Boxer Beast

by Marci Fawn

  Tabloids are what got us in this mess, but I’m grateful for them because the only reason I’m let backstage is because the bouncers recognize me. The line is a mess and people are horrible, and I’m starting to regret coming back here.

  I can’t back out now.

  The man nods me in and I go searching through the back. There’s chairs, people standing about, and papers, and there’s some punching bags and gloves and training equipment that I can only assume are for River. A woman in heels glares at me and is beckoning to others to throw me out when Coach Daniels gestures to me with a sweeping hand motion.

  The people walking towards me stop immediately, and Coach points at me before clutching his finger into a hook to get me to come over. So I go.

  “Hey, do you k—“

  “I know you’re looking for River,” he says. “He’s back over there.”

  He nods to an open door that’s cut off only by a curtain, and I finally hear the sounds of people stampeding and calling for fights while men hit each other in a ring. I look through it briefly, trying to see if I can make out River from this angle, but from where I’m standing, I can’t see anything.

  “It doesn’t help that you’re short,” Coach Daniels says. “Wait back here and as soon as the match is over, I’ll send you right out.”

  It’s only a matter of minutes. Coach nods me over saying that it’s time for me to go out, and he pulls the curtain back for me. I open it the rest of the way, peeling myself through the heavy black curtain and into the ring.

  It smells worse on this side, but that’s to be expected – this is where the actual fighting is going on. I see River now, standing in the ring victorious –

  With women surrounding him. He’s throwing his arms around them and presenting his cheek to them for kisses, then turning his face to the side so he gets their lips smack on the mouth. I can’t believe what I’m seeing but he’s here, it’s him, and he makes eye contact with me.

  One of his arms slips out from around one of the women, and it’s almost like he’s starting to stumble towards me.

  Is he drunk? How drunk is he? I turn away from him, running through the crowds because it’s easier than letting him just follow me backstage, and he’ll have to get through the ring of the swarms of people anyway…

  I think I pass by Jason again, but I’m not sure.

  The tears in my eyes make it hard to be sure about a lot of things.

  River

  I’m not sure if she’s real or if she’s just part of my imagination. I turn to kiss the blonde to the right of me pretending it’s a cheek kiss – and I’m in no mood for cheek kisses, and there’s only one girl I’d be thinking about anyway, and it’s not like I should be thinking about her right now at all…

  It’s definitely Faith. Her hair, her frame, the pained look in her eyes…

  I cringe, trying to pull myself away from the women I’m entangled with on stage, but it only makes it look like I’m wrapping my body around them even more.

  I’m definitely drunk. Fuck.

  I try to run to Faith, but my legs are wobbly beneath me and every movement I try to make cuts out and fucks up about halfway through its intent.

  I collapse, my legs curling up beneath me as I watch Faith run out the door. Dimly, I think I see a familiar face trail after her, but –

  I feel the burning pool in my stomach before it makes its way up to my throat. I gag, trying to calm myself, urging my body to calm down. I can’t vomit right now. I don’t care if other people see me; I just need to get to Faith.

  I can’t control it though, and my throat gives way to the hot chunks spraying out through my mouth, through my nose… I gurgle, unleashing an inhuman noise I couldn’t even recognize as coming from me if I didn’t know what this looks like. I have experience dealing with being a sick drunk, but not with dealing with them –

  Coach was onto something with just the water. I sense, more than see, the girls around me jumping away from me as I vomit, and I hear the ref call for Coach. He’s going to have to deal with me and my shit.

  Fuck…

  Faith!

  “Congratulations on passing out again after your first match back,” Thomas says. He’s clearly displeased, tucking his phone back into his pocket guiltily. I wonder if I was interrupting some booty call of his, and then I remember who exactly I’d seen him tangled up with: Sabrina.

  And Sabrina’s best friend, who I’d last seen…

  It all floods back to me.

  Last night.

  I try to lean up on my elbows, but I fall back again clutching my forehead after a pounding headache. I groan. I’ve been fucked up before, but it’s never been this bad. Now isn’t the time.

  “Mumbling about some girl isn’t going to get you out of this,” I hear him say.

  But it’s like he’s underwater. I recognize the sounds of the words he’s saying, but it takes me too long to get the meaning that I don’t reply. My throat is dry and feels ripped, like discarded paper. I open my eyes as best I can – a slit at most – and try to figure out where I am.

  There’s a couch beneath me, but it might be a bed… I don’t know. It’s reasonably comfortable and there’s many blankets. I sigh, but it turns into a lung-hocking cough.

  “God, I don’t know if you’re drunk or actually getting sick,” Thomas shakes his head. He stares at me, looking like he’s considering saying something but isn’t sure what to say.

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Romeo.” I could tell. “You’re at my place.”

  He must see the look I feel on my face, and the way the expression stretches the skin there hurts. I grimace but he keeps talking, assuring me that it wasn’t his idea and it was all Coach Daniels – who insisted on “taking care of things with the press after you slipped and puked yourself, and took my fucking job.”

  I stay still, not even nodding.

  Thomas scowls at me again, telling me I’d better not consider this a bonding experience. I do, in the back of my head, just to spite him, even though this isn’t one at all. I’m not sure if I want to beg for a glass of water or a cup of orange juice or if I want to just die.

  I do neither of the three.

  Instead, I sleep, drowning out the sound of Thomas’s talking as the world goes black around me.

  The morning comes and I feel so much better. Coach Daniels is back, and he convinces me to shower before I run off to Faith, and that’s exactly where everyone knows I’m going. Apparently, after the fiasco at the match, there were some stills of Faith and me and a history of what’s been going on between us. The rumors are confirmed, except now there’s photos of me with some groupies, so I’m a cheater now, too.

  Not that this is a new thing for the media to say, and not that it’s true. It’s never been and never will be. All that matters is I’m the bad boy again.

  Thomas comes to tell me that there’s texts and calls and meetings to arrange, and congratulates me on somehow falling so far that my fuckups became successes. I ignore him, instead moving past him to use his shower through his protests.

  I’m disgusting and can’t even find a towel, so after I shower I just grab one of the extras off the rack and wrap it around myself. Hopefully, no one’s used this to dry their hands, and hopefully Coach has some of my old clothes lying around for me to change into.

  One of the two comes true, at least.

  Coach brings out a bag he’d stuffed in my locker – fuck yeah for the relationship we have – and I pull it on. It’s gym shorts and a T-shirt. I don’t care what I wear as long as I get to Faith.

  I ignore the sounds of the two men behind me telling me to take it easy – and one bastard’s urging for me to focus on “more important things, like my career” – and run down the stairs into the street.

  My stomach tosses and tells me to slow down a little bit, but it’s not as bad as it was just a night ago and I’m at no risk of throwing up my insides. I heave, gasp, and try to make myself feel a bit better, but I
don’t slow down.

  I can’t slow down.

  I need to explain myself.

  I run up and down the street until I see the not-so familiar yellow of a taxicab I haven’t been in. It’s been ages since I’ve been in a taxi and I miss my motorcycle, how easy it would be to just jump on it right now and ignore the road rules, just drive over the sidewalk in my desperation to get to Faith.

  But I don’t have it right now – it’s back at home in the garage, where I left it, lock and key even as the owners of the house change. The garage is mine. That one in particular, at least, and the lease seals it. I regret doing that now, though, and flag down the taxi, shouting, almost screaming as the taxi almost passes me by.

  The taxi cab driver stops, rolling down the window to ask me where to go. His voice catches in his throat when he realizes whom he’s talking to, though: me. I don’t say anything to him, I just run to the other side of the taxi and throw open the passenger side door.

  Faith’s address falls out of my mouth like wind, and I’m surprised I even remember the numbers since she never told me it. I’d seen it, though, and briefly wonder if that makes me creepy.

  No.

  Just dedicated.

  “Get me there fast and there’s extra in it for you,” I say. The driver doesn’t say anything in return, just puts his foot on the pedal. I’m pretty sure we speed through a few red lights and break a few traffic laws as we move through the street, but it’s early enough not to matter –

  All that matters is I get to Faith. The driver pulls up right next to her apartment complex, as close as he can get with the cars parked everywhere.

  He doesn’t choose a parking place and just rolls up in front of the building, right over to the doors and over the big white line that says “no parking.”

  I smile at that briefly, but I’m already out the door. I turn back to the cab for a second and tap on the window. He rolls it down, and I grab a piece of paper from the inside – I saw some lying around on the dash – and ask for a pen.

  “Call this number,” I say, writing down the name and number of my financial advisor. “Tell them River sent you.”

  He nods and pull away as I run up the stairs, my heart pounding in my ribs up to my lungs and then through my throat. I’m worried that knocking on the door and talking to Faith will kill me, my heart toppling out of my mouth with my words the minute I start trying to explain myself to her.

  But when I knock on the door, it’s not Faith who answers. It’s Sabrina, and my heart drops back down to where it belongs. I sigh, but at the same time…

  “Great,” I mutter, trying to sound more bitter than I am. It doesn’t matter.

  Sabrina’s given me more time to compose myself by answering the door, and my girl is somewhere behind her anyway. I’m about to joke with my girl’s best friend, a girl I’m starting to consider one of my own close friends, when I realize there’s tears brimming in the corners of her eyes.

  “Whoa, hey.” I wasn’t expecting this and I don’t know how to deal with it, because I don’t think Sabrina wants the type of comfort I have to offer, and Faith’s the only girl I want in my arms. “Did you get in a fight with Faith?”

  She just shakes her head. “No.”

  I’m confused, more than anything.

  Something has to have happened. This isn’t right. This isn’t the usual playful arrogant Sabrina I’m used to. I move to get in the door but she puts both her arms out, holding them within the frame so I can’t get past her without moving her. I don’t; I don’t want to put hands on a girl, much less my girl’s best friend.

  “Sabrina,” I say, as casual and careful as I can. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  She just shakes her head again, tears blossoming over her eyes and streaming past her cheeks. She says nothing, and this time I move towards her, taking her arms and moving them so I can get past the door. She doesn’t fight me as I expect her to and I go to the foyer, searching for the sound of child’s laughter and my Faith alongside her.

  Nothing.

  They must both be sleeping still. It’s early.

  Sabrina grabs my arm again, trying to stop me. I free myself from her, demanding to see Faith – asking what’s going on, why she’s so tired and if I should wake her, does she need to sleep still? I need to talk to Faith.

  My Faith.

  Sabrina just shakes her head again. And again, she says: “No.”

  My questions go unanswered.

  “Fine,” I sigh, finally, deciding that Sabrina’s just choosing to be difficult. “Then what about Dawn? Is she sleeping?”

  “River,” Sabrina touches one of my arms. She can’t stop me but I decide to stop anyway. I turn and look at her as she answers me. “Dawn’s not here.”

  “Okay,” I say, refusing to think what she might be trying to say to me.

  “River,” Sabrina says again, slower this time. “She’s gone. They’re both gone.”

  And Sabrina drags me to the couch to sit before I can fall on the ground, and she tells me everything.

  Faith

  I usually don’t have my phone on, but it seems like everyone has to be connected to everyone somehow. I hear it beep and I ignore it, knowing it’s Sabrina but not wanting to check. It could be River. But it can’t be River. It’s not like he’d care enough to message me.

  He’s already over me anyway.

  My mind flashes back to seeing him in the ring with those girls around him, and I can’t believe I truly thought he would only ever love me.

  I’m such an idiot. But I can’t cry.

  We’re still in the car, driving. Far, far away. I told Sabrina what I was planning – to leave. To move. To get away from all this. She doesn’t even know where I’m going, and I struggle with everything in me not to tell her where I am. She’s my best friend, and I’ll miss her.

  But she’s the one who got River back to me, leaving him clues and everything so he would know where to find me in his desperation –

  I shake my head to try and get rid of the tears I feel rising there. I feel sick.

  I stop at a red light and look over in the backseat; Dawn’s asleep in her car seat, her head starting to lull to the sides as she rests. The ride is slow. I’m not a dangerous driver like River – I never have been.

  I look over at the signs on the street to try to figure out where I am now. I’ve never driven this far before. I don’t know what to expect from driving through a few states… I’ll be so tired.

  But my soul is already tired and I can feel the emotional exhaustion lining my bones, so it’s not like this will be much else added onto it. I sigh, waiting for the light to turn green.

  Drops of rain hit the window like pixies knocking against the glass, and I’m not sure if they’re angry or sad like I am. The sky opens and tears spill out, the clouds parting and coming together again to turn the sky dark. Darker than normal. Everything is darker than normal, though, and I just want to run away from it all.

  I am running away from it all.

  I move a hand to the glass in front of me, wiping away some of the fog growing on the windshield from my breath. I didn’t even realize that I was breathing so heavily, or leaning so close to the windshield trying to look out of it.

  There’s a playground across the street, and I see a small family there, gathering their stuff and running to get out of the rain. A mother, a father, and a daughter. A little older than Dawn.

  I tear my eyes away from them, back to the main road.

  And then the light turns green again, and I start my car.

  It’s only been a little over three years since I’ve last been in this town, but everything is so much older. I turn into the driveway of my old house, knowing that no one will ever expect to look for me here… No one will look here.

  But most importantly, River won’t look here – as much as I want him to. It’s best for me to be alone. I don’t talk about the past often, so it makes sense that people might assume I’ve moved on f
rom it.

  I haven’t moved on from the past at all. My entire life is consumed by it.

  The drive here took a few days, interrupted by stops and breaks and sleeping at rest stops. But for all the rest we’ve gotten – and by we, I mean Dawn. I could hardly sleep a wink for thinking the whole time – Dawn is still sleeping when we get here.

  I get out of the car, careful not to wake her. Then I open the trunk and take out our bags. We only started with one suitcase but some hurried packing at the apartment left us with…

  So many.

  I can’t even keep them in my arms.

  I set them down on the pavement of the drive beside my feet, hoping that the rain I set them in doesn’t ruin the bottoms too much. I try to find the driest space I can, but there’s no way I can fit all those bags in my hands at once and close the trunk door.

  I can’t even carry them at the same time without worrying about it. I slam the trunk closed, and beep my keys so that the car is locked again. Dawn stays asleep. She can stay in there for a second while I put the bags in, and then I’ll take her in so she can be adjusted.

  I walk inside and throw every bag on the floor, to the side of the walk-in entrance. I don’t look at anything else. There’s still furniture here, though, and I remember with a pang that my father paid off our debts before his death. This house is ours…

  I haven’t been here in forever. I don’t want to look at it. I run back out the door, desperate to escape the growing feeling of something I can’t run away from –

  I’m back in the driveway, unlocking the car and unbuckling Dawn from her car seat. I take her into my arms and pick her up, feeling her yawn and mumble something in sleepy annoyance as I bring her into the house.

  I can’t bring myself to cook that night. I’m sick with sadness. So I put the food stuffs I bought away and I go through the kitchen, looking for that old drawer Daddy and I used to stuff menus in after we forgot to give them back to the server after our orders. There’s a few takeout menus in there, too, ones we were supposed to take. I flip through the old, ragged papers, and finally find a Chinese takeout place I love.