“No, he’s here somewhere. He’s probably out in the shop in the backyard. That’s where I keep finding him.”
“He didn’t go to work? Is he okay?” I knew when Dad didn’t go to work it meant he was having one of his bad days.
She shrugged. “He won’t talk to me about how he’s feeling. I think he’s getting a little tired of me talking to him so he spends all of his time out there, avoiding me.”
“I’m sure he’s not avoiding you Mom. He probably just needs to grieve his own way.”
She nodded and said, “I’m going to fix you something to eat.”
“I don’t mind grabbing something and bringing it back…”
“Nonsense! I have groceries; I can cook for my son. What do you want?”
“Whatever you have is fine,” I told her. I wasn’t really even hungry, but she seemed to need something to do. “If you insist on cooking, I’ll go out back and see Dad until it’s ready…unless you need any help?”
“No, you go on,” she said kissing me on the cheek. “Maybe you can snap him out of his funk.”
I doubted it. I could barely manage my own. I made my way out to the backyard and the little shop my dad built there. He liked to make things out of wood so he’d built the shop when I was in high school. For a few years there I think he was too wrapped up in my crap to find time to work in it. When I finally got my shit together though and he had more time and less stress, he started making some pretty cool stuff. He’d made a welcome sign for the front of the house and some bird feeders that he put in the trees out front. He had built a bookshelf for Emma’s room and I had an end table at my place that he’d made for me.
I could hear the circular saw running when I got close. I looked in the small window to make sure he wasn’t near the door with it before I went in. What I saw nearly made me turn around and leave and keep going. That weight was back on my chest and crushing down even heavier now. He had a wooden sign he’d made for my sister. He showed it to me a few weeks before she died. It was for her dorm room and he’d put her name on it and burned flowers into it. He was planning on giving it to her when she came home for winter break. Now he was cutting it up into little pieces. It looked like he was trying to make mulch out of it as he fed it through the saw over and over again. The worst part was that he was sobbing as he did it. In twenty-two years, until my sister died I‘d never seen him cry. I still wasn’t used to it. I stood there, battling with myself. Did he need me to go in there, or did he want to be left alone? I didn’t have to wonder too long before there was a big crash in the kitchen. I had to go check on Mom. I went running into the house and I found my mother sitting in the floor, surrounded by spaghetti noodles and an upside down pot. There was water all over the floor around her.
“Mom! Are you okay? What happened?” I knelt down to feel the water with my hand and make sure it wasn’t hot. It wasn’t, thank God. She was sobbing again. “Mom?”
She finally looked up at me. Her eyes were so swollen it looked like she could barely see out of them. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t do anything right anymore.”
“Oh Mom,” I sat all the way down in the water on the floor next to her and put my arms around her. We sat there for a really long time while she cried and I decided that no matter how much time passed they were never going to be the same. I felt like I’d lost my sister and my parents.
I spent a few more hours there. I got Mom cleaned up and tucked her into her bed. Then I cleaned up the kitchen and checked on Dad again. He wasn’t crying any longer, but I still didn’t go in. Now he was burning Emma’s name into a new piece of wood. I had no idea what for and I wasn’t going to ask. I went back inside and got out some more spaghetti noodles. I cooked them and made some sauce with what I could find in the pantry. I looked in on Mom. She was asleep. I went out to finally talk to Dad and I found him with his head down on his workbench, asleep as well. I doubted either of them had been getting much sleep at night. I left him alone again and just left a note for them on the chalkboard in the kitchen, letting them know that dinner was ready. I locked the front door on my way out, but I realized that the pain locked in there with them was probably worse than anything that could walk in the door.
I picked up my own dinner on the way home and when I got there, I locked myself in the apartment with my own grief. I ate about two bites but nothing tasted good, so I threw it all away. I found a mindless comedy on HBO and lay down on the couch to watch it. About half an hour into the movie my text message alert went off. I nearly kicked myself in the ass for hoping it was Alexa when I reached for it. It wasn’t. It was Kristie. Surprise.
She must have been in “sane” mode because the text said, “I’m sorry for bothering you. I just want to make sure you’re doing okay. I feel so bad about Emma and can’t stop thinking about how hard it must be on you.”
I guess her sanity brought out the insanity in me because I texted her back: “Thanks, Kristie. I miss her so bad.”
“I know baby,” she texted back. “You shouldn’t be alone. You should let me come over and just hold you.”
As good as that sounded at the moment, I wasn’t quite that insane yet. I tried to avoid answering by saying, “How are you doing?”
“I’m good. I got a new personal trainer though. I was having nothing but problems with Jose. I gained five pounds last week.” I read that and laughed out loud. Poor Jose, she blamed him for everything.
“So who are you going to now?” I asked. I wasn’t sure why I was feeding into this…any of it. I just desperately didn’t want to be alone right now.
“I got a female trainer. Her name is Violet March. Do you know her?”
“Not personally, but I’ve heard good things.”
I heard she was a ball-buster, but that’s what Kristie needed, Someone to stand up to her and not take her crap. She was quite the snob when she wanted to be.
“So how is the fighting going?”
In Kristie language that translated to: Are you still raking in the bucks? Kristie liked the finer things in life. Unfortunately for her she hadn’t found a sugar daddy that she was okay with being seen with in public. So, she settled for me because she thought there was a chance I’d be famous someday.
“Good, I’m winning, a lot,” I texted back. “I have one tomorrow night.”
“Oh yay!” she replied. Then there was a pause between texts for about fifteen minutes. The one that came then said, “Can I go?”
I told myself that at least she was asking now and not just showing up. That was an improvement, right?
“Yeah. How about we have dinner after?”
What the hell? Did I just ask my crazy ex-girlfriend to dinner? I guess I was the one that just said you shouldn’t hold people’s past against them. Everyone can change.
“I’d love to,” she texted back. We made arrangements to meet after the fight. I ended the conversation feeling better. It was something to look forward to…I think.
Chapter Four
Alexa
“Alexa? Can I come in?” My dad was knocking on my bedroom door for the third time that day. I was still in bed. I hardly got out of bed anymore. I was so focused on feeling sorry for myself that I hadn’t thought about what I was doing to him. The poor thing, I was such a mess and he was so worried about me. I felt terrible, but I didn’t know how to shake this unrelenting pain. I don’t even think anyone who hadn’t experienced it would understand that this kind of emotional pain is real, physical pain.
“Yeah Dad, come on in.”
He pushed open the door and stood there for a minute while his eyes adjusted to the dim light. The sun was still out, but I had pulled the drapes so none of it was allowed to filter in. It had begun to piss me off that it dared to still shine while Emma lay in a cold, dark hole in the ground.
“Alexa,” he said as he came towards the bed. “I’ve been thinking a lot about how to help you. Baby you haven’t gotten out of bed for days and you’ve hardly eaten a bite of any
thing. I had a thought I wanted to talk to you about and honey I know you’re probably going to say no, but hear me out…”
“Dad, I’m really okay. I wish that you wouldn’t worry.”
“How am I not supposed to worry? You’re wasting away in here.”
“I’m grieving, Daddy. It’ll get better…I think.”
“Not if you stay in this bed all the time. I think we should take you to see a doctor.”
“A doctor? Daddy, I don’t need to see a doctor. I’m not sick.”
“Maybe you just need something to help you until the grief passes.”
“Something like what?”
“Something for the depression or anxiety or whatever is holding you back from being able to live your life.”
He thought I needed to be put on meds for my depression. “No Dad! I’m not crazy. I’m not taking pills. I can cope with this. I just need time and I need to do it in my own way.”
“I just want what’s best for you, baby. You’re nineteen years old and you’ve made a virtual prisoner of yourself in your room. It’s just not healthy and it can’t keep going on.”
I felt the tears coming again. I tried to swallow them, but lately they had a mind of their own. “I just don’t understand, Daddy. Why her? Why did she leave me?” I dissolved into a torrent of tears. He sat down next to me and gently held me like he used to when I was a little girl. I cried until the front of his shirt was soaked. When I was finally able to stop, I felt exhausted. Who knew that crying took so much out of you? I pulled back and said, “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been acting like such a big baby…”
“Don’t say that and don’t apologize. Nineteen year olds are not supposed to have to see their best friends buried. I’m so sorry about that and I wish that I knew why myself. But you and I were just talking about how full of life she was and how happy she was. Emma wouldn’t want this life for you, baby. She wouldn’t have wanted to be the cause of this.”
He was right. Emma would have kicked my ass right out of bed. But Emma wasn’t here…I could get up, but then what? Now that I told Ian I didn’t want to see him again, there was nobody in my life that truly understood. Dad was trying, bless his heart, but he didn’t really get it. Emma was one of a kind and you had to know her the way we did to understand why we loved her so much. I felt like every day that passed without bringing up her name with someone or talking about a memory, made her that much more gone…if that made any sense. I missed her and if I was being honest, I missed Ian too. I’d been laying here thinking about him a lot. I wondered if I had been too hasty…too judgmental. I did have a habit of that. It was one of a handful of things I could thank by mother for.
“Hey Dad?”
“Yeah honey?”
“Do you think people can change?”
“What do you mean, like their personality?”
“Yeah, or their morals and values. If a person makes decisions that are clouded by personal gain rather than right or wrong or possible consequences, do you think that person is destined…or doomed to repeat the same behaviors over and over?”
“No, absolutely not. It’s human nature to make bad decisions or mistakes. It’s part of growing up for most of us. I did a lot of things when I was younger that I regret. But since you can’t change the past, you have to just move forward and make better decisions as you go along. If I met the guy I was twenty years ago, I wouldn’t be able to stand him.”
It was what I wanted to hear, yet it wasn’t. I felt terrible. He was right. We all make bad decisions. I was as guilty of it as anyone. I wouldn’t want my mistakes held against me. I wouldn’t think it was fair if I’d learned from them and grew from them. Ian was a kid then when he made all of those bad choices. He’s a man now. Those mistakes he made were a long time ago and they probably had a lot to do with shaping who he is. What I needed to get through my fat head was that none of them or all of them put together makes him up completely. It probably says more about his character that he was able to overcome those things and put his life on the right path. “Thanks Daddy,” I told him. “I’ll get in the shower and come out and make dinner here in a bit.”
“I’ve already ordered Chinese Food,” he said, “All your favorites.”
My weight was another source of worry for him. I’d lost close to ten pounds since Emma died. I never seem to have an appetite anymore. “Sounds good,” I told him. “I’ll be out in a bit.” He kissed my forehead and told me he loved me before he left me alone. When he left, I thought about Ian again. He helped me with my grief process so much that I’m sure being without him to talk to was what was wrong with me now. I missed him so much that my chest ached doubly bad. I know that Emma loved her brother and she was proud of him. She used to talk about him all the time. Emma wouldn’t have been that proud if he was still doing things that he wasn’t supposed to. She would have still loved him, but I know she wouldn’t have supported him using any kind of drugs or cheating in any way. If he had changed and I was holding all of that against him…I was the one that was wrong.
I wondered again what Emma would have thought of me and Ian together as I finally pulled my butt up out of the bed. I had to go out there and at least try to eat some of that food or Dad was going to worry himself sick. I looked up and said, “So what about it Emma? What did you think of Ian and I being together, however brief it was?”
I stood up and my phone began to make its little alarm sound. It startled me. I didn’t remember setting an alarm. I reached for it and when I saw the face, I remembered. It was letting me know that Ian had a fight in one day. I had put the dates all in at the last fight I went to so that I wouldn’t miss any. It was a pretty big coincidence that the alarm sounded at the moment I was talking out loud to Emma about Ian. “Was that a sign?” I asked her. Then I realized that if she was here she would have made the sign of an “L” across her forehead and said, “Here’s your sign, goofball.”
I chose to take it as a sign. Maybe only because that’s what I wanted it to be. But I decided to go to the fight. I really wanted to see him, so badly that it was bordering on need.
“Thank you, Emma.” I said aloud to the room again.
Chapter Five
Alexa
I woke up feeling lighter the next day. I’m not sure if it was the Chinese food and conversation with my dad the night before, or the fact that I knew I was going to get to see Ian at the fight tonight. Dad and I talked about some choices for my major. It felt so much better to have something to look forward to. I got out of bed in the morning before Dad went to work like a normal person and fixed him breakfast. He was as happy to see me up as I was to be up and out of bed, maybe even happier.
After Dad left for work, I started cleaning. I took apart the house room by room and even cleaned out closets and drawers. I wiped everything down and washed every piece of dirty laundry. By the time I was done the whole place smelled fresh and was shining. I felt as renewed as the place looked.
Before the fight I took a long, hot shower. I did some of my best thinking in the shower and while I was in there I decided that although I was going to the fight and I was excited to see Ian, I knew that it wouldn’t be the time or place to ambush him with my apology and the fact that I was really hoping we could try again. I would call him later, in a few days and we could talk about all of that then.
I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and for the first time in almost a week, I left the house. Somehow the air smelled sweeter, maybe since I hadn’t smelled it for so long. I drove to the fight and got in line for my ticket. Watching the fights was not just about seeing Ian. I loved the atmosphere. There was electricity to it; everyone was so alive and full of their own adrenaline that it was like an energy drink for me. I sat near the back again next to an older couple. They were really cute. He was dressed in a suit and a fedora and she was wearing a dress that looked like she’d had it since the 1950’s but it was adorable on her. While we waited for the revelries to begin, the old man said, “Why is such
a pretty young girl here alone…if you don’t mind me asking?”
“One of the fighters is a friend of mine,” I said. At least I hoped that Ian and I could still be friends.
“Which one?” he asked.
“Ian.”
“Oh, we’re here to see the other one. I don’t know either of them, but my son said I should put my money on Wreckin’ Ralph.”
“I hope that was wise,” I said. “I don’t know this Ralph character, but Ian’s pretty darned good.”
“How’s his boxing game?”
“The best,” I said, like I knew anything about it. “He’s super-fast, so he’s great on his feet.”
“Hmm, then I should hope that Ralph takes him down to the floor.”
I laughed and he did too and then he said, “My name is Buster. I was known as Buster Bruiser in my day, and this is my wife, Rose.”
“You were a fighter?”
“He was one of the best,” his wife said. Buster was smiling from ear to ear.
“I was the welter-weight champion two years running in ’52 and ’53.”
“Wow, awesome! Well, I’m pleased to meet you both. I do hope that your Ralph loses, but maybe if you don’t mind you could explain some of the moves for me? I don’t really understand a lot of it yet.”
“Okay. I just hope you don’t mind a little cussing. Rose says that I have a potty mouth.”
“That he does,” she said.
The announcer interrupted us then. He announced Wreckin’ Ralph first. The guy that jogged down the aisle was big. Height-wise he was probably the same as Ian, but his shoulders looked like they were four feet across. His nose was crooked like it had been broken a few times and I think part of his ear must have been torn off and sewed back on…crooked, at some point. Now I hated the thought of Ian beating him. The poor guy definitely didn’t have looks in his corner and this sport could only make that worse.
Next we heard, “Ian the “Iceman” Michaels!” I clapped and whistled and then watched as he came down toward the octagon. He was wearing dark blue shorts. His eyes looked really blue tonight. Just the sight of him made my heart flutter. Once the preliminaries were taken care of, the bell rang and the two men faced off in the center of the octagon.
Dirty Maverick (The Maxwell Family) Page 36