“Do you have names for the dolls?”
She frowns, “No. I never thought they needed names.”
EVERYONE NEEDS A NAME
Sarah laughs.
“What?”
“You are talking to yourself again.”
“Oh man,” I sigh, the windowpane shaking, “it must be bad if I can’t even notice the difference.”
Sarah shrugs, “That’s what this is all for.”
WHAT IS IT FOR?
“You realize you’re asking a child, right?”
I pretend to laugh, “Well, age is relative in my opinion.”
“Good answer.”
“Thanks.”
WHAT HAPPENS NOW?
Weren’t we talking?
I was asking a question, I think.
“You’re a wreck, you know that?”
I lie back in the bed, “I know…”
Sarah hands me a doll, “Let’s play a game.”
WHAT KIND OF GAME?
“Here, take this doll.”
“It’s a little girl…”
She makes a face, “So?”
OKAY, OKAY
Sarah assumes the role of the father, the dad, that doll that had represented me during my theoretical fight.
“We talk like this.”
“Like this?” I do my best to mimic the high-pitched voice of a young girl while Sarah does her best to mimic the low guttural voice of an adult male.
She smiles, “Yeah!”
As the dad figure, she asks me, “What round is it?”
“Round ten.”
“It’s almost over.”
I nod, “Yeah it is.”
Makes a face.
Whoops, I broke character. In the guise of the doll, I repeat myself, “Yeah it is.”
“How does it feel to have ended your career?”
I think about this, “I don’t really know what to feel.”
NO ONE IS SUPPOSED TO KNOW
WHAT HAPPENS NEXT
“That’s okay,” Sarah replies.
ALL YOU CAN DO IS PLAN FOR TOMORROW
“You already understand,” Sarah laughs, “you just need to admit to yourself that it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
She moves the doll’s arm, a mock-scolding gesture, “You can’t keep playing dumb. It’s a new era for you. You can be whatever you want to be. You can change whatever you want to change. If you’re lucky, you won’t see yourself in the mirror. You’ll get to watch from the outside looking in. You get to settle down and appreciate all that you’ve done.”
SHE’S RIGHT
“I know I’m right,” Sarah grins.
In the guise of the doll, I ask Sarah, “Who is your favorite boxer?”
“Willem Floures of course!”
“But what was your best fight, in your opinion?”
“I like this one.”
“Which one?”
“The one that’s just about to end.”
The house is silent, little more than a low rumble from the basement.
THE PERFECT FIGHT
In that low voice, she tells me, “I don’t know if anything can be perfect, but it’s been a really great fight.”
I WILL BE REMEMBERED FOR IT
“You will be remembered in general, Willem.”
I smile and it’s a genuine smile.
I look around the room, to the mirror where I can see my reflection and it’s the reflection of Willem at the end of his career.
I whisper to myself.
IT’S OKAY
Clearly the game is over but Sarah keeps speaking in that voice. “It makes me sound older,” she grins.
I laugh, and it’s a real laugh, no underlying accusation, no other harm outside of the expression laughter typically brings: humor, hilarity, something said or done that registers pleasant, merry response.
I tell her, “Your dad is going to be busy training ‘James.’”
She moves the dollhouse aside.
Sits down on the floor and looks up at me, “I’m going to be busy too. I have to take care of you.”
TAKE CARE OF ME
“You are a wreck, but so was ‘James’ when Dad retired him.”
Everything clicks into place.
I look in the mirror, at my reflection as it begins to fade, but only a little, enough to notice that my stake in the spotlight has completely ended.
And you know what?
I’M OKAY WITH IT
I exhale, “I guess you are right. I could get used to this.”
Sarah asks me, “What do you plan on getting used to?”
I listen to the silence.
I tell her, “I’m going to face the laughter.”
She grins.
“I want to change. I want to be something else. Like you said, I get to be the fighter after the fighting. I get to figure out what that means, and I’m okay with that. I choose to embrace challenge. I’ll haunt somewhere else.”
Sarah breaks character, saying in her own voice, “Yay!”
Yeah. Let the world go on without me. I will be here. I will haunt the areas that heal me, and I will soon be healed. I have time before I turn into someone else. I have time to decide who I’ll become.
Sarah grins, “You can only be yourself.” She turns on the TV I didn’t notice until now and sits on the bed as we watch the final round of the fight.
A moment later we hear the sounds of the house settling.
Getting used to this.
First thing I have to do is break some bad habits. That means this is where I leave you. I can’t keep talking to myself. If I keep it up, you might get the idea that none of this really happened and that’s the last thing I need. I’ve played the insanity card and it got me a few wins but one too many punches to the ego. So, yeah, this is where I leave you.
IT’S ME, WILLEM
It’s been real.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Michael J Seidlinger has been in the ring long enough to experience the sting of a perfectly timed power punch. He’d like to think that every novel represents a fight its author has both fought and won. His other fights include My Pet Serial Killer and The Sky Conducting. He owns and operates Civil Coping Mechanisms, an indie press specializing in innovative fiction and poetry. Find him on Facebook, Twitter (@mjseidlinger), and at michaeljseidlinger.com.
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