Knockout

by Tracey Ward

“I don’t care,” Kellen replied easily.

  He was sitting on the edge of the bed still in his hospital gown. All of the tubes and wires had been removed from his body but he still looked frail to me. I’d never tell him that ‘cause I’m not a jerk, but I felt it. His hair was shaved off in one section where they’d drained some fluid and both of his surgeries had taken place. The massive gauze wrap was off his head but there was still a small white bandage covering the bald patch and the scar that would probably always be there. But all of that aside, what made him feel small to me was his actual size. He’d been lying in a bed for weeks without any activity. His bone structure demanded he be a big guy no matter what his muscles said, but I’d never seen him so… diminished. I knew he felt it too. How could he not? He was a gym rat, hooked on the high of going every single day and now he was forced to stay in bed and watch his body fade. I would have found it heartbreaking if he’d let me.

  “Does he have any sweats?” I asked. “Or gym shorts?”

  “There are gym shorts in there,” Kellen told Laney. “Blue ones.”

  “You’re not wearing gym shorts to the airport,” she mumbled, still searching his bag.

  “Why not?” I asked. “It’ll be comfortable. He should wear sandals too so the security shoe bit is easier.”

  “I didn’t pack any,” he said, shaking his head and pointing at Laney. I got it. She wouldn’t let him.

  “There’s a Target near here. I can go grab you a pair for like $2.”

  “Do it. Thanks.”

  “Do not do that,” Laney shouted, finally looking up. “He has loafers. They slip on and off just as easily.”

  I scrunched up my nose at her. “Yeah, but they’re loafers.”

  “Wasn’t I wearing them…” He paused before saying it. Before referencing the accident and both Laney and I physically froze as we waited. “They’re dirty, aren’t they?”

  Laney shook her head, looking at me. Her eyes were pained. “I had them cleaned at the hotel.”

  “Here,” I said, stepping forward and tossing clothes aside. I’d seen something in the bag, something that could fix everything. “You have running shoes. We’ll knot the laces so they stay on but they’re loose enough to slip on and off. Problem solved. Now let’s find him some shorts or he’ll have to board the plane in a hospital gown with his cheeks to the wind and mom will just die.”

  Laney stood firm on the no shorts issue but Kellen demanded his favorite jeans. And by ‘demanded’, I mean he told Laney to quit bitching at him about every little thing and let him get dressed in peace. I took that opportunity to head outside and wait with mom. I wasn’t getting in the middle of that mess.

  When we finally made it into the cab, to the airport and through security, Kellen was wasted. He was breathing unevenly and his body was obviously spent.

  “Jenna, help me find someone who works here,” mom told me. “We need to get him a wheelchair. Or have them come by with one of those golf cart kind of things to take him to the gate.”

  “No, I’m fine,” Kellen said firmly.

  He was absolutely not fine. A thin sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead and he was swaying slightly. But he was also proud. Too proud to get in a golf cart kind of thing or another wheelchair.

  “Baby, you’re exhausted,” Laney cooed, running her hand up and down his arm.

  He put up his hand as though warding her off. She pulled her hand back, her eyes going tight.

  “Just give me a minute, okay? It’s hot in here, that’s all.”

  “You know what you need?” I asked lightly, grinning at him. “Crème glacée.”

  Kellen chuckled, nodding his head. “Qui.”

  “What?” Laney asked.

  I pointed to the Baskin Robbins a little ways down the concourse.

  “Ice cream.”

  “Oh, okay. I’ll go get it for you. What flavor do you want, baby?”

  “Cookie dough,” he said.

  I snorted.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “What’s wrong with cookie dough?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing other than the fact that it’s made with chocolate chip cookie dough.”

  “Right,” he muttered. “Shit.”

  “Language,” mom scolded.

  Kellen sighed, looking at me with that tiger in the zoo gaze.

  “I have to pee,” I said loudly.

  Mom frowned at me.

  “Me too,” Kellen agreed.

  “Okay, well, why don’t Kel and I go pee and Laney, you and mom go get everyone ice cream. Strawberry?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Kellen said. He was already heading toward the restrooms.

  “Okay,” Laney agreed, watching him go. She gave me a hand signal that I think meant ‘watch him’ but it could have been ‘check out his ass’ too so I did both.

  Once we were out of ear and eye shot, I put my hand on his arm.

  “I don’t have to pee.”

  “Me either,” he admitted, glancing over his shoulder. “Thanks, by the way.”

  “No worries. I’ve grown up in it. I know a smothered look when I see it.”

  “Was it obvious?”

  “Not to them. They only want to help.”

  “I know that. But too much help can start to hurt after a while.”

  “Amen to that.” I took his arm and linked mine through it. He was leaning on me slightly as we walked but it looked like I was just a woman happily clinging to her man. “Let’s ditch ‘em. We’ll take the moving sidewalk and get some ground under our feet effort free.”

  “They’ll be mad,” he said, but he didn’t fight me.

  I grinned at him. “You get used to it.”

  Kellen and I rode the moving sidewalk as far as we could. Once off, we took a seat in an empty boarding area and waited for the hysteric text messages to start.

  “I put money on your phone first,” he told me.

  “No way! You’re the invalid. They’ll call you first.”

  “But I’m helpless. I’m ‘baby’,” he said sarcastically, leaning back in his seat and pulling this baseball hat down low over his forehead.

  “She’s always called you that,” I protested.

  “And it’s always bothered me.”

  “Why haven’t you ever said anything?”

  “Never seemed worth the fight.”

  “And it does now?”

  He looked at me with shadowed, half-lidded eyes before saying softly, “A lot of things do now.”

  “Well,” I said lightly, attempting levity under that heavy stare, “good luck to you. Girl’s a brawler.”

  “So am I. I’m a fuckin’ fighter, right?”

  My mouth dropped open with shock. Did he remember? Had he heard me?

  My phone beeped in my hand, pulling my eyes from his face.

  “Called it,” he mumbled lazily.

  “Yeah, you’re a genius.”

  Where the hell are you two?!

  “Probably not anymore.”

  “What?”

  “Me no think good anymore.”

  Follow the moving walkway. We’re at Gate D6.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked distractedly.

  “Didn’t you hear? I probably lost some brain cells. I can’t even do Sudoku anymore. It hurts my thinker.”

  I looked up from my phone, frowning. “You’re having trouble solving puzzles?”

  “And thinking about tough stuff in general. Remember that whole lawyering thing I was planning on doing? The thing I worked my ass off for years to achieve? Probably not gonna be able to do that anymore.”

  “Well, shit. That… that sucks.”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He looked at me with one eye. “Am I sure I’m stupid now?”

  “No, ass. I mean are you sure it’s not temporary? Are you sure it’s the end of your career?”

  He closed his eye again and shrugged. “I wouldn’t reall
y cry if it was.”

  “If it was temporary or the end of your career as a lawyer?”

  “Guess.”

  “Jenna!” mom shouted.

  She and Laney were making a beeline for where we sat. They hadn’t even taken the moving walkway. Mom got within a few feet of us, raised one of the ice cream dishes she was holding and then slammed it into the trash can beside her.

  “Oh, come on,” I groaned. “That’s just wasteful.”

  “You’re unbelievable,” she hissed.

  “Baby, are you okay?” Laney asked Kellen, looking worriedly at his peaceful face. He looked like he was sleeping. I wondered how long that would scare us all. When we would ever look at him napping or sleeping and not think it was happening all over again. “Jenna, is he okay?”

  “He’s fine,” Kellen groaned as he stood up slowly. Laney smiled, handing him his ice cream. He took it and gave her quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. We better get moving to our gate, though. We’re running late.”

  “Did he pee?” mom whispered to me.

  I fought the urge to scowl at her. “Yep. I watched. He made tinkle.”

  “Don’t be disgusting.”

  “You’re the one who asked.”

  “I don’t know what to do with you anymore, Jenna,” she huffed, walking away.

  “Yeah,” I said, pulling up the rear. “I noticed.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “You came back to us at last, huh?” Bryce asked the second I walked into the shop.

  He was slouched against the counter sifting through a magazine. I glanced over to see Sam lounging on one of the black leather sofas in the waiting area.

  “Busy day?”

  Bryce shrugged. “It’s a Tuesday. People don’t want tats on a Tuesday.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It’s too close to Monday. They’re still depressed. You have to get over hump day when everyone is excited for the weekend and feeling crazy. Besides, everyone is broke on a Tuesday.”

  “Blew their wads at the bars over the weekend,” Sam agrees, pulling a chunk of hair in front of her face and braiding it slowly.

  “Exactly that, Mac,” Bryce agreed.

  He’d taken to calling her ‘Mac’ as a nickname. It was short for Macabre. Sam loved it.

  “So I could go home and get some sleep then? I’m jet lagged as hell.”

  Bryce looked up, surprised. “Did you come straight here from the airport?”

  “Yeah. Bags are still in my car. I haven’t even been to my apartment.”

  “Why?” Sam asked, sounding just as surprised as Bryce.

  “I don’t know,” I said defensively, plopping down across from Sam. “I wanted to make sure I still had a job?”

  “Of course you do, now go home,” Bryce commanded.

  “Pass. I’d rather be here.”

  “Why don’t you want to go home?” Sam asked. She’d tossed her hair aside and was watching me closely. I didn’t like the scrutiny. “Don’t you want to be near Kellen?”

  “I don’t know. My apartment is empty and my parent’s place is crowded.”

  “Their house is a fucking mansion,” Bryce spat.

  “Doesn’t mean it can’t fill up fast.”

  “Your mom?” Sam asked, catching on.

  I nodded. “Yeah. We’re pretty sick of each other. It was close quarters for a long time. I need a break.”

  “How’s Kellen?”

  “He’s good,” I said on a sigh, not sure if I believed it. “He’s different.”

  “Different how?”

  “He’s still a little weak. He gets tired easily. It’s making him lash out.”

  Sam frowned. “He’s mean?”

  “No, not exactly. Just short tempered. Irritable. People are coddling him and he hates that. I think he’s also worried about how this is all going to affect him in the long run.”

  “He probably can’t fight anymore,” Bryce commented.

  “He isn’t anyway. Laney asked him to stop. I guess it was a while ago.”

  “And he quit for her?” Sam asked incredulously. “Just like that?”

  “I guess there were tears, but yeah. Just like that.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What ‘hmmm’?”

  “Nothing. That surprises me, that’s all.”

  “It’s a moot point now. Bryce is right, with a head injury like he had, he’s more likely to have another one. Plus his right hand is all jacked up. That’s his dominant hand. He won’t be able to throw a decent punch with it.”

  “Damn,” Bryce said quietly.

  “Yeah.”

  We sat around and bullshit with each other for a while. Eventually a customer wandered in and Bryce went to take care of him with Sam jumping up to get all the paperwork squared away. I leaned back in the deep seat of the sofa I was on and closed my eyes.

  I was almost asleep, listening to the quiet, distant buzz of the machine in the background when my phone vibrated against my hip. I took it out and smiled. It was Kellen.

  How could you leave me like that? They’re making me soup, Jen. Chicken noodle! Like I’m a kid with a cold.

  Beware the thermometer. It’s not going where you think it is.

  You’re heartless. Come back and save me.

  Can’t. I’m at work.

  You’re doing a tat? Send me a pic.

  Not doing a job right now.

  Draw me a tat then.

  What do you want?

  There was a long pause. I assumed he was eating soup and was about to put my phone away when it buzzed again.

  Something for my mom.

  I bit my lip, thinking. I pulled out a stylus from my bag, loaded the basic drawing program on my phone and did a quick sketch. It was small but I went ornate with it. A Celtic cross with the initials MC tucked in the center of the scrollwork. His mom’s name had been Madeline Coulter.

  I felt my heart racing as I loaded it in a text to send to him. I didn’t know if he’d love it or hate it, but it felt incredibly personal creating it for him. I knew things about her not everyone knew. Like the reason she spoke French was because her mom had been full French. Her dad was 100% Irish, but her mom hadn’t spoken a word of English. When her dad started to have big dreams of going to America to be a famous boxer, she’d bailed. She was terrified of coming here and not understanding anything. Of having to rely on Kellen’s grandpa for everything. I could understand that, but what I couldn’t understand was abandoning her daughter. Kellen couldn’t either. He resented his grandmother. His grandfather too. And his missing father.

  Kellen held a lot of grudges, most of which I was the only one who knew about.

  I hit send and started flipping my phone anxiously in my hand. He didn’t keep me waiting long.

  Tomorrow.

  Tomorrow what?

  Tomorrow I’m coming to your shop and you’re doing that tattoo.

  Are you sure? You’ve never gotten a tat before.

  I think it’s about time I did.

  I didn’t know exactly what that meant so I let the conversation die there. I spent the rest of the afternoon working on a finished sketch of the tattoo, making it larger and far more detailed. Bryce took a look over my shoulder at one point and gave me an approving grunt. That was all the encouragement I needed.

  “Do you want to go get a drink?” Sam asked as we left Bryce to close up shop.

  My fatigue was getting to me. I had bleary eyes for the last hour I was there and I could hear my bed in my dark, empty apartment calling my name. I was beginning to think a little solitude and oblivion would do me good.

  “No thanks. I need sleep more than booze.”

  “You’re sure? You don’t want to vent about the last few weeks?”

  “Oh man, you have no idea, but not tonight. Rain check?”

  Sam surprised me when she reached out and hugged me. She pulled me in tightly and squeezed me hard. I wrapped my arms around her as
well, patting her back awkwardly. We weren’t a touchy feely brand of people so the affection caught me completely off guard. I wasn’t sure how to respond to it. When she released me she smiled.

  “I’m glad you’re home. And I’m glad he’s okay.”

  I grinned. “Me too. Thanks, Sam.”

  “We’re getting that drink sometime this week.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Alright. Go home. Sleep.”

  “Goodnight. Drive careful.”

  “Always!” she shouted, disappearing down the dark street.

  By the time I got home that night I was done. I was gone. I collapsed on my bed in my clothes and swore I wasn’t moving until the sun rose the next day.

  It almost happened. If only I had remembered to put my phone to silent again.

  It rang beside my face at about 4 am. I groaned as I reached for it, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

  “What?” I demanded groggily.

  “Wow. Good morning, sunshine.”

  “Dammit, I’m sorry, Alexander,” I said, not really meaning it. I wasn’t sorry. It was four in the morning! “What’s up?”

  “I was getting ready for work, thought I’d call and see how everything was.”

  “You do know there’s a three hour time difference, right?”

  He paused. “You do know you didn’t tell me you’d left New York yet, right?”

  Fuck.

  “Oh man,” I groaned.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, now I really am sorry.”

  “You weren’t before?”

  “No, but now I feel like a total bitch. That was awful. I thought I told you.”

  “No. Last I heard was a text telling me you were making arrangements. I asked when you were leaving and I never got an answer.”

  “It was chaos. I’m sorry.”

  “You can stop saying it, I understand. It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not, but of course you’re being cool about it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re too nice to me, Alexander.”

  He chuckled. “Not possible.”

  “It is,” I said firmly, staring at the ceiling. “It really is.”

  There was a brief silence on the line as he thought about that.

  “Is that why we broke up?” he asked quietly.

  I didn’t answer. I had no idea how. Maybe that was why? But no, not really. It wasn’t that I didn’t want a nice guy. Of course I did. I just didn’t want this guy. And how do you say that without saying there’s something wrong with them? Without saying their eyes are too shallow, too bright. Too earnest and open. How is that a bad thing? And that’s just it. It’s not a bad thing, but it is the wrong thing. At least for me.