Page 110 of Sterling Fight

[Judd]

Mack’s is located outside of Charleston. With a pub-like feel in the front, similar to The Boxer near Knoxville, the place is dimly lit with dark wood accents. Behind a swing door is a functioning boxing circuit that caters to local enthusiasts in the know.

As I’d told Genie, my family was on a need-to-know basis, and I hadn’t wanted them to know.

Mainly, I hadn’t wanted their judgement. Stone might worry it’s not legal. Clay would definitely find reasons I should not participate. Knox might even think I’m imitating our father.

None of these things could be further than the truth.

My rage is internalized, and I manage it in this controlled environment. In the ring is where I release the lingering anger for my father. In the ring is where I release the frustration toward myself for ever being weak. In the ring is where I explode before everything else consumes me.

And tonight, I have Genie by my side. Or at least, holding my hand as we enter Mack’s. We hang out in the pub, not saying much, until it’s almost time for my match. Too quickly, I’m leaving her seated at a table near the ring and disappearing to change into my silky purple shorts with a thick black waistband.

For a moment, I hesitate, knowing Genie is out there among drunken men. She’ll be sitting alone amid men hyped up on adrenaline. The excitement of competition. The thrill of a bet. The rush of alcohol. And she’s doing this for me.

I’m not worth it.

The energy around me is a clash of emotions. I’m thrilled to have Genie present. I’m concerned about her thoughts. I want to impress her. I do not want to disappoint her. I’m worried she’ll still be upset by my fighting, and I wish I could form the words to clearly explain myself. Why I do what I do.

The idea of talking through my emotions in therapy did not appeal to me. Talking in general often wasn’t high on my list of things to do. Boxing felt like a good alternative.

With Genie, it’d been different, though. We talk but we are also good in silence.

Fighting got me out of my head. In the ring, the sweat and exhaustion freed any pent-up anger and cleared my mind for a little while. From week to week, I could manage any memories or doubts, fears or frustrations. The fight took it all out of me.

Then again, Genie does the same thing for me.

Spending time with her is a comfort. And now that she’s officially my girlfriend, hope of making things even more permanent between us has sprung up and that settled some of the anger constantly swirling in my head.

I am not alone with Genie here.

Through the closed door of the locker room, which is more like an old supply closet emptied of everything other than a few hooks on the wall and a safe for personal belongings, I hear the thump-thump-thump of loud bass music.

My heart matches the rhythm.

He makes my heart go thud-thud-thud.

I shake away the whisper of Genie’s limerick, knowing I need to get my head in the ring. Closing my eyes, I visualize the space. I picture my faceless opponent. My movements become clearer.

Left jab. Right hook. Left hook.

But then Genie’s in my head again. Her eyes as she looked up at me after I kissed her at the table. The fear in them. She’s truly scared for me, and deep down, she doesn’t want to see someone hit me. She doesn’t want to see me hurt.

As I’m seated on a folding chair, head bowed and right leg bouncing, I sit upright, roll my shoulders back and hold my head higher.

I won’t be hurt. I am not weak. I am not a coward.

I’ll win tonight and maybe renegotiate my time with Mack. He likes to keep guys that are good on a regular rotation. Keeps the patrons coming back and the crowd involved. Bets are up. Tips run heavy.

For me, it’s not about the money.

Thinking of Genie again, I wonder what it is I’m fighting for, then?

The door swings open and a familiar young voice calls my name. “Sylver. You’re up.” The thumping beat roars louder with the door open. The crowd is raucous with shouts and chants echoing down the narrow hall to this even narrower space.

Typically, the sound seeps into my veins. The noise infuses me with more energy. More clarity.

I’m about to fight.