A Life Worth Fighting

by Brenda Kennedy

  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.

  Gus inserts my mouthpiece and I nod at his instructions.

  I hear the announcer say, “This is Bobby ‘The Rock’ Grether’s first fight in two years. He is fighting to prove that he still belongs in boxing. If he wins, he will show everyone that he still can fight.”

  Round one goes by with lots of punches being thrown by both of us. I draw blood first and I pat myself on the back.

  Later, it’s round four and I was hoping this would have been over with by now. I reprimand myself for not training more this week and for eating too many cinnamon buns. If I win this fight, I’m swearing off Jo’s famous cinnamon buns until my retirement from boxing. Training for boxing is important, but so is experience, and I haven’t fought for two years. My opponent looks even more tired than I do. I feel the warmth on my cheek and the salty taste of blood in my mouth. Blood. Great. The bell rings and we each go to our corners for our one-minute break. Gus stops the bleeding, Dad gives me water to rinse the blood from my mouth and Tim is on the phone. Who is Tim talking to on the phone? I watch him, half pissed off. Who in God’s name is he talking to? He hangs up and the bell rings again.

  At the end of round five, I have to admit that I am in pretty bad shape. My right eye is swollen shut and I am exhausted. The three minutes in the ring felt like three days. I take my seat and like before Gus tends to my injuries, Dad gives me water to rinse the blood out of my mouth and I think I see Tim holding my iPod. He inserts my earbuds in my ear and “The Eye of the Tiger” blasts through the buds. I suddenly feel like Rocky Balboa. My exhaustion is replaced with a newfound energy and a desire to win. My mouthpiece is re-inserted, the bell rings, and the earbuds are the last things they remove.

  It’s round six and I’m done playing. I hit him and he stumbles. It’s not good enough, so I hit him again and again and again. The song plays in my mind and I have never been so grateful to Tim in my whole life. I hit my opponent once more with all the energy I have and watch as he falls to the ground in what seems to be slow motion. He falls into the ropes and tries to grab onto them before he falls to the mat. He moves, and blinks, but he isn’t able to get up. On the count of 10, I raise my own arm. The crowd stands and holds up signs. Some are with my name and some have my name and picture. I nod into the audience before Gus, Dad, and Tim join me in the ring.

  I hear the announcer say, “This was Bobby ‘The Rock’ Grether’s first fight in two years. He won convincingly against a worthy opponent, and he has proven that he is ready to move up to the next level.”

  Leah

  I watch as Robert is announced the winner and he looks into the camera and says, “Leah, this is for you. I love you, Sweets.”

  I am crying and my lips tremble. He looks terrible. His right eye is completely swollen shut and he has cuts on his face. Mom hugs me to try to console me. As soon as he is escorted out of the ring, I call him; no answer. I keep calling until someone answers. I know he is being checked out by his team and the doctors, but I need to talk to him. He finally answers a little too cheerfully, “Hey, Sweets.”

  “Ace, what in the hell was that?” I don’t try to sugarcoat my anger.

  “That was a fight.”

  “Why were you in there playing? No, never mind. Get better, get home and if you fight like that again, you’ll be cleaning gutters and toilets every day at the shop. Do you hear me, Ace?” I think I hear him chuckling in the phone.

  “All right, Sweets.”

  “Don’t scare me like that again.” I try to control my tone. I want to cry, but I don’t want him to hear me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Robert, are you all right?”

  “I am; the doctor’s here now.”

  “Good, I love you. Call me when you get settled in your room for the night.”

  “I will. I love you, too.”

  I hang up and the tears fall. “Are you all right, Leah?” Robert’s mom asks.

  “I am. I’m mad and scared and angry and relieved…”

  My mother interrupts, “I know, Honey. All those emotions are normal. That was some fight.”

  “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this. I don’t think I can stand back and keep watching him fight.”

  “Oh, Leah. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You are
one of the strongest women I know.”

  “I don’t know about that, but thank you.”

  My phone rings — it’s Robert. I let his mom talk first. When she’s done she hands me the phone. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us.”

  “Thank you. I love you, both.”

  I talk to Robert and he tells me that he has no fractures and no permanent injuries. He does inform me his eye is badly swollen and he has six stitches above his right eye. I know he is trying to prepare me for his return home. My anger has passed and now all I feel is relief. My Robert is going to be fine. I vow that if Robert continues to fight, then he’s going to start training as a warrior. He worries about me and therefore he sometimes does not concentrate on his own training.

  Robert

  After the fight, we decide to dine at a steakhouse. “Table for three,” my father says as the hostess greets him.

  “Follow me.” She smiles and leads us to a round table in the center of the room. The table is covered with a white linen cloth. A red rose and white salt and pepper shakers sit in the center of the table. A small candle is burning. Gus leans forward and blows out the candle. Dad and I laugh.

  “A little too romantic?” I ask.

  “For a table with three guys, just a little bit,” Gus says. The room is large and elegant. Red carpet, white linen tables, and red velvet cloth-covered chairs. The walls are adorned with large framed photographs of the city. Leah would like it here. I browse the menu and decide to stick with my no-bad-carb meal — veggie carbs are good carbs, and starch carbs are bad carbs. An 8oz. filet, a double order of snow peas, and a double salad with oil and vinegar dressing. Dad and Gus order double-stuffed baked potatoes as I knew they would. There is a saying, ‘Practice what you preach,’ yet they never do. They preach to me to eat healthy foods and stay away from bread and potatoes, but look at them.

  During the dinner, a few people come over to ask me for my autograph. They tell me they were at the fight and thought it would have lasted longer. Six rounds was plenty long enough for me. One guy jokes about what took me so long for a knockout. He also tells me from now on, he’ll be placing his bets on me.

  After they leave, I say, “I wish people would wait to ask for autographs until I have eaten.”

  “You have it easy,” Gus says. “Bestselling author Stephen King was sitting on a toilet at a restaurant once when someone appeared with a notepad and a pen and asked for his autograph. Stephen gave it to him.”

  “That’s when I would have to get rude. Once when Leah and I were dating, a man came up and asked me to autograph a dollar bill. He told me how his wife will always treasure it. After dinner, when I paid the bill, can you imagine my surprise when I got the same dollar bill in my change? I laughed and didn’t expect Leah to ever go out with me again.

  “Leah also saw a server wearing an origami ring made out of a dollar bill, and she asked, ‘Are these for sale?’ The server said, ‘No, these are priceless. We have a customer named George, who comes in every Saturday night with his family and makes them exclusively for his waitress. We fight over the table so we can get one of those rings — and the big tip that comes with it.’”

  After dinner, we do a little site-seeing and I buy Leah a souvenir of Chicago. She loves postcards and key chains, so I buy her both. She is a very simple girl. Before we get home, Leah sends me a text.

  Leah: Good night, Ace.

  Robert: Good night, Sweets. I love you.

  Leah: I love you, too. I am so proud of you.

  Robert: Thank you. Sweet dreams, and I’ll be home around noon.

  Leah: Sweet dreams. I miss you and I’ll see you tomorrow.

  I stare on my phone at a picture of Leah kissing Jamie before I place it back in the phone holder attached to my belt. We pull up outside the hotel nearest to the fighting arena and we all say our goodbyes for the night. Still feeling restless after the fight, I decide to take a walk to unwind. The streets are dark with very few street lights. I turn the corner and see a girl stumbling away from a car parked in an alley. The car doesn’t drive off but stays there with the headlights on. I duck into the shadows and watch as the girl stumbles towards me, crying. I reach out and pull her close to me into the shadows. She is holding her right arm, she is bleeding, and she is frightened.

  “I won’t hurt you.” Her body shakes, but she doesn’t say anything. “Where are you hurt?” I look at her and she is bleeding profusely from the upper arm. Her arm has a severe laceration about six inches long. She is dressed in a floral sundress and sandals. I tear off the bottom of my tee shirt and make a pressure dressing for her arm. When it is tied off, I sit her down next to a tree. I hear two car doors open and close, I say, “I’m going to see what they want. Stay here and be silent; I’ll get you help.”

  She reaches for my arm and whispers, “They have a knife.”

  I call 911 and ask for assistance and an ambulance, then I say to the girl, “Stay right here until I get back.” I stand and walk in the shadows, further away from the girl towards the direction of the car. The headlights are no longer on. I see the bastards walking in the alley as I pass them in the darkness. Chances are, they are waiting for me to leave. I learned in boxing to “float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.” I’m grateful that I’m light on my feet or they may hear me.

  I have learned to fear no evil even while walking in the alley of death because I have worked hard to be the toughest man in the alley. Besides, at times you just know that God is on your side. I walk out of the shadows and into the dimly lit alley.

  “You looking for someone?” I ask.

  The two guys turn around and one answers, “My wife. Have you seen her?”

  “Nah, I’ve been here all night. I haven’t seen your wife.”

  They begin to walk closer to me and says, “You’ve been here all night and you didn’t see anyone?”

  “I saw someone, but I’m sure she isn’t your wife. And if she is your wife, I’m sure that she shouldn’t be.” I begin to slowly walk towards them.

  “Where is she?” one of them asks.

  “She is with the police,” I lie. I watch as they look around. I square my shoulders and crack my neck side to side.

  “With the police, huh?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.” Another step closer, we’ll be standing nose to nose. They are dressed in leather coats, jeans, and cowboy boots. “She was injured pretty badly. You don’t know who did that to her, do you?”

  “No idea,” one of them says as the other one takes a swing at me. I hit him right in his nose and then I hit the other one in his left eye. He holds his nose and falls to the ground and the other guy comes at me again with a knife. I hit him as hard as I can and watch as he falls to the ground. The knife falls from his hands and I kick it away from him. I keep my eye on it so I know where to retrieve it later. I wait and neither of them stand up or move. When I’m sure neither of them is getting up, I get the knife and walk back and get the girl.

  I reach my hand out for hers and say, “Come on, Princess. Help is on its way.”

  She takes my hand and stands up. We wait for help to arrive at a distance from the two losers lying on the ground unconscious. I don’t ask her any questions and she doesn’t say anything. When I hear sirens, I reach into my wallet and hand her some money. “Get yourself a room later tonight. You don’t have to take that shit anymore.”

  “I… I can’t take your money,” she stammers.

  I smile and close her hand with the money in it. “Princess, you don’t have a choice.”

  “Thank you.”

  I do what is needed when it is needed. Some religious people say that we need to fill our hearts with loving kindness. I did that twice tonight. Once was when I gave the girl the money. The other time was when I filled my heart with loving kindness for all battered women just before I hit the two men who attacked the girl and then me.

  The police come and immediately send the girl away in the ambulance before they inter
view me. I tell them what I saw and that the guys came at me fighting, one of them with a knife. I give them my name and information and watch them handcuff and place both guys in the back of the cruiser. Once the police tell me I can leave, I walk back to the hotel.

  I lie in bed and my mind drifts back to when I was a small child. Dad was gone on a business trip and our neighbor, Mrs. Michaels, came over crying. She was bleeding and had red marks all over had happened to Mrs. Michaels. I cracked my bedroom door open and listened. The police came and she told them Mr. Michaels had hurt her. I was so mad, and I decided the next time I saw him, I was going to tell him off. I never did see him again. It was that day that I decided I would always treat women with kindness and respect.

  I have breakfast in the restaurant of the hotel with Dad and Gus before we catch our flight home. Missing Leah, I decide to call her and make sure she is safe before turning my phone on airplane mode. I am anxious to get home and be with my wife; although I was gone for only one night, I have missed her. I tell her that I will be home soon.

  Leah

  When I hear the car, I walk over to the kitchen door and wait to open it until the guys get out of the car. I am bracing myself for the worse when I see Robert. I know he was hit pretty hard last night. Robert stands from the car, wearing a crisp white tee-shirt, a pair of holey jeans, and his signature boots. His eye is still swollen but not as bad as I had prepared myself for it to be. I breathe out a sigh of relief. I open the door and walk out to greet him. He turns to me with a beautiful white smile.

  Robert surges ahead, leaving his dad and Gus behind. He holds his arms out for me and I run to him. He kisses me like he hasn’t seen me in years. We stop when we hear laughter behind us. Our mothers are both laughing at our affectionate greeting.

  Robert slowly lowers me to the ground as his dad and Gus approach us.

  “I missed you,” Robert says.

  “Me, too. How long were you gone?” I ask, laughing.

  “Just a day but it feels like weeks,” he says.

  I hear someone clear their throat and I peer around Robert. “I also missed my favorite father-in-law and Gus, too.”