by Sunniva Dee
“I’m sure of what I’m doing,” I whisper, choked up and honest. “Will you come?”
“Of course I will. I’d never turn down a free ticket to Europe, especially not if I get to support my bestest roommate.”
Victor Skypes me. I can’t look into his beautiful face today—today isn’t a day where I can raise a mask and keep it up. His fight is next weekend and I need to bottle up the horrifying status of my life until he has won. It’s dawning on me that he’s the love of my life, and I’d never jeopardize his happiness for a temporary relief of my own.
Elfriede’s here, folding linens and watching me cringe and not accept his calls.
“Madchen” she sighs. “You have set yourself up badly this time.”
I cover my face with my hands, and just like that I start to cry. My sweet nanny, she’s soft and safe to lean against. I wish she could get me out of my trouble the way she used to when I was little.
The new engagement ring waits in my nightstand drawer, next to the one Victor pried off my finger. Gunther hasn’t asked where ring number one is, a testament to the kind of money he’s amassed.
What if I sold both rings and paid for the repairs?
Right, Helena. That’s going to fly.
“Call that boy back,” Elfriede says.
“I will. Just… I need to not feel like this first.”
“Oh little girl.”
VICTOR
I’ve been at Stripes three times this month. I don’t drink there, and I don’t stay late. All I do is sit with the guys and watch Helena’s old table by the dance floor. Once, her roommates came in, Cass being the leader of the pack. I left before they could see me.
My exercise regimen borders on insanity. Keyon flew in from Vegas for a promo gig last weekend. I saw him hover around my cage at the gym but I didn’t think much of it until Jaden told me Keyon was impressed.
I’m not gonna lie. I’m blown away that Keyon Arias is impressed with me, but it doesn’t change the amount of energy I put into my preps. I’m lucky enough to have the most supportive mother, trainer, gym, and even sponsor. Nothing’s going to keep me from defeating Aat Mung Korn in Sakhet.
I’m at Hooters a lot lately. It’s easy to get my piece of fish, avocado, and spinach there if Allyn or Cass is at work.
Who am I kidding? I get to chat about my girl too. Even now, long after, I think of her as mine. Once she’s back here, all bets are off. Oh I’ll claim her.
It’s funny, I’ve heard the expression “absence makes the heart grow fonder.” I never thought there was something to it. I was already addicted to Helena when she was here, but I’m way worse off now.
Ah I adored her from that first angry flurry of white jogging through the airport without shoes.
I unwrap my fists and toss away the tape. Wriggle my hands, loosening the multitudes of tight muscles before I crack the joints in a backward, folded-hands stretch.
“Coach, I’m outta here,” I call to Dawson. He’s back to see that I’m okay even though it’s past two in the morning. He and I are the only ones in the gym, and suddenly I realize that he left for dinner with his wife only to return an hour later to check on me. He’s been here ever since.
Dawson bobs out a small, solemn nod from the main counter. He tucks away documents. Maybe he’s packing up for the night. Then he walks toward me, wise eyes skimming my face before he folds his arms over his chest and stops in one of those stances every ACW fighter knows well.
This man used to be a long-time feather-weight champion. He knows what we’re going through and what we’re trying to do. Dawson’s authority, the unspoken dominance he executes over every warrior under the ACW roof, is undisputed. He’s someone to rely upon. My muscles loosen with his wordless promise of guidance.
“We’re on that plane in forty-eight hours. Now, what you need is rest. As you know, we usually have plenty of footage we can use to pin down the pros and cons of an opponent. You also know that this has been a different journey.
“You’ve sky-rocketed your mental capacity. You already kill in Muay Thai, and you’re now pro league in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. Over the last two months, you’ve been up against fighters out of your weight-and-reach zone. The only thing you fail at is to allow your body to rest.”
I open my mouth to tell him I can rest after the fight, but he shakes his head, already knowing what I’m about to say.
“I was hoping for a week, but we only have two days to acclimatize there. I’ll let you exercise again then, but tonight is when it stops at home. Understand? I agree with Mrs. Arquette on this.” He raises a hand to prevent me from speaking up. “No more cardio, parking garages, beach runs. No more weights or sparring. For these forty-eight hours you will relax. As your trainer…” He arches his brow daring me to interrupt. I close my mouth. “As your trainer, it’s my duty to stop you when you’re close to destroying instead of building up.”
“I am not about to destroy anything. I haven’t even had a training fight in weeks. That’s how careful I am.”
“You spar hard every day. With Zeke, Jaden, and Marty.”
“Right, but that’s different.”
“You think that because you avoid professional matches, you’re out of the danger zone? You’re not; you’re more at risk of rupturing muscles and breaking bones than ever right now. If you take the stairs a few steps at a time and land awkwardly, you can hurt yourself.”
“Breaking bones. You’re kidding, right?” I chuckle.
“I’m not. You’ve heard of stress fractures, right?”
“Dawson. I am not over-trained.”
“You are very close. Your body needs time now. Let it heal. No more concrete parking garage steps. No more heavy weights. As I said, just no more training.”
I walk toward the exit.
“Forty-eight hours, Arquette,” he says behind me.
I vehemently disagree. I hate that I have no reason to doubt his expertise. My body wants me to go, go, go— and despite its needs, I grit my teeth and follow Dawson’s orders.
VICTOR
Helena.
She was my favorite diversion.
I wish she were here.
Hell, I wish I at least had the opportunity to talk with her. Saturday was the last time we spoke. She’s never there anymore when I try. What does that mean?
I usually give up after buzzing her a few times in a row. Not tonight though. I’m Skyping her ASAP, and I’m not going to give up until she answers. What time is it over there, again? Early morning?
With the phone to my ear, I listen. The ringtone makes me think of spaceships and planets and removed locations like Germany. I rinse off my gear in the backyard. Once I’m done, I’m still redialing as I sink down on Tilak’s grave-marker under the oak tree. I need her now. She’s got to understand that. I don’t know why she doesn’t answer.
“Hello?” she finally says, out of breath, such a beautiful sound.
“Helena,” I whisper, suddenly overwhelmed that she’s there. “Fuck. Let’s switch to video?”
“Okay…” She’s hesitant. I don’t care as long as she complies. I really need to see her.
“I’m still in bed. Let me get dressed and I’ll call you back?” It’s a question, thankfully, so I say no.
“There’s nowhere I’d rather see you than in bed,” I part joke. “Except for right here with me.”
“Victor.” She sounds like she’d rather I hadn’t said that.
“Just switch to screen, baby.”
I switch mine over right away, but she takes a while. Finally, she’s there. She’s not in her bed but in some robe at a vanity.
“Geez, your mirror has a crown on it too?” I ask, because it’s the first thing I see. Her robe and that golden mirror. “It matches you.”
“I don’t sleep with a crown on. No, scratch that—I don’t wear a crown.”
“I beg to differ. Last time I saw you in Germany, you wore one. Oh that’s right. You were about to get married then.�
� I snicker, feeling better now that I have her on the phone with me. The moon is out here in Tampa, the stars are dim but I see a glint here and there from my new position on my back on the lawn. I have to hold the phone above my face for her to see me.
Does she see me? I sure as heck don’t see her.
“You’re funny.”
“I can’t hear you laugh,” I nudge. “So not funny enough. Where’s your pretty face?”
Slowly, Helena comes into view. Perhaps she’s just playful, but I’m too impatient to wait for her whole face to appear. For now, I get a cheekbone, the edges of that pouty mouth I love. But I don’t see her eyes, and I need her expression.
“Are you there? Whatever you’re showing me could be your sister,” I say.
She emits a breath that could be a laugh. I hope it is, because if not she’s sad. I don’t want her sad. “I don’t have a sister.”
“Okay, so your mom’s cheek and mouth. Pretty mother too.”
“Shaddap.”
“Oh now you sound like my girl. Eyes, please. Now.”
That’s a sigh. It’s not a chuckle. I don’t like the sound of that.
“Helena. Come. Into. View.”
Finally, she’s there, hair disheveled and golden, heaped over a shoulder so she can hide behind it.
“Hair back.”
“You’re so freaking bossy, Victor. I thought you liked my hair.” She obeys though, brushing it slightly back. Enough for me to see her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing…”
“The fuck it isn’t. You look like you’ve been crying. What happened? It’s not that douchebag again, right? He hasn’t been bugging you, has he?”
“No…”
“What then? Tell me,” I whip out.
“Victor, really, it’s nothing. I’m just sleepy. And worried about everything here. We need to figure out details, repairs for the castle. My grandma isn’t doing all that well either, so—bah. Just family stuff.”
“Look me straight in the eye and tell me it’s just family stuff.” Like that’s not tough enough. “Make me believe you.”
She lifts her lashes so there is no veil between us. Those watery blues still on mine, and we remain like this for a few seconds. “It’s just family stuff. There. Happy?”
“Not happy when you’re upset. But I believe you.”
“When do you leave for Thailand?” she asks, sinking back in the chair.
“In forty-eight hours. Dawson has laid down the law. I’m banned from training until we’re there. So I missed you.”
“You missed me?” She bites her lip. Her teeth sink deep into the flesh, and it instantly makes me hard.
“Yep. Our kind of workout would have been okay though, I think.”
“No, because Dawson is against that,” she reminds me. “No girls for fighters about to enter the ring.”
“Well, we’ve showed him before, haven’t we?”
“Yeah.” I’m focused on her mouth, which is how I notice her lip quivering as soon as it starts.
“Helena? Stop bullshitting me. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
But she’s crying now. There are tears dribbling down her cheeks and her eyes are so much more watery than they ever are.
“You’re crying over the castle and your grandmother? Not over W.G. the Fifteenth?”
She swallows a giggle over my nickname for her ex.
“Or hey. Maybe you miss me too.” I pucker my mouth and wink at her. It’s such a presumptuous move she rolls her eyes.
“Tell me that you don’t miss me then. Say it straight out. I dare you.”
“Can’t.”
“’Cause you do. The baroness misses her fighter.” I bring the phone closer, slowly, slowly so I know that she’ll see my lips grow until they fill her entire screen. Then I smack out a loud, wet kiss.
“Weirdo,” she laughs. “You’re so strange.”
“I’m about to go to bed, but can you talk later, once I’m up?”
“Probably not. I’m really busy the rest of the day.”
“What are you doing?”
“Lawyers, the student visa application, having people over to look at the latest castle damage, and a lot of other things.”
“I’ll try you anyway. I need my distraction. We can Skypesex.”
“Victor!”
“Yeah, definitely that.”
As we hang up, I consider the next forty-eight hours. What am I supposed to do? I can’t sleep the entire time, and I don’t have any videos of my contender to watch.
It’s going to be grueling.
It was grueling.
I let air sieve out in a hiss through my teeth as I sink into the plane seat. It’s business class from Miami to Thailand with only one layover, all courtesy of Markeston. My team and I, we occupy five seats. The only one lacking is Maiko.
I’ve got Zeke, Jaden, Dawson, and Markeston with me. Zeke and Jaden don’t have any big fights in a few months and are already ordering alcohol. “Great mix, there,” Jaden says to Zeke, who’s taking tentative sips of whiskey and champagne at once.
The stress of the last few days, the overhanging impatience, the what-am-I-supposed-to-do? sensation dissipates now that I’m on my way. It’s why I sleep during most of the flight. Then I do the same during the second flight. In the distance, I hear Dawson berate the guys when they’re loud and in danger of waking me up.
“I don’t think we can accept their offer,” Dawson says to Markeston. “Yes, it’s nice of the crown princess to offer training facilities and sleeping quarters within the palace, but Victor doesn’t need any distractions these last days.”
The two of them politely disagree and consider pros and cons while the bellman removes our luggage and loads it onto the cart. He leads us toward golden elevator doors and waves for us to enter first.
“I understand, but it would be a noble gesture to accept, which would ultimately benefit us. I think we should do it,” Markeston murmurs.
“We might do it the last night before the match if the offer is still on the table.”
No one asks me. I’m glad. My head is not on practical details. All I want is to focus on my game and then, as soon as the hotel shows me the preordered equipment, that’s where I’ll go.
Dawson gets his will; we’re staying at the hotel for now.
“Get on the scale,” he commands as soon as we’re in the gym.
“Holy shit?” I mutter, staring at the numbers between my feet.
“Flights make you retain water. We’ve got twenty-four hours to drain you of it. Ready?”
“Hell yes. Bring it.”
Dawson wants me to relax in my room, but I’ve had it with relaxing. Around me is Thailand, the place where I was born, and it’s stirring shit up in me. It makes me jittery, nervous, and explosive. I want to fight.
Maiko. Maiko-Maiko-Maiko. After the last angiogram, her doctor agreed that she needs to stay clear of air travels, and I’d never jeopardize my mother’s health for my own fleeting sensation of comfort.
I call Jaden, who’s in the room he shares with Zeke. “Want to spar? Go all out?”
“Sure man. I’ll be down there in a half hour.”
“Half hour? No, dude: now. If I meant in a half hour, I’d have called you in a half hour.”
“Fucking whiny today?” he asks me. “See you in thirty.” He hangs up on me, making me growl.
I rake my hand through my hair. Pull the curtains open and stare out over the city. White and grey skyscrapers dominate the horizon while square, utilitarian rooftops await a tier below. A gridlock of city streets meets my gaze further down.
I’m above it all, grazing the sky. I never saw my native country from the top before. No, I was at the bottom, planted on the ground and in the dirt, and now my heart hammers too fast for a grown man.
I call Helena.
Helena doesn’t pick up. It’s one in the afternoon in her little German village, so I’m not
about to give up. She knows where I am. Isn’t she curious?
She picks up on the fifth try, and I sigh with relief. “Ah Helena. I’m in Sakhet.” My voice sounds gravelly. “I miss you.”
“Hey…” My girl has that hesitant sound to her again. I resent it. “How are you?”
“Terrified.” I chuckle, because as I say it, I realize it’s the truth.
“Of the fight? You’ve got a few days though, right?”
“No, not of the fight. Fights never scare me. Hell, nothing fucking scares me.”
“You confuse me, Victor. I thought you said you were terrified?”
I sink down on my haunches in front of the window. Like this, my chin barely tips above the windowsill. The world outside becomes bigger, and the fear in me grows with it.
The A/C kicks in. A sudden waft of chili and cooked shrimp, ground peanut and rice finds me. The scent should bring good memories, but all it does is remind me of street sellers and painfully empty stomachs.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” I begin. “I love fighting. This fight, this contender, doesn’t faze me. It’s the setting. I don’t like it here.”
“Why, baby?”
Yes. Baby. She’s not so distant anymore.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t like it, and you’re terrified…”
She doesn’t get it—I don’t get it. “I don’t fucking know why, okay?” I yell.
My explosion shuts her up for a few seconds, but then she starts to talk again, and it’s in the sweetest, softest pitch. The sound of her voice is what I’d hear when she woke me up in the middle of the night in Tampa. She’d want to cuddle. I’d want more love. She’d give it to me, always, always, she did. Helena.
I miss her more now.
“Have you been to Sakhet before? When you were little?”
“No, but it’s the same damn country where I was born. I feel trapped.”
“Ah yeah.”
“Like I shouldn’t have come. What if I’m stuck here? Like, they revoke my American passport and say, ‘Hey, you’re home now, so good riddance.’”
“American authorities would never do that. And the Thai people don’t even know you.”
“I’d turn into a starving beggar again. A grownup pauper in need of charity to stay alive, someone so low they need to be taken care of by dogs.”