by Lily Zante
“I’m about to hit the sack,” he says. His tone and his words spear my heart into two. I wait for the punchline, or the comforting words, or for him to say he’s joking, and that he missed me and wants to talk to me, but he doesn’t say anything.
I am still filled with longing and yearning for this man, and I can sense that our relationship has changed yet again during my ride home. The dynamics are different now than they were before I went to the training camp, and despite what happened there, they are different still.
The speed of the change gives me whiplash. I should not be surprised, I tell myself, because I know that Eli does this. He changes in an instant.
I give a short laugh. “You’re going to bed?” And you don’t want to talk to me?
“Yeah.”
I'm starting to wonder if he's regretting what he did.
“I might have to block you,” he says, offering his own little laugh. “I need to focus on my training. You don't know what this means to me.”
I feel the ground beneath me shift. “I do know what it means to you, but go ahead and block me if it makes you feel better.” Has he forgotten the conversation we had last night? I toughen up. “You make it sound as if I'm a groupie who's stalking you.”
I wonder if boxers have groupies, or if it’s only pop stars who do. I'm nothing of the sort. I've been quite controlled, if anything. We both lost it in the sauna room. It definitely wasn’t a one-sided encounter. “It takes two to tango,” I reply, because I'm annoyed, and because he’s not forthcoming.
“I know.”
“I didn't come looking for you.”
“I know.”
“And I only went to the sauna because I thought you guys were out.” I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near it had I known he was in the building.
“I know.”
“Is that all you're going to say?” The conversation has flipped 180 degrees. I was getting ready for some hot phone sex and he's getting ready to block my calls. There is a huge disconnect between where he and I are.
“I'm tired. Lou had me up at four, and I need to hit the sack.”
“Goodnight,” I shoot back in anger.
“'Nite.”
I'm left with the phone in my hand, trying to figure out what the hell just happened here.
I have no idea what I did wrong, and I lie on my bed, going over the conversation for the longest time.
The next day I make my way to the boxing gym even though I know Eli’s not there. Despite last night’s short conversation, I look forward to seeing it again, even though I’m only going to pick up a few of my notes and my coffee cup that I’d left there. I’ve decided to end my time at the gym. I had planned to stay until Eli returned, and maybe spend one or two more days while he was at the gym, but I can’t wait to leave. I’ll call and tell Lou later.
Ernesto is surprised to see me. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning,” he exclaims, looking happy.
“I forgot a few things behind,” I tell him, and hand him the coffee I brought for him from the diner.
“For me?” he asks, his mouth spreading into the widest smile. “Aww, you didn’t have to, Harper.” And then he thanks me profusely.
Of all the people I wanted to see this morning, Ernesto is at the top of my list. He’s easy to be around.
I bought a cup of coffee for myself as well, and take a sip. Nina wasn’t at the diner this morning. I don’t know why I went there because I don’t usually get my coffee from places like that. I much prefer the frothy, overpriced non-skimmed stuff from Starbucks, but this morning I found myself veering towards Frankie’s Kitchen.
“When did you get back from the camp?”
“Last night.”
“Liked it?” he asks.
After thinking about it for a moment, I nod. “It was an interesting experience.” Though he obviously has no idea in what capacity I mean that. “The house is an odd building, don't you think?”
“I don't know. I've never been.”
This takes me by surprise. “Haven't you?”
“I'm just the handyman here. This place still has to run as usual even when our prize boxer isn't here.”
My expression must have dampened because he says, “What did he go and do now?”
“Nothing.” I smile brightly, and then tell him about the training camp because all of that, most of that, was fine.
It was more than fine. Things only fell apart last night on my return.
“Are you going to the fight?” Ernesto wants to know.
“I don’t know.” I haven't had time to think about it even though Gerry asked me about it a while back.
The question isn’t whether I would like to go, it’s whether Eli would want me there and it doesn’t seem like he would.
I don't need to go. I can watch the fight from home and do the write-up there, plus Gerry said he'd edit my article and help with the fighting part of it since I wouldn't know about the boxing rules and regulations. I'm not writing about the boxing techniques, I'm writing about the human angle, about the man behind the gloves. But I'm not confident that I’ll be able to write an unbiased account.
We drink our coffee and I ask Ernesto what I've missed since I've been away, and I also let him know that I’m leaving today and returning to the office.
Merv wants me back there for good now, and I decided last night that now was a good time to do it. I also need to write up everything I have and if I wait for Eli to come back, the ocean of emotions he will put me through won’t help me to focus.
“You're leaving us?” Ernesto looks disappointed. “We were only just getting to know you.”
“I'm not leaving the country,” I tell him. “I still live in Chicago.”
“You'll have to come over from time to time,” he says. “And when Eli brings the belt back, you'll have more of a reason to come back.”
I’m not so sure about that anymore.
“Why are you really going, Harper?” he asks. “Because I recall you saying to me that you’d be back for a few days after the camp.”
“My boss wants me back,” I reply. I even manage a smile as I say it. I even manage to stare at Ernesto defiantly.
“Is that so?”
I swallow. I bet he never misses anything regarding his granddaughters. I also bet he’s the perfect grandfather. “That’s true,” I insist, because it is, to an extent. Merv does want me back, but even if he didn’t, I would return.
Though I wouldn’t be able to explain my way out of it to Ernesto.
“Elias is a troubled young man,” he says softly. “This gym, and Lou, have done wonders for him.”
I nod. I can’t imagine Eli telling him his secret, but it doesn’t take a genius to see that Eli wrestles with his demons. People don’t need to know which demons they are. “I can see that.”
“Whether you think so or not, I think you’ve had a slight effect on him too.”
I roll my eyes, because there is no way Ernesto can know what happened at the camp.
Then he freaks me out with his next words. “I’m talking about here, what I’ve seen here, with my own eyes. There’s something softer about him. You might need to dig deeper to find it, but he’s a little changed, and for the better, I would say.”
I’m trying to figure out why he’s telling me this, and why it matters, because clearly, he seems to think it does. I’m over Eli, or I intend to be. I intend to wash him out of my system from now on, but I take note of Ernesto’s words.
“I’ll take your word for it,” I say, taking another sip of my coffee. Because I’ve come back and I’m none the wiser about Eli at all.
Chapter Thirty
ELI
* * *
I train harder than ever once Harper’s gone.
The night she left, we all sat down and watched clips of Garrison talking to the press. He boasted about how easy this fight was going to be.
He’s a celebrity as much as he is a boxer, and that’s his weakness. But
watching him big himself up and play to the camera tells me this could go the other way. To him, I’m a relative unknown, a nobody, and he wants to make a scapegoat out of me. He’s going to use me to show everyone that he’s still got it.
If I go down easily, and if he manages to hit me where it hurts, it could happen. No matter how much we prepare for it, on the night, lady luck plays a part. Just as it did for me getting the chance to fight him, he could knock me out in the first two rounds like he thinks he’s going to. Or I could knock him out in the first ten, the way I’m hoping this will play out.
But if I’m out, I won’t get another shot again. He will, and he’ll get another shot even if I win because that’s how these things go.
I had all this going through my head, and I only called Harper that first night after she’d gone because I saw her texts. Maybe I also called because I needed to hear her voice.
But the moment she spoke, it put me back in the sauna room again. I thought I could keep my distance mentally and still have her around but I can’t.
Her voice brings back everything.
And that’s the problem.
I can't have her in my head.
So I kept my distance when we spoke and I could sense the quiet shock in her voice, but I can't have her calling me during the day, and definitely not during the night. I know how my sleep got messed up those couple of nights we were together and I can’t risk that. I need to be at my sharpest.
And that's why I told her I was going to block her.
I didn't, but she never called or texted me again after that.
Doesn't mean I don't think about her in my weaker moments.
After five grueling days of working till I drop, Lou weighs me, and nods his head.
“You're ready. And you're bigger, bulkier, and the right weight. You're in the best shape I've ever seen you, kid.”
“Maybe.” I don’t want to big myself up, not even in my own head, the way Garrison does twenty-four seven.
Jake and Santos laugh.
“You're ready, man.”
“You've never looked so good.”
They're building me up again, my wingmen. Garrison's going to have a whole entourage on the big night. All the media and the press will be on his side. He's got the razzmatazz that the audience loves.
Me? I don't even have a nickname. The press keep calling me Chicago’s New Hope, but I don’t want to walk into the ring against “The Tank” with that name. It sounds lame in comparison.
Garrison will be blasting out a rock tune, and he’ll have an army of people following him in the ring at Madison Square Garden.
I have no name, no tune, and only Jake, Santos and Lou. Even Nina's not going to come to watch. She says she can't bear it. She won't even watch the fight on the TV.
“Nobody knows you yet, Eli, but they will.” Lou gives me a stern look, as if he’s about to jab me in the chest to drive his point home, but stops because he gets how much I want this.
He believes in me, just like these guys do, and Nina does. And Harper does.
“Garrison has been the reigning champ for so long, he’s had his moment. Now you need to take over and claim your moment.”
The weight of those words sinks through me, and I nod in understanding. “I will claim my moment.”
He points a finger at me. “You're the outsider, but this is going to be Rocky all over again.”
“He lost in the first movie,” I remind him.
“Then Rocky II.” He makes a face as if this is irrelevant. “You being here might be pure chance, but you winning that fight will be due to pure strength, pure skill, and agility. Don’t forget that.”
I know all about sheer chances. Just like an accident of birth gave me a bad start, it’s only by chance that I’m in the fight. I can’t mess it up. I won’t.
I’ve already decided that this won’t go to a rematch. I have to make my one shot count. That’s the one people remember the most.
I train real hard for my remaining days and then we return to Chicago. The day after, I’m at the gym first thing in the morning.
It’s been days since I’ve spoken to Harper. I managed to block her out of my mind, and it was easier to do while she was out of sight, but now that I’m back here, I expect to see her. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.
But after an hour in the gym, I still don’t see her. I spend all morning wondering where she is. Because even though I said all that stuff to her on the phone, I expect to see her at her desk. I want to see her. And when I don’t, it makes me suspicious.
It's not until the afternoon that Ernesto casually mentions that Harper won't be returning.
“Didn't she tell you?” he asks.
“No.”
She never said a thing to me, but then, I didn’t really give her the chance.
“Did you know?” I ask Lou later.
“She left me a message,” he says, preoccupied with some paperwork.
I suppress my reaction.
But, fuck.
I didn't know that.
I manage to get through the rest of the day by doing what I do best: blocking out the shit and focusing on how to move on.
It's late when I finish for the day. I pass by the diner, but Nina isn't around.
I go back to my apartment and try to relax. The problem is, I'm so wound up, I can't.
It's not only the fight, it's everything; my days at the training camp have been brutal, and this first day back at the gym hasn’t been easy either.
Lou says he's going to ease up now because my body needs to recover fully in order to reach peak condition. We leave for New York next week.
Seeing Harper might have taken the edge off things. It's the not seeing her, knowing that I won't be seeing her, that's gotten me wound up like a tight, tight coil.
Chapter Thirty-One
HARPER
* * *
Eli will be back today. Ernesto told me they were all returning late on Tuesday night, so I assume, in fact, I know he'll be at the gym today.
I try not to think about him, but my mind is all over the place. I keep thinking of the moments we spent, precious moments that meant something, and I’m disappointed in him, in the way he’s resorted back to his usual self.
I don't even know if I've been ghosted, because that’s what a douchebag does when you’ve been in a relationship and all of a sudden they cut off all contact. What we had might not have been a relationship, but we had something.
Gerry has looked over my article and he wants me to spruce it up some more. I spent most of today doing just that, then, as I’m about to go home, he suggests that we go for a drink at the end of the week, seeing that I'm back in the office now.
“Why don't we go out tonight?” I reply. It’s midweek, not ideal, but I’m not feeling so great and I suggest this so that I don't have to think about Eli being back in Chicago.
If I go home, it will just be me and my thoughts and I don’t want to be languishing at home by myself. I need something to keep me busy, otherwise I might be tempted to pick up the phone and call Eli. And if I do that, it’s a sure guarantee that I’ll do something stupid.
“Drinks?” Gerry asks, surprised.
“Why not? Do something daring for once,” I suggest.
He looks around the office. “Who else shall we ask?”
“No one else,” I say, picking up my bag. I glance at the desks in the open-plan office, at the other people I barely know. “Unless you want to ask them,” I say. “I don't know anyone that well.”
Gerry makes a dismissive noise. “Forget the others,” he says. “I can’t stay late, so let’s go now.”
And that is how we end up at a bar a few blocks away from the office.
“You've lost your sparkle,” he says, when we're both sitting across the table from one another.
He has a beer, and I have a vodka cocktail. It's extravagant, given that there's nothing special about today, and nothing worth celebrating, but I need a
pick-me-up. “Me?”
“Yes, you. Are you missing the training camp?” he asks, hitting the nail on the head.
I shake my head. “It wasn't a vacation.”
“Maybe not, but it got you out of the office. Did you go out, or were you stuck inside all the time?”
“Mostly inside. There are enough things in the house for entertainment, but we went out one evening. It’s a pretty little town. It made a nice change from the city, so it was good to get out and see something different.”
“A nice change from the city,” he says with a sigh. “I should have moved away years ago. The city strangles me.”
I frown. “Strangles you? That's a strong word. If you hate it that much, why don't you move?”
“The divorce was costly.”
“Oh. I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. She was a bitch, my wife. My ex-wife,” he says, as if he’s getting used to the new label.
I'm stumped because he sounds so bitter, and because he’s never talked about her like that. He's only had one drink but he's never been more candid. He seems wound up, irritated almost. Except I've seen close-up Eli-style irritation, and I know this is mild compared to that. Because I remain silent, Gerry starts to talk. “She reconnected with an old boyfriend online.” He closes his eyes as if it pains him.
“I’m sorry.” Something like that would cut like a knife wound. I have nothing on him, on years of being married, but I can imagine his pain.
“Don’t be. She’s moved on and so must I. What about you?” he asks.
I don't like talking about my personal life, not to work people. Especially since I haven't been here long and don't know them well enough. “Nothing at the moment.”
“That's surprising,” he replies.
I don't want him to ask me any more questions, or make some cheesy comment on why a young woman like me is single. I pray he won’t.
“Spill the secrets then. What else did you get on Cardoza? What drives the man?”
I’m grateful that we’ve moved onto something else, but talking about Eli is hard. I put on my professional hat, try to phase out the personal stuff.