Familiar Hands

He went down to one knee and held on tight to himself to keep from slipping away. There was no noise from the crowd, only his own breathing and the high ringing in his ears. The darkness crept in at the edges of his vision. After two deep breaths he stood up, and in doing so he tasted the metal in his mouth and he knew his nose was broken. The air wasn’t getting through so he blew it out all at once to clear the blockage. It was a sharp pain and the blood spattered onto his chest and shorts, but it did not help his breathing.

Judging him steady, the referee, a short balding man with greyed hair, stepped aside and resumed the match. It was a small-time gig with a small-time crowd, and the referee told himself he would let the fight get good and nasty before he would stop it, to atone for the embarrassment of being seen officiating this irrelevant fight which he felt was beneath him. 

The whelp can get killed for all I care, he thought. 

He had once officiated a fight for the second largest name in boxing before he was a name. It gave him great pride to raise the name’s hand at the end.

The referee having resumed the match, the fighter immediately took a jab and felt it crunch against his already broken nose. He slipped the right hand that followed it, and landed a heavy left to the torso, bringing the opponent’s guard down just so, and instantly he changed levels with a second left hook across the temple. The sweat jumped from the opponent’s head as the punch made impact. He knew it hurt him. Though he was damn good at hiding it.

The opponent was a big-time local slugger, on his way to proving himself a real contender. The man with the broken nose was twenty-eight, a thin southpaw from nowhere important. A nobody. His name was Jack.

“He tagged him!” said Will. “What a move! Did you see it, Evey?” 

“Yes,” she said.

“McLeary won’t let that slide. He’ll take his pound of flesh now.”

“He’s hurt,” Evelyn said softly.

“Not for long,” said Will. “Let him gather himself.”

“Jack is hurt,” she said.

“The other one? Yes, he is bleeding pretty bad. Looks like his nose is broke. And what a break that is! McLeary put hell behind that one!”

Evelyn winced, feeling her own nose with the tips of her fingers.

Will thought nothing of Evelyn’s concern for the no-name fighter. She had finally agreed to come along to the fights with him, and he was very happy she was paying attention. Will was very excited to have her there for something he enjoyed very much, although it was only a simple exhibition bout for Ray “Bud” McLeary, if you could even call it that, to kick the rust off before a tournament run. Will knew it was not supposed to be much of a fight. Still, he was quite happy that Evey was getting into it. And he was glad he’d gotten seats so close to the ring.

McLeary came back hard on the offensive, throwing a right, left, right, unable to land a clean strike, when Jack lunged backward out of his guard and landed an open pull counter across McLeary’s lower jaw. McLeary stumbled forward with the momentum of his advance and fell to his hands and knees. He was down for no more than a half-second, instantly springing back up to his feet. The crowd rose up in unison, delirious with excitement, sounding much larger than it was.

“Let the bastard come to you, goddamnit!” shouted McLeary’s cornerman. McLeary was red with rage. He shoved the referee aside and advanced again, more cautiously this time.

“I don’t believe it!” said Will. “Evey, let me see that playbill. I don’t believe it.”

Evelyn reached under the seat and handed him the fight card. 

“Jack Nightingale,” he read.

Evelyn glanced at Will. It made her feel funny hearing Jack’s name out loud, especially in Will’s voice.

“This guy can fight!” he exclaimed, looking at Evelyn, whose eyes were fixed intently on the ring. He smiled and put his arm around her waist.

The fight lasted only another round. The referee, growing more nervous about disappointing the sponsors, seized the first possible chance to call it in McLeary’s favor by technical knockout. The crowd booed when it was stopped and the referee scowled and turned up his chin. As he raised McLeary’s hand, he thought to himself how it was all very much beneath him. The pay. The gig. The crowd too. He told himself that even McLeary and the sponsors were beneath him. He didn’t need their money. After climbing down from the ring he skulked to the locker room, got changed and left quickly out the back way, pausing before the exit, then shoving the door open and heading for the bar. He would come back for his paycheck in the morning.

Later that night, Will and Evelyn made love at Will’s apartment. Afterward, when Will had fallen asleep, she lay back with the covers pulled up to her lips, and she could not stop thinking about the fight. 

God, I never could learn to like it, she thought to herself. 

She looked over at Will. 

How happy he was that I went along. I wish I hadn’t. He's a nice boy. I wish I could be that happy about something. Like a puppy. He's got enough happiness for the both of us. God, I wish it rubbed off. I do make him so happy. I could never be that happy about him.

The last thought surprised her. She stared up at the ceiling for a while. Her heart quivered in her chest and it left her feeling sad and hollow. She lay still for a long time in the warm bed.

He’s a nice boy, she thought to herself. He doesn’t know much, but he is nice. Being a good lover comes with time. He will only get better at it. Just like I did. I’m sure I was no good at first. Jack was patient though. He taught me how. God, I hated seeing him bleed. Christ, what a terrible thing to watch for fun. I really never could learn to like it.

Rolling onto her side away from Will, she watched the moonlight spill through the bedroom window onto the floor before drifting off to sleep. She dreamt about falling from the old Sycamore tree that had grown out front of her childhood home. In the dream, she hit her nose in the fall and it dripped a shiny crimson onto her clenched fists. She opened them to catch the blood on her palms, but no blood fell, and at first it frightened her as she realized they were no longer her hands. They were familiar, clean and strong. She knew them very well. They wrapped themselves around her and pulled her in close, and she slipped into a deep and dreamless slumber within their warm embrace that would never go cold.