight grip and fumbled to unlock the apartment door. The coke was making his hands unsteady.

  “Mickey, did you hear what I said?” Joe thundered, snatching the keys from his shaking hands and opening the portal, shoving the younger man inside with force.

  “What the hell?” Mikai sputtered but Joe slammed the door shut and glowered.

  “I don’t know what the fuck you have been up to or why you would do this to yourself when you are so close to getting everything you’ve worked toward. How can you throw it all away?” Joe’s anguish and confusion was genuine. He had been beside himself for weeks. It was completely out of character for Mikai to lose contact. Mikai had been on benders before but never like this and never for so long. He should have been training since the start of the New Year, the title fight only three weeks away. Seeing him in the state he was, the sense of alarm coursing through Joe’s body was almost volcanic lava.

  “Mikai! Say something for God’s sake! Where the hell have you been?”

  “You’re not my goddamn father, Joe!” Mikai barked back. “I don’t answer to you!”

  The older man’s eyes became dangerously closed slits and even in his inebriated state, Mikai recognized the mistake he had made.


  “Oh no,” Joe hissed. “I am not your prince of a father, kiddo. I am only the person who made sure that you and your mother didn’t live on the streets. I am only the person who fixed your eyes and teeth. I am only the person who kept you fed. I am only the person who trained you to become a champ at my own fucking expense. How dare you talk to me like that?”

  “Joe – “

  “I am not finished. You shut your goddamn mouth and listen to me. For months, I could see something was up with you. You were acting strangely but you still stayed focused. I thought maybe I was seeing something that wasn’t there. I thought ‘nah, Mickey knows what’s important here. He’s not gonna screw up.’ I thought maybe you were overworked but I can see now that you were just itching to get yourself into your old habits. I may not be your father but I think I’ve done enough for you to earn a goddamn explanation!”

  Mikai stared at his long time confidant, unspeaking, taking in the fury in Joe’s inky, intense eyes. Suddenly, a torrent of emotions swept through him and Mikai dropped to his knees, sobbing like a child. Shocked, Joe immediately went to embrace the younger man. Mikai clung to him, weeping.

  “What happened? What is it?” he asked gently, his eyes losing the fire as he recognized Mikai’s pain. After a few minutes of deep, shuttering breaths, Mikai was finally able to relay the story of Caitlyn to his trainer. Joe sat by listening, allowing Mikai to unleash the flood of despair he was feeling over the loss of the woman to whom he had given his soul. When he had finished, Joe put on a pot of coffee and walked into the bathroom, silently.