A Life Worth Fighting (4 page)

Gus inserts my mouthpiece and I nod at his instructions.

I hear the announcer say, “This is Bobby ‘The Rock’ Grether’s first fight in two years. He is fighting to prove that he still belongs in boxing. If he wins, he will show everyone that he still can fight.”

Round one goes by with lots of punches being thrown by both of us. I draw blood first and I pat myself on the back.

Later, it’s round four and I was hoping this would have been over with by now. I reprimand myself for not training more this week and for eating too many cinnamon buns.
If I win this fight, I’m swearing off Jo’s famous cinnamon buns until my retirement from boxing.
Training for boxing is important, but so is experience, and I haven’t fought for two years. My opponent looks even more tired than I do. I feel the warmth on my cheek and the salty
taste of blood in my mouth. Blood.
Great.
The bell rings and we each go to our corners for our one-minute break. Gus stops the bleeding, Dad gives me water to rinse the blood from my mouth and Tim is on the phone.
Who is Tim talking to on the phone?
I watch him, half pissed off. Who in God’s name is he talking to? He hangs up and the bell rings again.

At the end of round five, I have to admit that I am in pretty bad shape. My right eye is swollen shut and I am exhausted. The three minutes in the ring felt like three days. I take my seat and like before Gus tends to my injuries, Dad gives me water to rinse the blood out of my mouth and I think I see Tim holding my iPod.
He inserts my earbuds in my ear and “The Eye of the Tiger” blasts through the buds. I suddenly feel like Rocky Balboa. My exhaustion is replaced with a newfound energy and a desire to win. My mouthpiece is re-inserted, the bell rings, and the earbuds are the last things they remove.

It’s round six and I’m done playing. I hit him and he stumbles. It’s not good enough, so I hit him again and again and again. The song plays in my mind and I have never been so grateful to Tim in my whole life. I hit my opponent once more with all the energy I have and watch as he falls to the ground in what seems to be slow motion. He falls into the ropes and tries to grab onto them before he falls to the mat. He moves, and blinks, but he isn’t able to get up. On the count of 10, I raise my own arm. The crowd stands and holds up signs. Some are with my name and some have my name and picture. I nod into the audience before Gus, Dad, and Tim join me in the ring.

I hear the announcer say, “This was Bobby ‘The Rock’ Grether’s first fight in two years. He won convincingly against a worthy opponent, and he has proven that he is ready to move up to the next level.”

Leah

I
watch as Robert is announced the winner and he looks into the camera and says, “Leah, this is for you. I love you, Sweets.”

I am crying and my lips tremble. He looks terrible. His right eye is completely swollen shut and he has cuts on his face. Mom hugs me to try to console me. As soon as he is escorted out of the ring, I call him; no answer. I keep calling until someone answers. I know he is being checked out by his team and the doctors, but I need to talk to him. He finally answers a little too cheerfully, “Hey, Sweets.”

“Ace, what in the hell was that?” I don’t try to sugarcoat my anger.

“That was a fight.”

“Why were you in there playing? No, never mind. Get better, get home and if you fight like that again, you’ll be cleaning gutters and toilets every day at the shop. Do you hear me, Ace?” I think I hear him chuckling in the phone.

“All right, Sweets.”

“Don’t scare me like that again.” I try to control my tone. I want to cry, but I don’t want him to hear me.

“I’m sorry.”

“Robert, are you all right?”

“I am; the doctor’s here now.”

“Good, I love you. Call me when you get settled in your room for the night.”

“I will. I love you, too.”

I hang up and the tears fall. “Are you all right, Leah?” Robert’s mom asks.

“I am. I’m mad and scared and angry and relieved…”

My mother interrupts, “I know, Honey. All those emotions are normal. That was some fight.”

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this. I don’t think I can stand back and keep watching him fight.”

“Oh, Leah. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You are one of the strongest women I know.”

“I don’t know about that, but thank you.”

My phone rings — it’s Robert. I let his mom talk first. When she’s done she hands me the phone. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us.”

“Thank you. I love you, both.”

I talk to Robert and he tells me that he has no fractures and no permanent injuries. He does inform me his eye is badly swollen and he has six stitches above his right eye. I know he is trying to prepare me for his return home. My anger has passed and now all I feel is relief. My Robert is going to be fine. I vow that if Robert continues to fight, then he’s going to start training as a warrior. He worries about me and therefore he sometimes does not concentrate on his own training.

Robert

After the fight, we decide to dine at a steakhouse. “Table for three,” my father says as the hostess greets him.

“Follow me.” She smiles and leads us to a round table in the center of the room. The table is covered with a white linen cloth. A red rose and white salt and pepper shakers sit in the center of the table. A small candle is burning. Gus leans forward and blows out the candle. Dad and I laugh.

“A little too romantic?” I ask.

“For a table with three guys, just a little bit,” Gus says. The room is large and elegant. Red carpet, white linen tables, and red velvet cloth-covered chairs. The walls are adorned with large framed photographs of the city.
Leah would like it here.
I browse the menu and decide to stick with my
no-bad-carb meal — veggie carbs are good carbs, and starch carbs are bad carbs.
An 8oz. filet, a double order of snow peas, and a double salad with oil and vinegar dressing. Dad and Gus order double-stuffed baked potatoes as I knew they would. There is a saying, ‘Practice what you preach,’ yet they never do. They preach to me to eat healthy foods and stay away from bread and potatoes, but look at them.

During the dinner, a few people come over to ask me for my autograph. They tell me they were at the fight and thought it would have lasted longer. Six rounds was plenty long enough for me. One guy jokes about what took me so long for a knockout. He also tells me from now on, he’ll be placing his bets on me.

After they leave, I say, “I wish people would wait to ask for autographs until I have eaten.”

“You have it easy,” Gus says. “Bestselling author Stephen King was sitting on a toilet at a restaurant once when someone appeared with a notepad and a pen and asked for his autograph. Stephen gave it to him.”

“That’s when I would have to get rude. Once when Leah and I were dating, a man came up and asked me to autograph a dollar bill. He told me how his wife will always treasure it. After dinner, when I paid the bill, can you imagine my surprise when I got the same dollar bill in my change? I laughed and didn’t expect Leah to ever go out with me again.

“Leah also saw a server wearing an origami ring made out of a dollar bill, and she asked, ‘Are these for sale?’ The server said, ‘No, these are priceless. We have a customer named George, who comes in every Saturday night with his family and makes them exclusively for his waitress. We fight over the table so we can get one of those rings
—
and the big tip that comes with it.’”

After dinner, we do a little site-seeing and I buy Leah a souvenir of Chicago. She loves postcards and key chains, so I buy her both. She is a very simple girl. Before we get home, Leah sends me a text.

Leah:
Good night, Ace.

Robert:
Good night, Sweets. I love you.

Leah:
I love you, too. I am so proud of you.

Robert:
Thank you. Sweet dreams, and I’ll be home around noon.

Leah:
Sweet dreams. I miss you and I’ll see you tomorrow.

I stare on my phone at a picture of Leah kissing Jamie before I place it back in the phone holder attached to my belt. We pull up outside the hotel nearest to the fighting arena and we all say our goodbyes for the night. Still feeling restless after the fight, I decide to take a walk to unwind. The streets are dark with very few street lights. I turn the corner and see a girl stumbling away from a car parked in an alley. The car doesn’t drive off but stays there with the headlights on. I duck into the shadows and watch as the girl stumbles towards me, crying. I reach out and pull her close to me into the shadows. She is holding her right arm, she is bleeding, and she is frightened.

“I won’t hurt you.” Her body shakes, but she doesn’t say anything. “Where are you hurt?” I look at her and she is bleeding profusely from the upper arm. Her arm has a severe laceration about six inches long. She is dressed in a floral sundress and sandals. I tear off the bottom of my tee shirt and make a
pressure dressing for her arm.
When it is tied off, I sit her down next to a tree. I hear two car doors open and close, I say, “I’m going to see what they want. Stay here and be silent; I’ll get you help.”

She reaches for my arm and whispers, “They have a knife.”

I call 911 and ask for assistance and an ambulance, then I say to the girl, “Stay right here until I get back.” I stand and walk in the shadows, further away from the girl towards the direction of the car. The headlights are no longer on. I see the bastards walking in the alley as I pass them in the darkness. Chances are, they are waiting for me to leave. I learned in boxing to “float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.” I’m grateful that I’m light on my feet or they may hear me.

I have learned to fear no evil even while walking in the alley of death because I have worked hard to be the toughest man in the alley. Besides, at times you just know that God is on your side. I walk out of the shadows and into the dimly lit alley.

“You looking for someone?” I ask.

The two guys turn around and one answers, “My wife. Have you seen her?”

“Nah, I’ve been here all night. I haven’t seen your wife.”

They begin to walk closer to me and says, “You’ve been here all night and you didn’t see anyone?”

“I saw someone, but I’m sure she isn’t your wife
.
And if she is your wife, I’m sure that she shouldn’t be.” I begin to slowly walk towards them.

“Where is she?” one of them asks.

“She is with the police,” I lie. I watch as they look around. I square my shoulders and crack my neck side to side.

“With the police, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Another step closer, we’ll be standing nose to nose. They are dressed in leather coats, jeans, and cowboy boots. “She was injured pretty badly. You don’t know who did that to her, do you?”

“No idea,” one of them says as the other one takes a swing at me.
I hit him right in his nose and then I hit the other one in his left eye. He holds his nose and falls to the ground and the other guy comes at me again with a knife. I hit him as hard as I can and watch as he falls to the ground. The knife falls from his hands and I kick it away from him. I keep my eye on it so I know where to retrieve it later. I wait and neither of them stand up or move. When I’m sure neither of them is getting up, I get the knife and walk back and get the girl.

I reach my hand out for hers and say, “Come on, Princess. Help is on its way.”

She takes my hand and stands up. We wait for help to arrive at a distance from the two losers lying on the ground unconscious. I don’t ask her any questions and she doesn’t say anything. When I hear sirens, I reach into my wallet and hand her some money. “Get yourself a room later tonight. You don’t have to take that shit anymore.”

“I… I can’t take your money,” she stammers.

I smile and close her hand with the money in it. “Princess, you don’t have a choice.”

“Thank you.”

I do what is needed when it is needed. Some religious people say that we need to fill our hearts with loving kindness. I did that twice tonight. Once was when I gave the girl the money. The other time was when I filled my heart with loving kindness for all battered women just before I hit the two men who attacked the girl and then me.

The police come and immediately send the girl away in the ambulance before they interview me. I tell them what I saw and that the guys came at me fighting, one of them with a knife. I give them my name and information and watch them handcuff and place both guys in the back of the cruiser. Once the police tell me I can leave, I walk back to the hotel.

I lie in bed and my mind drifts back to when I was a small child. Dad was gone on a business trip and our neighbor, Mrs. Michaels, came over crying. She was bleeding and had red marks all over had happened to Mrs. Michaels. I cracked my bedroom door open and listened. The police came and she told them Mr. Michaels had hurt her. I was so mad, and I decided the next time I saw him, I was going to tell him off. I never did see him again. It was that day that I decided I would always treat women with kindness and respect.