Eye on the Prize

by Dmytro Holmes

  “Toward the end of the two minutes?” Mikai retorted sarcastically and Joe immediately sensed Mikai’s irritation. Smile fading slightly, he arched an eyebrow and clucked his tongue teasingly.

  “Make no mistake, Mickey. Sam Gillies won’t fall for the same trick twice. He’s demanding this rematch because he thinks he has you figured out. He wouldn’t be asking otherwise. He’s hoping you do the same thing as last time. He thinks he can beat you at your own game.”

  “I didn’t know Sam Gillies could think.” Mikai dropped his fists and ripped the tape off his hands. Joe watched him carefully.

  “Mickey…”

  “Don’t worry about me, Joey. I got this,” he told his trainer, trying to stifle his annoyance. He knew Joe was only looking out for his best interests but sometimes his fatherly advice was downright infuriating. Joe himself had been very close to becoming world champion twenty years earlier. Despite his tiny frame, his lightweight competitors feared the mere sound of Joe Barone’s name. He was ruthless in the ring, inspired by some channelled inner anger which no one on the outside ever saw as Joe was eternally mild mannered and cool headed. Then just as quickly as Joe had risen to fame, he dropped out of competitive boxing altogether without explanation. He had disappeared from the public eye and only resurfaced ten years later, opening a small gym in Manhattan which is where Mikai had initially met him.

  SkyTrain had been an instant success, filled with aspiring boxers eager to take on Joe’s tutelage but Joe had invested heavily in Mikai, a nerdy, short sighted coward with no experience. To that day, Mikai had no idea what had inspired Joe or what had made him give up boxing himself. Mikai was always intrigued by the story of the older man but no amount of Google searching revealed any answers as to what had happened. The general consensus was that a personal matter had taken him out of the game and by the time he was ready to go back, it was too late. Mikai had never really learned the truth and he knew the man well enough to know he would not respond well to prying.

  Mikai glanced at the clock above the door.

  “I gotta go. I’m working afternoons this week,” he told Joe, wiping his neck with a towel. Joe nodded absently as a group of teenagers wandered into the gym.

  “Alright man, see you tomorrow. Two more days until you take on ‘The Giant.’ Make sure you get sleep and stay away from the beers.”

  Mikai felt another surge of irritation but flashed him a forced smile before grabbing his bag and heading outside. I shouldn’t be mad that he cares so much. He’s more of a father to me than my own was.

  “Mikai, sit down.”

  He slowly walked into the kitchen of the dilapidated apartment and dropped his bookbag onto the worn linoleum floor. He was still slightly out of breath having outrun Derrek Jameson home from school, narrowly avoiding another beating. His mother’s eyes were swollen and he recognized the signs of crying but for the moment, no tears streaked her gaunt face.

  “What happened, ma?” he asked, sinking into a chair, staring up at her with dark grey eyes, sensing something terrible was about to occur. She did not join him and instead leaned back against the chipped Formica countertop and sighed heavily. Her words came out in a torrent.

  “Your father is gone. He has left us. He fell in love with another woman and he is not coming back.”

  The words did not make sense to thirteen-year-old Mikai and he peered at his mother through thick lensed glasses.

  “No,” he assured her. “He’s just at work, ma. He’s coming back. It’s too early for him to be home now. See?”

  Dianne Duquette shook her head, tears now welling up in her eyes.

  “No, baby. He’s not at work. He has run off with one of his clients’ wives. They have been having an affair for many years. I knew this day was coming but I didn’t want to believe it.”

  Again he shook his head, not believing the words she spoke. She was overtired. Or sick. Dad wouldn’t leave them. Dianne watched her son as he stared at her dubiously and she handed him a tattered letter which was streaked with tears. Mikai recognized his father’s chicken scratch handwriting but the boy refused to read it. His father was a water delivery man. No one would want an old, married delivery man, especially one with a geeky son. His dad loved them. He shook his head, his temper flaring. He threw the sheet down on the table, unread.

  “No!” he yelled. “You’re wrong!”

  Dianne reached out to console her son but he jumped up and glared furiously at her.

  “Why didn’t you stop him?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you tell him to stay?”

  “Oh Mikai, he has been gone for many years. I can’t force him to stay here when he doesn’t want to be here. You can’t force people to love you.” Mikai did not heed the depth of her speech. He was too wrapped up in his own adolescent agony. He turned his anger toward his beloved mother.

  “Why did you drive him away?” he screamed. The tears fell from her gentle blue eyes onto her cheekbones and Mikai regretted his words instantly but he could not retract them. He realized that she was not crying for herself but for his pain and it made him feel worse.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispered but Mikai was already running out of the apartment, away from the truth. But it did not matter how far or how long he ran that day or any other, the truth was always going to be the same. He went looking for Derrek Jameson that day, hoping that the tormentor would hurt him more than the pain he was feeling inside but the bully was nowhere to be found.

  Between the ages of thirteen and fifteen, Michael Duquette showed his face to his son three times. The first time was to present divorce papers to Dianne. He had barely acknowledged his son, ruffling his hair as if he was a yapping puppy instead of his son who missed him severely. The entire encounter had lasted less than ten minutes, ending with Dianne signing the papers and no words being spoken between the estranged husband and wife. Michael tried to fill the awkwardness with false promises of camping trips and ball games but even then, Mikai knew that his father would not follow through.

  The second time Michael showed up, it was the day after Mikai’s fourteenth birthday. Michael dropped in like a whirlwind of happiness, suddenly informing the boy that he had a sibling, a brother named Michael. Mikai had not known that his father’s new wife was pregnant and the news came as a shock. Mikai had not been invited to the wedding, something he was still trying to recover from but the fact that the baby had been born the previous day and Michael did not seem to remember the fact that his first child shared a milestone with his second was enough to drive Mikai almost to the point of a breakdown. Michael left shortly after his proud arrival, grinning as if he had bestowed some great gift upon Mikai with his announcement and without wishing Mikai a happy belated birthday. Dianne had spent the night stroking Mikai’s soft locks, whispering “It’s okay, baby, you’re my number one. You’ll always be my number one man” as Mikai sobbed into his pillow. Of course, Dianne knew that her words would do nothing to alleviate Mikai’s suffering. The boy needed his father and until the end of her life, Dianne did her best to be that man for him.

  The third event that led Michael Duquette back into Mikai’s life was the one which Mikai would remember for as long as he had breath. It was the summer and Mikai was two months shy of his fifteenth birthday. Michael had been sitting on the front stoop of the low-rise apartment complex in the Bronx when his son turned out of the alleyway where he had been smoking a cigarette, a butt he had stolen off his mother. Smoking was his new act of rebellion but Dianne was far too busy to notice and in truth, Mikai was always relieved she never caught on. Dianne had far too many other things to worry about than a fourteen-year-old acting out, things like feeding that boy and ensuring they had a place to live.

  Paling at the sight of his dad, Mikai briefly considered ducking out of sight to avoid seeing the man but Michael had already laid eyes upon his son before Mikai could follow through.

  “Hey Mike!” he called, standing on the crumbling steps, waving casually. Mikai forc
ed a smile and waved back, cringing inside. He had always hated being called Mike, especially after his brother had been christened Michael.

  “Hey dad. What are you doing here?”

  “I tried buzzing but your mom doesn’t seem to be home,” Michael told him, looking back at the building and somehow sidestepping the question. Mikai stared at him as if he had uttered a completely ridiculous statement.

  “She’s working, dad. She’s been working double shifts at the Donut Barn for like six months now,” he informed his father. How can he not know that? Mikai thought angrily. I guess it’s been really easy for him shoving us out of his mind. He’s got a new son and a new wife now.

  “Oh yeah yeah,” Michael nodded agreeably, color warming his cheeks. “I remember now. Sorry, I have a lot on my mind. Can we go inside? I have something I need to talk to you about.”

  Mikai nodded and pulled his keys out of his pocket to allow for them to step into the stifling hot building. That August they were enduring record breaking heat and of course the Duquettes did not have the luxury of even a window air conditioner. Dianne had tried to give Mikai their one oscillating fan for his bedroom but eventually both mother and son had compromised by setting up their mattresses in the living room so they could both sleep through the humid, sticky nights.

  Father and son climbed up the three-storey walk-up in silence and Mikai tried staring at his now estranged father out of the corner of his eye but his glasses made the action difficult. Their relationship had never been exceptionally deep but Mikai still longed for the man, more than he would ever admit to his mother. Dianne had been forced to take a string of menial jobs and even so, they faced eviction proceedings almost monthly. Even in adulthood, Mikai had never quite figured out how Dianne had managed to eke out rent every month. Mikai had begun looking for a part-time job to help their struggling family but no one wanted to hire an awkward looking mouse with coke bottle glasses and a meek disposition. Mikai knew Michael was to blame for the position in which he and his mother found themselves. Michael had pleaded poverty to Dianne, explaining that he would send money to assist the family he had abandoned but he just could not afford it. Especially not with the new baby. Mikai had once overheard his mother bitterly commenting that a woman who could afford to have spring water delivered to her house should be doing okay in the divorce settlement, but Michael seemed to feel that he and his new family were in dire straights. To Dianne’s credit, she never once complained to her young son about his father but Mikai was old enough to read between the lines. It was hard not to understand that Michael Duquette was a selfish man and Mikai desperately wanted to hate his father but he could not bring himself to do it. He had a primitive love for the man, despite the fact that Mikai was vividly aware how undeserving Michael was of his affections.

  Mikai opened the flimsy door to apartment 3B and Michael followed him inside. He firmly closed it and looked up at his father expectantly. Some naïve, child-like part of him yearned for Michael to drop to his knees, apologize for everything he had put them through and beg to come home. But Mikai was old enough to know that wasn’t they way the world worked and he swallowed his hopes. As always, he could smell bad news in the air.

  “Hey, sit down son, I’m not gonna bite you,” Michael joked but there was tension in his voice as he gestured at the chair. Tentatively, Mikai perched on the edge of the rusty metal and continued to stare at the older man.

  “So, how’s school?” he asked with forced cheerfulness. Mikai blinked, his heart sinking.

  “It’s summer,” he answered, trying to keep the bite from his words. “No school.”

  “Ah yeah right! Duh. I forgot. Time really flies, you know?” Michael fidgeted uncomfortably. “I guess you don’t. You’ll find out soon enough. Trust me kid, but when you’re thirteen, everything goes really slow, huh?”

  “I’m fourteen. Almost fifteen,” Mikai heard himself saying flatly. I have the same birthday as your other son, he almost added but he held back even though he no longer felt the need to keep the anger from his voice. To his horror, he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. Dad doesn’t know anything about me, he thought. Mikai swallowed the lump in his throat.

  “What do you want, dad?” he asked bluntly. Michael looked taken aback by his son’s tone and stiffened in his chair.

  “A father can’t just come by and visit with his son anymore?” Michael asked defensively. “Has your mother been saying bad things about me?”

  Mikai stared at Michael, his mouth agape. He stopped himself from spitting back a reply filled with venom.

  “You just told me you need to talk to me about something,” Mikai retorted instead. There was a silence as Michael realized he was caught in a lie. He exhaled slowly, recognizing the time for small talk had come to an end.

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, son but I’m sick,” he said finally. Mikai felt as if all the air in his body had escaped in one single breath. He felt a light- headedness overcome him.

  “What kind of sick?” he whispered, looking for signs of illness. Yes, Michael seemed a little pale but that could just as easily have been due to lack of sleep. Mikai knew that people with babies didn’t sleep a lot. He probably just needs some more sleep, Mikai decided.

  “I have kidney disease. My one kidney is shot. The other one is failing badly.”

  “Oh.” That was all he could think of to say and Mikai sat for a long moment staring at his hands as his adolescent brain tried to absorb what he had just been told. Michael rushed on to fill the uncomfortable silence.

  “I don’t have a lot of time, Mike. I need to find a donor soon or I’ll die.” Mikai nodded slowly as the words seeped in to his head. Die is such a final word, he thought to himself. What an awful, awful word. I wonder where you go when you die, he thought idly. He was starting to lose focus on the conversation, a surreal sensation filling his body.

  “How long do you have?” he asked, trying to listen but a weird roaring was rushing through his ears.

  “The doctors say maybe three months, possibly less. I’m on the list but with my blood type – our blood type, the chances of finding a stranger are low. The doctors don’t have a lot of hope for me that way.”

  “So what are you going to do? What kind of treatment can they do?” Mikai asked innocently, not suspecting the true reason for Michael’s untimely visit. His father cleared his throat for effect, shifting his eyes to the ground.

  “I am asking you to help me, son,” Michael said quietly. “I want you to see if you are a match to me.”

  Mikai whipped his head upward and stared at Michael in disbelief.

  “A match for what?” Mikai asked dumbly even though he suddenly understood why Michael was sitting at the dilapidated table. For a second, the boy thought he saw his father roll his eyes but Michael quickly placed a fake smile onto his lips. Mikai instantly recognized it for what it was.

  “We are the same blood type so you could be a match for a kidney for me,” he said patiently to his son. Mikai stared at him as if he had suddenly sprung another head before his eyes.

  “Want what? You want my kidneys?”

  Dave laughed nervously, clearing his throat again.

  “No no, not your kidneys. Just one. A person can live fine with one healthy kidney.” As if he was speaking in slow motion, Mikai watched his father’s lips move but could not make out the words as red began to color his line of sight. Abruptly he was brought back to reality, a rush of sound washing through his ears. The boy stood up so quickly, the chair fell backward onto the floor with a crash, startling his father.

  “Are you crazy? I can’t give you a kidney, dad! That’s major surgery. Ma needs me around here!”

  “I understand it’s scary, Mike, but you have to think about what’s at stake here. I’m talking about my life here.”

  “I’m talking about my mom here, dad!” Mikai countered furiously. “You remember my mom, right?”

  “Your mom is stronger than you give her credit for, M
ike. She won’t fall apart if you aren’t taking out the garbage,” Michael rushed on, ignoring his son’s jab.

  “In case you have forgotten, dad, you left us here without a dime. We get eviction notices every month. The only reason I have enough to eat is because ma claims she’s eating at work but I know she’s lying because she weighs about as much as a feather. Ma is barely keeping it together as it is. How do you think she’ll feel if she has to be my nurse on top of everything else? Or don’t you care?”

  Michael glared at his son, losing his phony expression, and for the first time, his own anger overpowering his need to beg.

  “You’re almost a grown man, Mike. You can take care of yourself. You won’t need a nurse. You need to be a man!”

  “And I thought I was thirteen!” Mikai snapped back, his fury growing with every word his father spoke. Mikai suddenly saw his father in a new and ugly light and bile rose dangerously in his throat as disgust overwhelmed him. Michael regarded his son, momentarily unsure of which direction to take the conversation.

  “How are you gonna feel if you let your father die?” Michael opted for the guilt trip. From some primitive, dormant place which Mikai never knew existed, a burning rage erupted. He lunged forward, his slender hands balled in a fist.

  “I guess I’ll feel the same way you did when you left us here. NOT GIVING A SHIT!”

  As if recognizing the uncharacteristic aggression in Mikai’s face, Michael stepped back, his mouth pulled into a fine line.

  “What are you gonna do, Mike? Hit me? You can’t even swat a fly properly. I guess that’s my fault for leaving you around your mom so much but someone had to work around here and your mom never got off her ass. It’s not your fault you’re a pussy but I would like to be alive to teach my new son how to be a man.” Out of nowhere, Mikai’s left fist flew up and landed squarely on his father’s nose. Blood spurted everywhere and Michael stared at him in shock. Dazed, Mikai’s father reached up and wiped the sticky liquid from his face.