Page 79 of My Undead Heart
“Give me a good reason. You owe me that. A fucking explanation why I wasted hundreds of hours training some nobody from the ghetto. Huh?” I’m poking because he’s void of his usual fire and drive. I want to know what has this fighter acting like the quitter I know he’s not.
“Sorry, Coach.” He shakes his head as if that’s enough. He won’t even meet my eyes.
“That’s really all you’re gonna give me, huh? God damn it!” I resist the urge to take a fist to the wall behind him and smash the framed photo that only further mocks my failures. It’s one that captures the weigh-ins for my very first UFC fight. Xavier won’t meet my gaze, even as I get in his face. This isn’t the same hungry kid who walked into my gym not even a year ago. The one willing to do whatever it took, whatever I said, because that’s how bad he wanted to train. That kid wouldn’t have quit. Nothing could keep him from his dreams. “What changed, Xavier? This have something to do with your mom?”
He’s stone cold, his expression impassive as he trains his gaze at the floor. It’s because of that he doesn’t see me grab for his shoulder. The moment he feels my touch he shoves at my chest and jumps back a step.
“Answer me when I’m talking to you,” I bark.
Xavier’s glare digs into mine. Angry. Present.That’sthe fighter I trained. “You aren’t my fucking father. I don’t owe you shit. Don’t put your hands on me again.”
“You’re right. I’m not that worthless piece of crap who walked out on you and your mom. I actually give a damn.”
“This is BS. I’m out.” He moves to turn but my next words catch his step.
“Don’t you walk out that door unless you plan to never come back through it again. Even with the shit you’ve pulled this past week, that’d be a damn shame. You’re fucking talented, Xavier. Too bad you’re willing to throw it all away. How does this help your mom? You going to run drugs like your brother now?” I spit out the last words, so damn disappointed. In him. In me. In life.
Xavier doesn’t turn around and I won’t beg him to stay. I turn back to my desk with the resolve to find another solution to my own problems. I was a fool to place so much weight on one young man.
“Coach?” Xavier’s voice cuts through the empty room, splicing the thick air with all the pain that drips from that one word. I can’t help but lift my gaze to meet his sad eyes. “It’s my mom. We need more money. They’ve stopped her treatment until we can come up with more. Until I can ... Without it? ... She’s as good as six feet under.”
“Xavier, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t, okay? I know you’re sorry. Everyone’s fucking sorry. But that doesn’t help her get better, you know? And chasing some pipe dream to become the next UFC champ doesn’t either. It’s time for me to grow the fuck up. If running with the guys from my block gets her the treatment she needs, then that’s what I’ll do.”
“That what she wants?” Xavier’s mother has been in here countless times. Her pride for her youngest son and the fact he’s chosen a different path than his father and older brother has always been clear to me.
“She doesn’t get a say anymore. We don’t have time.” He blows out a breath.
“So, you’ll give it all up?”
A scowl forms on his face. “I’d do anything for her. You know that.”
“And sitting in a jail cell, what does that do? Can’t pay for treatments or take care of her from there.”
He steps forward, anger and frustration laced into each rigid movement. “What else am I supposed to do, Coach? Tell me. Honest to God, tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do to make this right. To get her better?”
“It’s not a fairytale. There’s no magical spell. It’s blood and sweat. Hard work and time. Fuck, you’ve done all the work. You’ve earned your place in the ring. I know there’s an easier way. But it’s not the right way. It’s not what she wants, and not what you want, either. Give me two weeks. Wait until after the fight. After that, quit if you want. I don’t think you should, but if you have to walk out, don’t do it before the main event. Not after you’ve earned your front row ticket.”
He’s considering my proposal. He wouldn’t still be standing here if he weren’t. I only hope he chooses to stay. To fight.
I give him the time he needs, the seconds passing more painfully than the last thirty seconds of a match. There’s no cheering crowd. No adrenaline surge or cuts and scars. Just a young man at a crossroads of two very different lives.
“Two weeks,” he finally says.
“So, that’s a yes?”
“Yes, Coach. I’m sorry I let you down.”
“Good. No more apologies. We’re moving forward.” Turning my back to him, I squat down and input the code to the safe. Drawing out the grand I have left from my uncle, I know this is the right thing to do. I’ll get out of my apartment tonight and they should return my deposit to cover this. I lock up the safe and turn around, shoving the envelope into Xavier’s hands. “We’re moving forward. Starting now. This should get your mom’s treatments back on track. Now, go get changed and meet me on the floor. We’ve got a week’s worth of practice to make up.”
“Now?” He blinks, still gaping at the envelope in his hands.
“Yes. Now.”
He nods and when he lifts his gaze I know I’ve done the right thing. Consequences be damned. “But don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“That can wait. This takes priority. I believe in you, Xavier. You have what it takes, and you deserve it more than anyone I know. I’m going to do everything in my power to get you ready for that fight. Now, let’s get to it.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
With that he bounds from my office, lightness in his step, determination in his eyes. My own outlook is so much brighter with his decision to fight. I swipe my cell off the table and type out a quick text, hoping Mia understands. I hate canceling our plans, but this is where I need to be.
