The Fight Within

by Laveen, Tiana

  “I wonder how much that PlayStation is worth?” he asked, pressing his hard body against her. His seductive, woodsy scent drove her wild, brought her deeper under his spell.

  “I’m sure it is worth more to the person that had to sell it than it is to the pawn shop.”

  “It’s just a bunch of shit, just things,” he whispered.

  “Yeah…but sometimes things mean more than just, well, what they seem to be.”

  “I think everyone has too much shit.”

  “And I think shit has a claim on everyone…”

  “It’s not worth it.” He buried his chin in her hair and clasped his arms around her waist.

  “What is worth, Sean? Nothing is actually worth anything until someone else says it is.”

  She made out the expression of thoughtfulness on his face.

  “That’s true,” he uttered after a few moments of silence. “But people define worth. Who makes these rules?”

  “We do. The people that change the rules are the same people benefiting from the status quo, so they don’t change the policies very often and when they do, not by much.”

  “I’ve been told I’m not worth much. Must’ve been by the same people changing, or essentially not changing the rules.” He chuckled, said it with a huge grin, one so big, if one were looking at him from a distance, they’d think he was amused beyond belief. She studied his face harder in the reflection, noting the curvature of his smile, the pain in his eyes…

  What a sad clown…

  What masks he wears…

  How can one be so genuine yet so guarded and hidden all at once?

  “Sean, let me give you some unsolicited advice. You are a hell of a man, and many people will be threatened by you. You’re powerful, your mind is sharp, and you’re decisive. There are going to be people who see that, become envious, and try to tear you down. You have to be careful, baby. Never let other people define you…”

  “I don’t.” His smile dissipated ever so slowly, like air escaping a punctured bike tire.

  “Do you know how much you’re worth? Have you had yourself appraised?” she questioned with a smirk.

  “I thought I couldn’t let other people define me. Being appraised would mean I’d done just that.”

  “No. I’m talking about self-appraisal. You sit yourself down; you evaluate what you want out of life and what you have at that current time to obtain it. Not necessarily just material goods, but the things that make you happy, the experiences life has to offer.”

  “I don’t really…I dunno.” He shrugged and cleared his throat, seemingly growing uncomfortable as his grip on her loosened a bit. “I guess I haven’t done it in that manner, not in the way you described.” A small smile budded across his face. “I guess it’s worth lookin’ into, huh?”

  “I think you’re worth looking into…”

  “You want to look into me, hmmm? If I let you, what do you think you’d find?” His warm breath swayed the curls against her ear.

  “A man made of gold who thinks he’s made of tin foil…”

  His smile vanished in an instant and he released her completely, even taking a couple of steps back as if she had been diagnosed right then and there with a deadly, contagious disease. Turning away from the pawnshop window, she looked him directly in the eye, drawing him toward her with a grin, coming alive again with the anticipation of his touch.

  He came back to her. Her gut curled with orgasmic spasms as she weakened in his grip, prepared for another one of his ‘I’m not ready’, knock you out cold, fall dead on your ass kisses. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her waist and looked deeply into her eyes.

  “I’m sorry if I made ya uncomfortable in the restaurant… But can’t you tell what my problem is?”

  “Your problem? Besides you being stark raving mad, no,” she joked. And then, unable to resist, she raised eager fingers to the man’s dark chocolate brown strands and caressed them…so soft…

  A chill meandered down her spine as he lifted her chin, delivered a succulent, fat kiss, then stared her dead in the eye.

  “Treasure, you make me feel crazy. You make me feel like I can’t do shit without you…like I need you so damn bad. I do need you so damn bad. Baby, you’re exactly what I needed. You’re what I was looking for, and I didn’t even know I was on the search.” He groaned into her hair as he nestled his face in the crook of her neck, squeezed her harder and harder, forcing her to feel his beating chest against her breasts. People walked past them, leaving them there, letting them have this surreal moment while they went on to their destinations, not paying the besotted couple any mind.

  And then, it became official. She thought she’d pissed her pants, but oh no, it was just the ‘little girl’ talking, dripping her fair share of ‘sugar-wall’ juice from his heart-pounding words. Instead of fighting, dragging the shit out, she gripped the man’s face, refused to let him turn away.

  “Sean, look at me.” He slowly opened his eyes, his lips slightly parted, revealing the vulnerability in his eyes. “I feel the exact.same.way. You’ve got me…”

  They remained quiet for a bit, then crossed the street. She had no idea where they were going or how long they’d be, nor did she care. All she knew was that she was with the man she adored—the only thing that mattered. He’d secured a slot in her life, one that kept growing and changing every second of every day. After her children, he was the first person on her mind in the wee hours of the morning, from the moment she woke up, and the one who consumed her thoughts when her head hit the damn pillow at night. She’d even occasionally dream about the man. First and last thought he may be, but even more than that, he was steadily climbing within her spirit, chasing away her fears, so close to a permanent spot right in the middle of her heart…

  ‡

  Chapter Eleven

  “It’s not like that, Colin.” Sean completed his push-ups, doing his final one out of a set of fifty. He’d just finished at the gym an hour beforehand, but was still amped, rearing to get himself in tip top shape for his upcoming fight against a bastard known to rearrange faces like fucking Picasso. He paused, looked at his hard, callous palms, now indented from the carpet fiber imprint and burning with heat as he pushed all of his weight down upon them. The beige rug had gone flat like a tortilla beneath him. He swiped his slightly sweaty face with the back of his hand, got up from the ground, and fell back onto the broken-in couch in his mother’s living room, sighing with instant relief at the same time his muscles screamed in agony. “I already told you this a few days ago anyway. There’s nothing else to tell.”

  “Sure there is. You’ve been seein’ this chick for a long ass time, don’t think you’re foolin’ anybody. So I’m right, right? It’s serious,” Colin probed, his head turned to the television screen, watching a re-run of ‘The Big Bang Theory’. Popping a ranch flavored Dorito into his big mouth, he crunched it heartily.

  “Yeah, we’ve been seein’ each other for a while now.” He crossed his ankles and yawned.

  “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from me. You and that superstition bullshit about if you say something, it’ll get ruined. Anyway, what does she look like? Gotta pic on your phone you can show me?” Colin gave a devilish grin as he slumped in his seat in obvious anticipation, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited for some lusty, explicit details to roll out of Sean’s mouth.

  “You already asked me this, and I said it was inconsequential.”

  “Oh bullshit and look at you usin’ the big words, college boy! That means she’s either ugly as a swollen hemorrhoid on the ass of a baboon, or she’s so good lookin’, you’re afraid I’ll steal ‘er from ya,” he teased, forcing Sean to grin and give him the middle finger.

  “She’s pretty…real nice lookin’. Give me those chips.”

  His brother handed them over and stared at him from the corner of his eye. Sean plunged his hand in the loud, crinkly bag, grabbing hold to a fistful of delicious junk.

  “Yo
u have a fight coming up, you better watch the Doritos, man,” his brother warned, as if truly looking out for his well-being. Sean knew better; they were Colin’s favorite flavor, and he didn’t want to part with them, end up with nothing but the crumbs that dwelled at the bottom of the bag. “Give me some details, man. You told me you were done with women. Something changed your mind. It’s like pullin’ fuckin’ teeth with you about this tonight!”

  “Ahh.” He winced and shrugged. “Man, who cares?! Okay, fine.” He huffed, popped one in his mouth, crunching it fast, and swallowed hard. “She’s about 5’8, hair that falls to about her shoulders, a bit longer. She’s black. She’s good looking, shit, not sure what else to say. Oh, she’s got a nice body, too.”

  “About what size are her breasts?”

  “Colin, are you fuckin’ serious?” Sean laughed hoarsely and popped another chip into his mouth before handing the bag back over.

  “I’m just asking! Don’t act like you haven’t asked me the same about most of the chicks I’ve dated in the past! Pshhht!” He dramatically rolled his blue eyes.

  “I dunno, maybe 36 B, something like that. She’s built real nice, okay?”

  “How old is she, cougar chaser? Granny-panty lovin’ bastard… Whose cane and walker are you chasing this time around?” the man pestered, causing Sean to suck his lower lip and narrow his eyes in annoyance.

  “Forty-two. She sure as hell doesn’t look it. Looks my age…must have good genes. I figured she was older though.”

  “Why?”

  “Man, her pad!” He craned his neck hard in Colin’s direction. “Her house is something rich old people would have…you outta see this shit.” He slicked his hand in the top of his pants and readjusted himself; his damn nuts were squished. “It’s real nice.”

  “She’s rich, then?” The man’s curiosity seemed definitely piqued now, beyond the physical attributes that he’d been previously pleading for.

  “I don’t believe so. She’s okay though, can take good care of herself.”

  His brother nodded in approval, and then those devilish blue eyes of his twinkled…

  “You fuck ’er yet?”

  “Not yet.” He sighed. “When I do, you’ll be the first name written down on my ‘Do Not Tell List’.”

  Just then, their mother walked into the room. Her lime green gown flowed around her stout body as if she were some angel drifting about as she made her way to her favorite chair. She set down a big wooden bowl of chili, chock full of kidney beans and onions and topped with shredded cheese, along with a few Saltine crackers stuffed on the side of the container.

  “Are you two eating here tonight? If so, you better hurry because your father is on his third serving,” she said in almost a whisper. Leaning back, she crossed her ankles and plucked a cracker into her mouth.

  They both stood like shooting rockets ready for blast off and made a fast dash into the tiny bright kitchen, only to find their old man with his rounded, clean-shaven face hovering over the hot, simmering silver pot, dark brown lines of goodness stained on the side of the damn thing from where it had bubbled over. A big, silver ladle hung poised in his hand, prepared for battle.

  “Hey! Save some for us!” Colin chided.

  Their father chuckled and scooped out a bit into his white stoneware bowl, grabbed a packet of half crushed oyster crackers from some carryout joint, and made his way to the tiny card table in the kitchen. The man plopped down in a chair that tilted to the left, along with the warped floor that had never been repaired after a terrible roof leak during a harsh winter several years earlier. The older man worked the crackers into a fine dust, smashing them to bits with the underside of his spoon, while occasionally throwing glances at the tiniest television screen Sean had ever seen. Grabbing two tan plastic bowls from the cabinet, Colin handed one to Sean, as if it were some gift. They lingered around the stove, shoulder to damn shoulder. The wondrous smell of the chili made his damn stomach flip.

  “Ma’s chili is the best,” Sean declared as he scooted his brother out the way, pushing him to the side to help himself. He filled his bowl to the rim.

  “It is,” Colin agreed as he elbowed him back. “Stop hoggin’ it and hurry up.”

  “I am, stop rushin’ me.”

  “Well you’re standing there takin’ your sweet sassy malassy time! I gotta go to work tonight.”

  “And I’ve got class tonight, hold your damn horses.”

  “That’s on the computer!”

  “Doesn’t matter, I still have to be on time.”

  After a few moments, they both sat themselves back in the living room with their mother. Chili bowl in hand, the woman kicked up her legs on an overstuffed pillow causing her pink, fuzzy house shoes to dangle on the ends of her wide, short feet. She smiled sweetly with her red painted lips, shooting Sean a syrupy glance, the kind laden with unspoken darling declarations as she geared up for something he wanted no damn part of. But…no words were shared. Thinking he was off the damn hook, he continued to stab the delicious food with his spoon, working it around and around in his mouth, until he caught her batting her lashes at him once more. Though he tried to ignore the lady dressed like a freshly sprung spring tulip, he had no doubt she was about to say some shit he didn’t exactly want to hear, and like the predicament of a confused cat stuck in a tree, there would be no way out of it.

  “So Sean, Colin says you’re dating a nice girl.” She took a shy little bite of her chili as if she hadn’t just been sucking it down like her Dyson vacuum moments prior. She rolled the stingy serving about in her mouth, pausing to obviously savor her own craftsmanship, as if professing it the finest thing in the world.

  “You big mouthed son of a bitch…” He shot his brother a stone-cold glare.

  “Watch your language in front of ya mother!” Their father shouted from his kitchen man-cave, his mouth obviously full as he smacked between his words.

  Colin looked straight ahead, no doubt proud of himself for starting this sordid mess.

  “I met someone, Ma, but it’s nothing to report right now, okay?” He took another bite of his food and turned his attention back toward the television, refusing to get into the details. If he admitted the truth, that he was smitten with the damn woman, had fallen in love and thought about her the moment he opened his eyes in the morning, his mother would start calling caterers and floral shops, and her priest, too. If he just laid low, this may all blow over…but deep down, he knew better. Colin had planted the seed, and Ma would nurture the fuck out of it until it was Jack and the motherfucking Beanstalk in a nanosecond.

  “Colin says she’s an interior designer.” He didn’t need to look at her. He could tell by her tone she was grinning from ear to fucking ear.

  “Yeah…” He jammed his spoon into his bowl and took another hearty bite.

  “Where does she live?”

  “She’s from Brooklyn, Ma, but she lives in Larchmont Manor.” He turned toward her, finally accepting his fate.

  Colin, I’m gonna beat your ass later… beat it real good.

  “Larchmont Manor? Well, heavens!” The woman gingerly touched her chest as if she were some old southern belle ripped out of the archives of 1935. “She’s rich, huh?” The woman smiled so hard, the faint dimple on her left cheek looked suddenly deep.

  “She’s doin’ alright, Ma, she’s doin’ alright.” He took another bite of his food, then shot a look at the nearby digital clock, and the assortment of strange ass cuckoo clocks too, now regretting the earlier admission that he could stay an hour more.

  “Is she a nice lady, Sean?”

  “Yes, Ma, she’s very nice.” He wanted to kill Colin, kill ’im dead, and bust him right in the center of his shit-starting face. His bastard of a brother stifled a laugh a time or two, but cloaked it by shoveling in another mouthful of chili, savoring the moment.

  “Is she a good Catholic girl, Sean?” his mother asked seriously.

  The woman would carry on about this sort of thing
in years past. It ruled her mind, seemed pivotal in her decisions on who was a keeper and who wasn’t. No doubt he could come home and say, ‘Ma, I met a woman. She’s a mass murderer, masturbates in public, tried to set the inhabitants of a petting zoo on fire, and has slept with two hundred and thirty men, fifty-seven percent of whom were married …but she goes to mass every Sunday, dutifully.’

  ‘Oh that’s just beautiful, Sean! A nice Catholic girl! My dream come true! Tell her if she ever needs to borrow my gasoline canister for her next petting zoo trip, to just call!’

  …And he knew she couldn’t freaking help it.

  Though their mother was accustomed to each of her sons dating all sorts of women, she had a hard time with the whole religion thing. She wanted her boys to date nice Catholic girls and though she seemed to harbor no ill will toward Lydia, Colin’s girlfriend, Lydia wasn’t Catholic; she was Protestant, wore tight clothes, was half Italian and half French, and had a potty mouth that made Colin and Sean look like choir boys. That didn’t bode too well for Mrs. Mahoney.

  “Ma, I honestly don’t know…we don’t discuss religion.”

  “Well,” she took another bite of her food, her expression grim and tight, “you need to find out.”

  He said nothing, just turned back toward the television, praying it was the end of the whole damn conversation.

  “I hope you’ve stopped having premarital sex, young man. Have you fornicated with her, Sean?” she asked seriously, causing him to almost spray the chili out of his damn mouth like a fire hose. He swallowed down the stuff and glared at her, not believing his damn ears. It was true. As his parents aged, they became more child-like, lost their damn filter. He was one to talk, but geesh, he’d always been an ass; no sense in changing now.

  “Ma! Really?! What would make ya ask me something like that?!”

  She gave a slight shrug. “I’m hip. I know what’s going on in the world.”