Mortal Kombat

Alex and Reed spent the majority of the ninth grade together, alone, video game controllers in hand, in Reed’s damp, unfinished basement. It was cool and quiet there, a respite from their Mississippi junior high school, the waft of fledgling hormones floating amid the relentless heat. By mid-May, the sun was oppressive by school dismissal, and the 20-minute walk to Reed’s modest, single-story home on Vernon Street left the boys with heavy beads of sweat on their foreheads, their backs and shoulders matted from sagging book bags. They would ache for the first chug of tap water, for the relief of standing inches from an electric fan for a few moments, before trodding down the creaky wooden steps into the bowels of the house. To Reed’s mother, the basement served two purposes: storage of Tupperware boxes that were never unpacked after they moved into the house five years ago, and storage of Reed. His mom worked multiple jobs to make ends meet, and an old couch with cigarette burns, a TV and Alex’s hand-me-down gaming console could keep her sweet boy safely entertained, and away from the prying eyes of the disapproving neighbors, until she could arrive with dinner from a drive-through. Even over KFC, the mother and son would hold hands, bow their heads, and thank the Lord for their bounty.

Where Reed’s mom had saved for years to afford a house, even a small two-bedroom without so much as a dishwasher, Alex had four other siblings, each with their own bedroom, their own belongings and clothes, clean and neatly arranged by the housekeeper. Their home was always noisy, brothers and sisters poking fun at the bespectacled bookworm whose sandy hair was too thick to comb. Unlike the bedrooms of his siblings, filled with trophies from sports victories and photo collages of smiling friends, Alex’s room was spartan. His rock collection and geology books were stuffed under his bed, and instead of concert posters, his wall was adorned only with a glossy print of the Periodic Table of Elements. This room was indeed a place sleep and to keep his few treasured items, but it was Reed’s basement which was his sanctuary. 

“I’m tired of Zelda,” Alex said one afternoon, while thumbing through the bin of game cartridges. “I want to play Mortal Kombat.”

“My mom says Mortal Kombat makes Jesus weep,” Reed replied. He had inadvertently purchased the game when he bought the box of cartridges all together at a yard sale with $15 of his own allowance. When his mother found it, she gasped and made the sign of the cross. “Sweet Jesus, turn my baby’s eyes away from such violence and profanity,” she had prayed aloud, shaking her head. As was usually the case, she assumed the guilt alone would deter Reed from the indignity of fist-fighting, even virtually.

“Mortal Kombat makes Jesus weep? Seriously?” Alex pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Do you really think Jesus cares more about you playing Mortal Kombat than he does about the fact that 80% of the world lives in poverty? Or that pollution is destroying the planet? Reed, think logically.”

Reed considered what his only friend was saying, but couldn’t help noticing the glimmer of the small crucifix hanging above the boxes of Reed’s childhood artwork. “OK, fine, maybe Jesus doesn’t care that much about my video game collection. But if my neighbors hear it, they might tell my mom and she’ll make me go to Confession. I hate Confession, Alex,” pleaded Reed as he tugged at the collar of his threadbare polo shirt.

“You don’t even have surround sound! Look, we’ll keep the volume down and you can say a couple of Hail Marys. Deal?” 

With a sigh and a look of “if you get me in trouble I will kill you,” Reed popped the game into the console and handed his friend a controller. They sat on the couch, leaning their elbows against their knees and started to play, Reed choosing Liu Kang and Alex as Johnny Cage.

“Kitana’s hot,” said Alex. 

“I guess,” replied Reed quietly.

“What you mean, ‘I guess’? She’s way hotter than Sonya Blade. And she’s definitely hotter than Beth James,” said Alex.

“Alex. Beth James has the advantage of being an actual, human girl. Have you ever seen her in her volleyball uniform? And her hair always smells like peaches. And her laugh is really cute. And she’s actually pretty cool when you get her away from her little friend pack. She is definitely the hottest of the freshman girls. And she’s hotter than Sonya Blade or Kitana” Reed said, more animatedly than before.

“Do you…do you have a crush on Beth James?” asked Alex. 

“No, why?”

“Well, I mean, why didn’t you ever say anything? I told you when I had a crush on Amanda Michaelson last semester.”

“Maybe I just think she’s nice and pretty. Can’t I think a girl is nice and pretty and not have a crush on her?”

“No,” said Alex flatly. “Like you said, she’s an actual human girl. And apparently you got close enough to know she smells like fruit. And I guess you make her laugh all the time in French class.”

“What’s it to you? Maybe I do have a crush on her,” Reed said. 

The two played in silence for a while longer, before Johnny Cage succumbed to Shao Khan and the flash of Game Over spread across the screen. 

“Why do you like her?” asked Alex.

“Why do you care so much?” asked Reed. 

“She’s a bitch, you know. You shouldn’t waste your time with Beth,” said Alex, rising out of his chair to inspect a very interesting box of flatware. 

“What the hell, man? I can like her if I want to like her. Do I need your approval to like a girl? I think she’s cool, and she goes to my church, and I’m thinking about asking her to the Spring Fling,” announced Reed.

Alex turned, his face caught between confusion and rage. “Shit, man! We said we were going to go to the arcade that night! We planned this weeks ago! Now because some pair of tits pays the slightest bit of attention to you, you’re just gonna bail?”

Reed detested confrontation, but after spending an hour in Liu Kang’s shoes, he was feeling more confident than usual. “Don’t talk about her like that,” he said, standing face to face with his friend, speaking a little louder than his usual mezzo-piano. 

Alex looked Reed in the eye, wanting to cry but full of adolescent pride. Instead, he did the only thing he could think of, and punched Reed’s bony shoulder, a bit harder than he’s meant to. Reed stumbled back, caught by the element of extreme surprise. Alex had never gotten physical with Reed before, and he was going to start now just because he liked a girl? Reed opened his mouth to shout at Alex, his cheeks now flushed with hurt, but instead, balled up his fist and aimed it at the taut center of Alex’s stomach with a sharp jab. Alex doubled over in pain. Both boys now realizing they had no alternative, Alex moved first and knocked Reed across the cheek. Reed yelled, “what the fuck, Alex!” and directed a sloppy uppercut at his opponent’s chin, causing Alex’s glasses to fly off his face. 

Without thinking, Alex had Reed pinned to the floor, trying with all his might to break through the shell Reed had created with his arms over his face. He had never beat anyone up before, even though his siblings had no hesitations about using him as a human punching bag on occasion. He grabbed hold of one of Reed’s fists, then the other, and pressed them into the rough carpet under Reed’s back. Alex’s face was mere inches from Reed’s, his face now hot. Reed knew he had lost the battle, and he unclenched his fists and said, “OK, fine. I surrender.” Alex’s grimace began to soften, unfolding into something more like fear. With trepidation, Alex closed the gap between them, inch by inch, and placed his lips firmly against Reed’s. 

The kiss was awkward, then comfortable, then ecstatic, then dangerous. Without a word, Alex, grabbed his book bag, ran up the steps and let himself out. That evening, when Reed’s mother came home with two bags from Burger King, she gasped when she saw the swelling on his cheekbone and bruising above his eye. He mumbled a vague story about a baseball accident in gym class. His mother kissed his face, handed him a bag of frozen peas, and said a prayer, thanking Jesus he had not been badly injured. 

The next day and the day after, Alex was not at school. In French class, Reed sat next to Beth James, who asked him about his face and seemed charmed when he told her, “You should see the other guy.” He made a mental note to tell Alex about the most recent development in his pursuit of Beth, when he remembered who had sucker-punched him to begin with. 

Reed walked home from school alone that day. He longed for water. He hated Alex. He went to the basement alone, picked up the controller, and resumed as Liu Kang. He played without stopping, hardly even blinking, until he noticed the sun was setting. He went upstairs and opened his French conjugations homework, but in his mind, he was still maneuvering high kicks. The phone rang, and Reed assumed it was his mom, telling him she was heading to Pizza Hut now and would be home in 20 minutes. Instead, the voice on the other end said, “I’m sorry I hit you.”

Reed paused, holding the curled cord in his fingers. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Can we pretend that never happened?” asked Alex.

“Yeah, that would be cool.” 

The next afternoon, Alex had made his way back to Reed’s basement, dabbing his forehead with the hem of his t-shirt after the long walk from school.

“Zelda?” Reed asked.

“Sure.” 

They both reached to remove the game still in the console, recoiling when their hands touched. 

“I….thought Mortal Kombat was….kind of OK,” said Reed, cutting through the silence.

“It’s just a dumb game,” shrugged Alex. 

“Beth James is going to the Spring Fling with Brian Rosen,” said Reed quietly. 

“Oh,” said Alex.

“Maybe we could still go to the arcade? Or…we could just hang out here that night instead?” asked Reed.

“Yeah. Sure. Cool.” 

Without a word, Reed put Zelda back in the case and picked up Mortal Kombat, placing it slowly in the console.