Jesse felt his stomach drop down to the floor. “Does that mean there’s nothing….”
Evan smiled, and Jesse was struck by his pretty face, those clear blue eyes. Just for a moment, he felt like he was looking into a clear mountain lake, the water just that color blue, clear and impossibly deep, and he was falling….
Jesse caught himself, but Evan was quicker, a strong arm around his waist holding him up. “I can help.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Let’s do some body work,” Evan said. “I guess for a professional athlete, the best language is the body. I’m used to treating people who’ve had strokes. They like to ease into it a bit, and they’re uncomfortable with their changed bodies. I don’t think that’s your deal. Okay, two things first. You know that the brain can heal itself?”
Jesse frowned at him. “No, I didn’t. I thought once you had damage to your brain, it was there for good.”
“You usually can’t get back to where it was before the injury, but healing does take place, and your brain can make new connections. That’s the important point for you. Your brain can make new connections that will take over the job of noticing your body’s sense of its place in the world. So you can balance. No question you’ll be able to do this. Second, have you ever studied Chinese exercise or medicine? Tai Chi or Qigong?”
Jesse shook his head.
“Qi is like life energy. It’s present in everything, the earth, the sky, rocks, living creatures. You can harness the power of this life energy, use it to help yourself heal.”
They were standing on a thin foam mat. Jesse pulled off his shoes, stood opposite Evan. He was wondering if this Qi force was something he could use in boxing, give him a little edge of power.
“I’m going to put a DVD in that shows the basic moves, and you try to follow it. I’ll do the same moves next to you. Then we’ll do some Integrative Manual Therapy, and that’ll be enough for today. Sound good?”
Jesse studied his face. He looked grave, like he wanted to be taken seriously. But he was a happy guy, and his face looked like it smiled when it wasn’t laughing. Those blue eyes, they could throw out a mean twinkle. “Is Integrative Manual Therapy anything like a massage?”
“Not really, but you can close your eyes and pretend if you want.” There was the grin he was looking for. “I’m certainly planning to enjoy it. I mean, look at you! It’ll be like working on Batman. When he’s out of the bat-suit. Stripped down to his Clark Kent skin.”
“Clark Kent is Superman. Batman is Bruce Wayne. You don’t know your superheroes, my friend.”
Evan just grinned at him again, started the DVD playing. “Nope. Now let’s get your Qi flowing.”
Jesse loved the Qigong, the liquid movements that almost seemed like a dance. They started with Swimming Dragon, then Dragon Pearl, and he thought he could feel the energy between his hands, the Qi Evan was talking about. He blocked everything out, concentrated on his breathing, the movements. He felt like he was moving through clouds. When the DVD ended, Evan turned to him, a little chagrin fighting with the smile on his face. “Have you done this before?”
Jesse shook his head, then looked at the small crowd of people who had gathered, and were watching them, through the glass walls of the PT room.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Evan moved to the door, waving his hands like he was shooing away a flock of geese.
“It’s okay,” Jesse said. “Par for the course.” He picked up a pen off Evan’s desk, walked out to the crowd of therapists and nurses and signed some autographs. He could see a couple of folks were tucking cell phones into their scrub pockets.
Evan gave him a few minutes, then ran the group off so they could finish. “So I take it you’re famous?”
Jesse laughed at him. “Apparently not with everyone. You have someplace a little more private we can work? I like that Qigong. Feels good, easy movements. Might be a good cool-down after a serious workout.”
“How long do you usually work out in a normal day? When you’re in training for a fight?”
“At least six hours. Sometimes more.”
“Wow, that’s a lot. You get hurt much?”
“Very little. I’m careful, and I take excellent care of myself.” He thought that sounded a little pretentious. “I mean, it’s my work. I take it seriously, you know? Nothing special. A lot of people take their work seriously.”
“The hydro room doesn’t have see-through walls. Why don’t we do the therapy in there? And before next session I’ll figure out a place we can work in private.”
“Thanks. That would be good.”
Evan led him down the hall and pushed open the door to a room with three big steel tanks and a couple of therapy tables.
“Looks like you guys are making beer in here.”
“I wish.” Evan grabbed a couple of towels, lay them out on a table. He studied Jesse’s clothes. “You have shorts on under the track pants?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe let’s work with just shorts then. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Yeah, okay.” Jesse tugged the tee-shirt over his head and slipped the track pants off, then climbed on to the table.
Evan was looking at him, eyes enormous. “You know, you’re really rather startling, wearing just your skin and a pair of blue bike shorts.”
“Startling? What do you think a heavyweight boxer looks like?”
“The thought had never occurred to me, before this very moment. You don’t take steroids, do you?”
Jesse rolled his eyes at him. “Of course not. Do I look like a fool?”
“They’re dangerous for the heart.”
“Yes, Evan. I know.”
Evan threw up his hands. “Okay, sorry, sorry! Let’s get started. I’m going to move my finger around, and you try and touch it with your finger, okay? Right hand first.”
They went through a series of exercises designed to develop position sensitivity. By the time Evan had him face down on the table, and was giving him a brisk backrub, Jesse was wondering if he was wasting his time. He rolled over, felt Evan’s hands slide across his back to his flat belly, rest there. “My friend, I think you’re going to have to bring your A game. This isn’t enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re gonna have to push me harder. This has been fun and all, but it’s easy. I don’t see me making any substantial improvements if it’s this easy.”
“When you normally train, you work until you feel some resistance, and then you push through it?” Jesse nodded. “This is different, Jesse. You can’t bull your way through it. You have to use a delicate touch, give your brain time to adjust, gather your Qi. I know it’s not the way you’re used to training, but I think it’s the right way. You have disequilibrium because of a blow to the head, and we need to work on proprioception. This is the way to do it.”
“I don’t have much time. I’ve got a match in four months, a title fight. You understand what that is?”
Evan shook his head. “I’m not sure I do.”
“Once you’re world champion, you only stay world champion as long as no one takes it away from you. And people are always lined up to take it away. I either fight for it, or the organization takes it away.”
“And it’s important to you to stay world champion?”
Jesse stared at him, then he sat up, slid off the table. “That’s the only thing that matters.”
Evan frowned up at him, put his hands on his hips. “You’ve got a tiny scar on your brain, my friend, and your only goal is to get back into the ring and get another one? What is the matter with you?”
“I usually don’t get hit.”
“For how many times in the ring? How many fights before it happens again?”
“Are you going to help me out or not?”
Evan stared at him, and his face relaxed into a grin. “Okay, I’ll help you. But don’t expect me to stop trying to turn you away from the dark side, young Jedi. You’re like one o
f those old men in cardiac rehab, sneaking off to Mickey D’s to get French fries and piling on the salt.”
“Oh, God, I want some French fries. I’ve had a craving for a week.”
Evan laughed, handed him a towel. “How about pizza and a beer? Is that allowed on your training schedule?”
Jesse thought about supper, a piece of broiled chicken, some steamed kale, and yogurt and peaches for dessert. “Absolutely not. Don’t let anybody take a picture of me, okay? If my trainer finds out I’m eating pizza, he’ll kick my ass.”
Jesse ducked into the shower, and when he came out, Evan was out of his scrubs, dressed in jeans and a wrinkled shirt of wheat-colored linen. “I’m going to take you to my favorite beer and pizza joint. You can get slices, and it’s really dark, so back in the corner booth you’ll be incognito. Practically invisible. Like Batman on the lam. It’s close. We can walk.”
Guido’s was two blocks away, and like Evan promised, it had excellent slices and very cold beer. Jesse got four slices with pepperoni and Italian sausage, and Evan brought them a couple of tall bottles of Alaskan Amber. The joint was warm, and it smelled good, like garlic frying in olive oil. Nobody gave him a second look once he’d slid into the booth. Evan sat next to him, pulled one of the pieces of pizza over and lifted it to his mouth. “Oh, man, that’s good.” He lifted his bottle of beer and took a long swallow. “So tell me about you.”
Jesse was enjoying the show, watching Evan stuff his face and get pizza sauce all over his chin. He reached over with a napkin and wiped the sauce up. “You’re a pig. Why don’t you tell me about you? I talk about myself all the time.”
“I’m just a lonely PT, looking forward to beer and pizza at the end of a long day. Especially when my patients do not take my suggestions, and nobody does what I tell them to do.”
“Yeah? Is that what would make you happy? If everybody did what you told them to do?”
Evan gave him a quizzical look. “I’m already happy, bud. That’s like my baseline state of being. Aren’t you?”
Jesse opened his mouth, then hesitated. He picked up his beer and took a sip. It was good, cold and rich tasting. “It’s not on my list of necessary emotions in order to be the heavyweight champion of the world.”
Evan reached for another piece of pizza. “I can’t tell if you’re full of shit when you talk like that. I’ve never met another world champion at anything, so I don’t know if its hubris or some massive inflated ego, or if your trainers have just done a number on you. You don’t really think you have to give up being happy to be a champion?”
Jesse shrugged. “Sometimes, when you want something long enough and hard enough, you have to forget about everything else. It just gets to be a habit to feel hungry. What did you call it? The baseline state of being. My baseline state of being is hungry. Haven’t you ever wanted something enough to give up everything else?”
“When I was younger I played guitar and sang. Sort of late sixties soft rock. I was okay, I guess, but I didn’t want it enough to give up everything else. When it got down to the bones, I just didn’t care that much. I loved the music, but I was bored with all the me, me, me. I looked around, thought I really wanted to talk to other people all day, see what they thought. See what I could do for them.”
“Do you still play?”
“Sometimes. For my friends. If I’m trying to talk some good-looking boy into coming home with me, I might play him a tune on my guitar.”
“Good reason to play.” God, the pizza was good. Rich and cheesy and spicy. He cracked a caraway seed between his teeth, wondered if Corry was going to smell garlic on his breath in the morning.
“Is it hard being a gay boxer? Do the other guys hassle you?”
Jesse barely heard the question, drifting along on the bliss of the pizza. “Who says I’m gay? Besides, when I’m in training, I’m not anything. There’s no room for distraction. You’ve got to keep your eye on the ball, concentrate, you know what I mean?”
“You’ve given up happiness and sex to be the heavyweight champion of the world? You sure it’s worth it?”
Jesse felt that hunger again, hunger down in his chest like he’d swallowed a bit of the sun. “Yeah, it’s worth it.”
“I can tell you’re gay.”
“Whatever. One more beer. I’m buying.”
They walked back to the Elks Hospital, climbed in separate cars, and drove home. Jesse fixed a cup of green tea, did some of the Qigong movements again, the bamboo floor under his bare feet cool and smooth. He loved the way these movements felt, so liquid and elegant, but powerful. Powerful in a different way than a strong right upper cut. Then he climbed in bed, sat up against his headboard with the cup of tea, wondered what Evan was doing.
Jesse imagined he was climbing into a bed with the sheets and blankets still tangled up from this morning. His place was a mess, clothes thrown over a chair, a stack of books next to the bed. A big music system, and his CDs were in order, carefully put away. Did he have a pet? A dog? No, he had a cat, probably an old cat he’d adopted. Jesse could see it curled up in the blankets at the end of his bed.
What was his life like? What would it feel like, to have a life filled with mild chaos and happiness and the occasional boy over for some guitar playing, and his work trying to help people who did not always follow his suggestions? How did that life feel? And what would Evan think of his life, his beautiful condo, one wall solid glass for the light, and the view, the cool bamboo floors, the wide clean spaces. It was empty of distraction, because his life was empty of distractions, a perfect mirror of his inner world. It didn’t seem lonely to him, not really. Not usually. Just focused, free of extraneous detail.
The tea was perfect, clear and pale green, and he set the cup down on the bedside table and turned out the light. Not really lonely at all, and then he wondered who he was talking to. Who was he trying to convince? He curled up on his side, just for a moment let himself think of what it would feel like to have a messy, smiling boy curled up next to him.
CHAPTER THREE
The gym was like an old buddy, rough and tumble, with the satisfying thump of gloves hitting bags, little grunts of effort from men who felt the hunger like he did. Corry was pouring coffee from the never-empty pot in the trainer’s office. “Hey, kid. How was the PT?”
Jesse pulled up a chair. “I don’t know,” he said. “It was a lot easier than I expected. He did a bunch of balance tests, then we did this Chinese exercise.”
“What, tai chi?”
“Qigong.” Jesse looked at him curiously. “You do tai chi? I wouldn’t have guessed it.”
“I’m doing it for my arthritis. My doctor told me it would help once I got the ulcer and I couldn’t take the pain medicine anymore.”
“I read some on the Qigong last night, about healing energy and balance. It seems like the right approach, but I wasn’t expecting it to be so easy. I mean, I didn’t have to push at all.”
“Jesse, there hasn’t been much you’ve tried to do physically that was hard for you. You’re in good shape. You’re in tune with your body. It should be easy. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t gonna help.”
“I do like the way it feels. The movements are almost liquid. Almost think I can use it in the ring.”
“Yeah? You want to spar, try it out?”
“I think so. Who’s around?”
“Bo’s here.”
“He’s just a baby.”
“Yeah, but you were a baby once. He’s hungry, like you were. He looks at you sometimes… I don’t know what that boy’s thinking.”
Jesse raised his eyebrows. No, Corry didn’t know what that boy was thinking. It would never cross his mind. Evan would nail it in a New York minute, though.
He went into the ring, did a few of the exercises he remembered from the day before. Bo climbed in, handed him a pair of gloves. “What are you doing?”
“Chinese exercises. For balance.”
“Yeah? Can you teach me?”
&nbs
p; “When I know more I’ll teach you. I only leaned these for the first time yesterday.”
Bo laced up Jesse’s gloves, then slipped a pair onto his own hands and held the laces out to the kid with the towels. He looked up then, and Jesse caught just a glimpse of that hunger on his face before he frowned, stared down at the floor, did a few warm up bounces on his toes.
Bo was a towheaded kid, about twenty-five, with big brown eyes the color of melting chocolate, and some old scars through his eyebrows, like he’d been knocked around when he was a boy. He’d been hanging around the gym since he was fourteen, had seen lots of dreams end, and one, Jesse’s, climb higher and higher.
Jesse stretched his back, felt the energy flow up his spine. “Bo, do me a favor? I want you to try some left hooks, and I’m gonna try and move out of the way using this Qigong I learned yesterday. Okay?”
“You want me to really hit you?”
Jesse reached out, gave him a little tap on the chin. “You think you can, big man?” And he danced back, out of the kid’s reach.
Bo was short for a boxer, just five eight, and his reach was always a problem. But he was game, with a lot of heart, didn’t mind crowding into the danger zones. Jesse wanted him to move that left arm into the right side of his face, to see if the little stutter in his eye was still there. He didn’t know how to explain it to Evan, but it felt like his eye had a flinch when something was moving fast near his face. He didn’t know if it was from the sucker-punch or from the surgery to fix the retina, but it seemed to be developing into a reflex, and he needed to stop it.
They touched gloves, danced back a step, then Bo came at him fast. He was like a bull, all rush and pounding blows, and Jesse slid away from him, blocked the blows easily. He let the left hook come close before he moved his head back, had Bo stop and do it again and again. When they finished, he worked with Bo for a few minutes more, showed him some tricky inside moves with a little twist of the hips at the end, so he could spin out of trouble.
Corry sent him to the stadium to do wind sprints up and down the bleachers, then they sat down over lunch to review the training schedule. Corry was eating a Hoagie. The meat and pickled peppers and roasted tomatoes were sliding out of the bread, dripping olive oil and oregano all over the napkins. Jesse stared at it for a long moment, then ate his grilled salmon with some broiled squash on the side.
Don't Read in the Closet volume one Page 7