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“I remember one match of his that me and your mother went to. Marty was obliterating this guy. It was like I was looking at him thirty years ago when I saw you.”
Danielle walks further into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. “Did Mom like going to his matches?”
Dad lifts the pot of chili, bringing it over to the table to set on the trivet in the center. “Well, it was her brother. That’s what you do for family. You show up for them.” He ladles out a portion into his bowl and sits down, then picks up his spoon. “Enough about that, though. When are you getting your pro license?”
I release a breath, sitting across from him at the table. “I’ll talk to Uncle Marty.”
Danielle pats me on the shoulder as she passes by. “So, my roommate got a new dog,” she says, thankfully changing the subject. “Dad, you’d love him. He’s a lab mix and the sweetest thing.”
I let their conversation wash over me, answering direct questions but otherwise staying silent, mulling over Dad’s routine demands. What started as a way for me to stay close to Mom’s brother after her death has morphed into something entirely different. Boxing was supposed to be a fun thing I learned from my uncle, not become my whole life.
When Dad discovered I had natural talent at it, that I was better than anyone had expected, it’s the only thing he wanted me to focus on, to the exclusion of all else. Why bother doing well in school when I was going to be a pro fighter, anyway?
It’s not that I don’t love boxing, I just don’t want it to be… everything. To be decided for me, no question about it. When do I get a say?
Tessa’s coming over tomorrow to talk about going to college. What am I supposed to say to her? Nod along politely and throw away anything she gives me later?
Or maybe take her seriously, imagining a different future…
“Austin.”
I jerk my head up, finding them both looking at me expectantly. I need to stop daydreaming about things that’ll never happen.
No matter how appealing they may be.
* * *
I look over the apartment for the hundredth time, not that anything has changed since I last looked it over, and sit down on the couch, knowing there’s nothing else to do. The place is clean.
I stand after another few seconds, pacing the length of the room, unsure what to do with this restlessness coursing through me. It was the same on Friday night before going to Tessa’s, like my skin is too small for my body, like there’s not enough space to function.
Like my heart is beating faster than it should in anticipation for… I’m not sure what.
I’m just showing her some more self-defense moves. Listening to her tell me about what it takes to get into college. That’s all it is.
At the knock at the door, I’m practically sprinting there, opening it way too fast to seem normal, immediately cursing myself for the unintentional eagerness.
She blinks up at me, startled, then smiles, the sprinkling of freckles over the bridge of her nose more pronounced in the fluorescent light of the outdoor hallway’s lamp.
My breath hitches for a moment staring at her, then I remember myself, opening the door wider to let her in. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
She’s clutching a folder to her chest, along with something else that makes a shaking sound with each step as she passes by.
“I got some cat treats for Boots. Is that okay? Is she allowed to have them?”
“Yeah, sure.” I take them from her, looking at the smiling cat on the front of the package. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. She’s so sweet.”
I shake the bag and Boots comes running out of my bedroom, curious as to what I have.
Ripping it open, I hand it back to Tessa. “You should be the one to give them to her.”
She pours a few out in her palm and places them on the ground, petting Boots as the cat sniffs at them and chows down.
“You didn’t want to practice self-defense at all, did you? It was a cover to see her.”
