Short story by Michael Shapland
Caleb
‘What would Mummy or Daddy think?’
‘I’m not their blood. It’s different.’
Dan’s office was smothered with posters of brains and nervous systems and that. The brains were bulging and ugly, like beat-up faces.
‘You don’t recognise the reality of Moyamoya,’ said Dan.
‘Well, it sounds funny,’ I said. ‘I know it means the arteries in my brain are growing closed.’ I cleared my throat. ‘The way I see it is this. I’m not a brain surgeon like you, but common sense tells me I’ve not got much time to live. You’re giving me optimistic forecasts. I’ve done my research, too.’
‘What’s that? WebMD?’
‘The private practice in my head,’ I said, tapping my skull. ‘How would you manage, bro, if someone said you couldn’t work here?’
‘I’d live in the mountains and be happy,’ said Dan.
We shared an awkward silence.
‘You’re not stupid, Caleb. You know the risks I’m running by not stopping your training,’ Dan said, his voice quiet and grave.
‘Nah, the point is this: you ever seen me with bruises after sparring? It’s three years I’ve been boxing.’
Dan took off his glasses and stared into my soul, spiteful and direct like I’d never seen.
‘No, I’ve not seen you with bruises. You’re just that damn good. But I will tell you what I did see. Let’s call it an “unhealthy relationship”. You’ll risk dying in York Hall March 28th because boxing’s your love. I won’t take boxing from you. I’d kill you if I did. But know this, brother: I’ll be watching you in a month, weak, overpriced lager in my hands, and I’ll be seeing you dead on the canvas if you mess up. Oh, and don’t ever refer to our parents as not being “your blood”. They’ll be by your side, wiping “your blood” off your forehead as soon as you fall.’
I gave my brother a stupid, bashful grin.
‘So what you’re saying is, if I die fighting, you’ll kill me.’
‘Precisely.’
I began sparring when I arrived at East London Lions Boxing. I walked into Coach’s office. Coach Ari was a big guy. If his eating was right, he would’ve made it pro as a cruiserweight. He’d piece you up, then gas out before you could admire his talent.
He had talent, let me tell you.
Coach looked unusually angry as I stepped into his office. His beard was sweaty and dishevelled. It was the first time I’d ever seen him in that state.
‘Hamza’s pulled out of your fight,’ he said, snatching my fiver from my outstretched hand. ‘His dog died of food poisoning.’
‘Hamza’s scared of me,’ I said.
The reality sunk in. I hit the wall, knuckles cracking on plaster. The liquid from Coach’s mug flew out, almost hitting his 2000s-era desktop. It didn’t look like coffee. Coach pushed me back.
‘Are you my new opponent?’ I said, my head tightening up as I rebalanced.
I knew what the pain was now.
Coach shouted at two late juniors to get a move on. He sat back down, his girth stretching his armrests to breaking point.
‘You’re in luck, Caleb. I found your replacement half-an-hour ago.’ Coach shot me a sinister look. ‘He was teaching my girlfriend some boxing moves in the back of his Bentley.’
‘How kind of him.’
‘You won’t breathe a word of this,’ Coach said, biting his lip. ‘It’s sad. Delilah used to help me set up fights. She was good at that. You never know: maybe she cheated on me just to set up this great fight.’
‘The world works in mysterious ways, Coach,’ I said, ‘but look, why can’t it be you? This fight’s gotta be at cruiserweight. That’s only ten kilos you’d lose. That’s revenge and then some.’
‘That’s twenty-three,’ Coach said, his hands shaking as he repositioned his girth, ‘Twenty-three kilos. Can you imagine it? Your girl, f*****g one of your fighters.’ My headache got worse.
‘Delilah’s out the club,’ I muttered. It was more a statement than a question. Coach grunted.
‘What about Isaac?’, I said.
An icy silence passed between us. Coach lifted my five-pound note in front of me.
‘I trust you, Caleb, so that must mean that you know as much as me. I was stupid. You know what it is? This pointless piece of paper. That’s my weakness. The truth is Isaac’s been paying me privately. We have sessions in secret. I tell you guys I don’t have favourites. Well, I hate him, but he has to be my favourite. His money talks, and it’s f*****g loud.’
Coach looked at me the way Dan had done before he ranted all moral about death and that. Unlike Dan, though, Coach’s voice started to slur. It was sad.
‘Whaddya think it takes to be great, Caleb?’
‘In boxing?’
‘No, in ball-et.’
‘I’d say it’s about doing what you love, till the end.’
‘No. Any prick can die. Look out tha’ door. See ma’ boys? Those look like humans to you? Nah. We’re all animals. You think I was gonna feed you Hamzas until you got fat and happy? You’d be still lookin’ out for lions in Savannah.’ Coach eyed the bottom of his mug then put it down. ‘You fight a lion, Caleb, an’ you get five years’ experience in five minutes. That’s why I named my club— you get th’ idea. When d’you start boxing?’
‘Nineteen.’
There were two juniors loitering by the door. Both had finished up with sparring. Their noses were smeared with blood: mixed with that sweat and grime your headguard deposits after a hard sesh.
I was so faint I had to prop myself up against the door. You don’t feel that knockout coming, you just wake up. But no man was knocking me out now.
See kids Caleb fourteen you’re five years too late five years’ experience five minutes. Fight lions, you’ll live long.
Ari’s last speech stays with me, hazy as it was. I asked him to go over it again in my hospital bed, but he’d forgotten it. The version I gave you is closest to the truth.
I was 12 and 0 going into that Isaac fight. I killed a lion, though all my opponents were rabbits. You’ve gotta kill something. You can’t just be happy with rabbits.
Ari
Richmond Cemetery is too far from Leytonstone. It’s like it’s in another city. For me, anything out of East is foreign territory. Caleb felt the same. I’m sure he would’ve preferred being buried in East, but funerals are more about the living than the dead.
I looked across my squad – all present except two – and saw Dan standing alone, not talking to anyone, not even his parents. He saw me and walked across that divide that separated boxing club from family. I wiped the sweat off my brow.
‘You’re looking slim,’ I said.
‘I don’t get time to eat in my job,’ said Dan, meeting my hand with a firm grip. He looked at the sun-soaked ground where Caleb had been buried. ‘You saved my skin, Ari,’ he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. ‘The official line is that when my brother met you last at the Lions’, it was for a goodbye. He didn’t plan to box then.’ Dan inspected me, as if I didn’t understand what he was on about. His eyes were wet. ‘Would you have blocked him, Ari, if you knew everything and his fight was that night?’
‘I wouldn’t be doing my job.’
‘What if you were me?’
I shook my head and smiled sadly. A long, black car parked at the cemetery’s edge.
‘Caleb had a lot of friends,’ Dan said, not noticing my agitation. He paused to light a cigarette. He offered me one too, out of his packet, and I accepted. ‘I want you to fulfil a dying man’s wish,’ he continued, tar licking both our throats.
‘What is it?’
‘Caleb wanted you to fight Hamza, his opponent, for his boxing event. I imagine you know this— Hamza.’
‘He pulled out of the fight,’ I said, ‘his mother got sick.’
‘Who is it, then?’
A honey-smooth voice butted in. I took a long drag, and let the old boys do their talking.
‘Daniel darling, my condolences. I’m sorry for being late. Daddy’s awfully ill. I’ve been at Grosvenor helping him. Only a short time ago did our nurse deign to fit us into her schedule. Family matters for Maria too. Nothing grave, mind you; we’re terribly angry with her. We’ll have to enlist your services soon; a friendly touch is always best.’
Dan and Isaac talked a long time. They’d graduated from Oxford the same year, which made their connection something I couldn’t understand. They eyed me. Everything was hazy. Sweat streamed down my back.
‘Ari? Are you alright?’
‘The heat’s getting to me,’ I managed to say more clearly this time, because I was sure I said it already. I took off my soaked jacket. The sun swarmed me.
‘I was asking you, Ari darling, if you wouldn’t mind meeting me at the Lions’ den this evening. I’ll pay you the usual overtime fee,’ said Isaac. I nodded and looked around for a bench, sweat congealing in the contours of my back. As I left, Isaac said something to Dan that made my hands curl into fists.
‘That’s what I like about Ari. Call him up whenever you want, and he’ll be there for you. He’s an entrepreneur, Daniel. Our country needs more people like that.’
***
‘You shouldn’t have organised our session in front of Daniel. That was inconsiderate.’ Isaac ignored me and dented the heavy bag. ‘And use your range. You’re up too close,’ I said. He stepped back.
‘Jab-jab-right, shovel-hook, right,’ I said. Isaac executed perfectly, his hits shuddering through the metal support on the ceiling. He stopped, then walked up to me.
‘I want to clarify something, Ari. Nothing happened between Delilah and me. I was off my head. That was my last big blowout. I realised what I was doing in the car; I sobered up, shall we say. So, I let Delilah go. God’s word.’
‘I believe you. Get back to work,’ I said, blinking. The lights in my club were unusually bright. Like in a hospital. Wind beat against the windows. If the forecasted floods did happen, I’d have to check out my insurance. The old girl was falling apart.
Isaac executed another set of perfect punches. He moved like a featherweight. There was no denying his talent.
‘I have some important news, Ari. My darling, ill father has helped me with my dreams. I do hope it’s not a dying wish. Daddy has got me on the prelims for Jacob v. Ryder. I need the medical clearance you’ve got in your office. The deadline is tomorrow.’ Isaac walked over to the wall to unplug his phone. ‘Here’s the confirmation email,’ he said, passing the phone to me. I read it.
‘You would have kept this from me, and kept Caleb as a back-up,’ I said, more a statement than a question. Isaac shrugged.
‘I liked the chap. I could have sorted him a big-time fight down the road.’
‘You’re not getting cleared,’ I said, passing him his phone. ‘We’re keeping the Fight Night bout alive. I’m your matchup.’
Isaac flicked through his phone. Nothing I said registered. He was texting someone. He put his phone away, then went up to me.
‘What I really want, Ari, is something more valuable than the medical clearance. I want to turn professional, and you’ll be the head of my team. You’ll leave your Lions behind Ari, but you can pick your own team for me. You’ll have total autonomy.’ Isaac put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Do you know who motivated me to do it, Ari? Caleb. The tough bastard told me to do what I love when I visited him. All from his hospital bed on God knows how much morphine. Can you imagine? He saw through me in a heartbeat.”
‘I promised Caleb I’d fight you.’
‘You promised Daniel. Let’s admit it, Ari: he’s a bit unhinged. All that business of risking his brother’s life.’
I bit my lip and slowed my breathing down. The confusion came. Your thoughts get murky. You feel sick— not from drinking, head trauma, any of that. The worst murkiness comes when a person makes your mind strange and weak.
‘Forty.’
‘Forty what?’
‘Thousand,’ I said.
‘Per year? Let’s say thirty-five.’
The wind pressed its gloves against the glass. The storm had started.
‘Forty-one. My price is going up,’ I said.
I closed the windows to stop the rain falling in. The glass was old and thin.
‘Thirty-six. Stop mucking about.’
‘Thirty-eight thousand,’ I said, clenching my jaw.
‘Thirty-seven thousand. I’ll go to another trainer if I hear anything more.’ Isaac stretched out his hand. I shook it. He smiled.
‘I’ve not accepted yet,’ I murmured. As I spoke, I looked away from Isaac. ‘We’re going to the ring. You’ve got a minute to knock me out. Use the right hand I’ve been teaching you. I’ll be wearing a mouthguard, but my head will be free. If I touch the canvas, I’m all yours.’
‘Peculiar, but alright.’
He should have said “pathetic”.
We walked to the other side of my club, Isaac strutting, me feeling my bones creak under my weight. We slipped through the ropes. Isaac put his gloves on. I put my mouthpiece in. My hand shook so hard when I put the stopwatch on that I dropped my phone. Its screen cracked into a spider’s web.
‘Oh dear, Coach! I’ll reimburse you for that.’
Right hand love ninety pounds big man won’t swing back fly hits and quick learning.
Gloves punctured orbital face leant ‘gainst edge of ring blood pouring out nose eyes cheek loud ringing Isaac blood dripping gloves.
‘What’s got into you tonight, darling? You’re very different.’
Is that problem gloves shaking hands.
Out ring tissue for me pass it over wipe nose with long blond hair looked like Delilah. Uber Coach tired clean lock up give keys start soon gym built for you Isaac helped me out ring body shaking recovering. Stumbled double doors exit club in windrain this is it biting cold up giver home final look you started this.
Storm and insurance.
Isaac? Did you get me down?
Body better love thanks.
Awake end of journey Mile End. Pounding. Before I get out car dig out phone. Flip through contacts deleted Delilah’s number. Clicked video Hamza sent. Lights shining in black car in black night. Delilah na—. Is—.
Want to delete but finger hovers over button.
This is how your dream dies. This is how you wake up.
