Healing Melody (23 page)

“Where has she been this whole time?”

“Detroit,” answers Layla. “Sounds like things got pretty bad.”

“How is she?” I ask.

I notice a small, sad smile cross my sister’s lips. “She's clean. She’s found God.”

“At least one of us has,” I mutter.
 

Then Layla takes a breath. “I told her I’d get in touch with you, and I’d let you know she's back in town.” Sadness sweeps through my sister’s eyes. She sighs and says softly, “Monique said she can't wait to see Max.”
 

The wind gets knocked out of me. I look at the ground. Monique doesn't know Max has passed away.

Layla places a hand on my shoulder.

“I have to tell her,” I sigh.

Layla nods. “Since I couldn't get a hold of you on your cell phone, I told Monique where you lived. She's probably going to stop by.”

I inhale deeply. Seeing Monique is going to drag up all these feelings, feelings I’ve been trying to bury for so long. But I know I have to face them. Monique may have abandoned her child, but she has a right to know what happened to Max.

“Fuck, this is going to be tough,” I mutter softly.
 

Layla squeezes my shoulder. “You’re built for it, Kade.”

Before Layla leaves, she makes me promise to come by her house for dinner. “Your nephews want to see you.”

“I will,” I reassure her. “After the next fight.”

Layla smiles and before she goes says, “Knock him out, brother.”
 

I don’t have the heart to tell her the truth: I’m throwing the fight.

The warehouse is packed. It’s a full house. Tickets cost three times the normal price. It appears my notoriety as Melody’s escort has made this a must-see fight. I’ve heard there are even some reporters in the audience. Shane must be happy with the turnout. Since the bookies have me winning this fight – and Shane is betting against me – he stands to make a fortune.

I lost my fight against Jose Silva because I was angry and couldn’t control my emotions. Instead of thinking about my next move, my mind was on Max. Right now, standing in this cage, about to square off against a solid fighter named Enrique Rosa from San Diego, I'm still angry. But my anger is focused. This poor dude standing in front of me doesn't know what he's up against.
 

I've had everything taken away from me that I've loved: my son, my gym, and Melody. Now, Shane is asking me to sacrifice the only thing that remains in my life – besides my sister – that I hold dear. I love to fight because there is honesty and truth in the cage. There is nowhere to run, all your illusions are stripped away. In the heat of a fight, and the crushing blow of a moment, you discover what you're made of. Outside the cage, in the bullshit society we've created for ourselves, the truth is sometimes hard to see. But inside the octagon, with a crowd screaming for blood, and the smell of sweat and fear in the air, the truth is facing you, as clear as day. If you're the fastest, the quickest, the smartest, and you don't lose your cool, you'll survive. You'll be the victor.

What Enrique Rosa doesn't know, as he takes a few steps toward me, is that I see the truth staring straight at me. If I throw this fight, I'll lose the one thing I believe in: the honesty of the cage. But not only that, I’d also be letting Max down. It would be as if I had taken my own life after he died. If I throw this fight, I won’t respect myself. And when a man can’t look himself in the mirror, what's the point?
 

Fuck Shane. Fuck money.
 

If he wants to kill me once the fight is over, I’m ready to die. Because the honor of the fight is all I have left to live for. Everything else has been taken from me.

As I take a few steps toward my opponent, one thing is obvious: I'm not losing, not today.

Enrique starts with some jabs to my body and my face. But I take a quick step back and surprise him with a roundhouse kick, throwing him off balance.

The crowd erupts in applause.
 

I lunge forward, hit him with a left hook, a quick jab to the body, then hurt him upstairs. I take a step back and nail him with a strike to the liver.

At that moment, everything goes into slow-motion. It's like I see his moves before they happen. I can react accordingly. I duck or slide out-of-the-way every time he’s about to make impact.
 

After I land a few more blows, Enrique begins to tire out. He's waiting for the round to come to an end so he can catch his breath. I take advantage of the opportunity and knock him with a flying knee. He falls to the ground.

The crowd cheers. I turn and face them. Shane is staring straight at me, and I can tell he’s pissed.

“Finish him!” I hear people shout.

I turn and watch Enrique slowly get up from the ground. He’s got a busted lip and his chin and chest are covered in blood.

I run forward, lunge into the air, and pound him with a superman punch. He falls back to the ground. I unleashed a fury of punches – a clinical ground-and-pound – till I'm able to place him in a submission hold. Then he taps out.

The fight lasts a total of three minutes.

Poor Enrique never stood a chance.

The crowd erupts in thunderous applause and chants my name, “Kade! Kade! Kade!” But all I’m focused on is Shane. He’s staring at me with disgust. He turns his back to me and walks out of the warehouse, Vince and Leo following close behind.

I may have won this fight, but in all likelihood I'm a dead man.

By refusing to throw the fight, I've undermined Shane. After all, there's one thing Shane values above all else: money. Even though I saved his life when we were kids, I think in Shane’s mind that debt was wiped clean when he paid for Max’s medical bills.

So now I’m waiting… waiting for the knock at my door, waiting for Shane and his two henchmen to drag me away and put a bullet in me. I wonder if I’ll see my boy, Max, in heaven… if that’s where I go.
 

When you're waiting for your death, it gives you time to reflect on your life. And when I look at the sum total of my existence, I'm filled with regret. I could have done better – as a father, and definitely as a person. That's why I got so angry when things with Melody ended. When I was with her, I felt like I was being a better version of ‘me’. I was improving her life by being in it. So when she cut the cord and ended our relationship, I felt cast adrift.
 

I’ve been floating at sea ever since.

The knock finally comes. I sit up in bed and take a deep breath. I slide open the drawer of my nightstand and stare at my gun. After Max's death, I’ve put the muzzle of that gun in my mouth several times, struggling to pull the trigger. Now, I have a decision to make. Do I put up a fight against Shane? Or just take what’s coming my way?
 

I decide to leave the gun in the drawer and slide it shut.
 

There’s another knock. I slowly rise. My time is finally up. I take another deep breath and answer the door. My eyes widen.
 

It’s not Shane standing before me…
 

It’s Monique.
 

I hardly recognize her. She’s dressed in a buttoned-up white blouse and black slacks. Her long dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail. When she sees me, she immediately looks at the ground, nervous. Then she gathers the courage to look up and half-smiles.
 

“Hey Kade,” she says softly.

“Hey,” I whisper in a daze. The last time I saw Monique, she was hollow-eyed, with sunken cheeks. Her voice was on edge, and her shivering body badly in need of a fix. The woman standing before me is a far cry from that memory. Monique looks healthy. Her cheeks are rosy, and her eyes are bright.

“You look great,” I comment.

She nods slowly. “Thank you.” Then she adds sadly, “It's taken me a long time to get myself together.”

We stare at each other in silence. There are a million things I want to say to her, but I don't know where to start.

“How's Max?” she asks.

I look at the ground and sigh. Now, I know exactly where to begin.

“You better come in, Monique. I have something to tell you.”

After the initial shock, Monique’s face turns pale. Tears form in her eyes, and she starts crying in pain. She curls herself into a ball and lies on my bed. I lie next to her and wrap my arms around her trembling body. I try to comfort her as best I can.

“I didn't deserve him,” Monique cries through her tears. “I was such an awful mother, and he was such a good boy. I'm the one who should be dead. Not him. He did nothing wrong. I’m the sinner.”

Monique sobs uncontrollably. I try to soothe her but realize she needs to release all this grief – just like I did when I listened to Melody’s song.

“I tried to find you; but you disappeared,” I tell her.

Monique continues crying. I don't know what to do. I just cradle her in my arms. With some time, she calms down. She wipes her nose and turns to me. Her eyes are puffy and red.

“We didn't deserve him,” she repeats.

I nod. “I know. He was perfect.”

Monique turns away and stares into nothingness.
 

Almost an hour passes as the two of us lie together in sad silence. Eventually, I get up from the bed and enter the bathroom. I splash some water on my face. Then, I step into the kitchen and pour Monique a glass of water. I return to the bed and hand it to her. She takes the glass and slowly sits up. She wipes her eyes and guzzles down the water. She places the empty glass on my nightstand.

She looks at me and asks, “Where’s he buried?”

“With my parents,” I tell her.

She slowly nods.

“I’d like to see him,” she says quietly.

“I’ll drive you.”

We drive most of the way to the cemetery in silence. Monique just stares out the windshield, numb.
 

“He would have been proud of you,” I tell her. “For getting clean. I am.”

Monique looks at me. Her eyes are filled with regret. She sighs. “I never thought it would happen to me, Kade – that I’d become an addict. I just felt so alone, so much pressure. I was raising Max on my own, with no help. You were away in Iraq. I’m not making excuses. I let myself go there. I put myself before my son. Finding the next fix became more important than him. I wasn’t thinking right. But I was just so miserable, Kade. When you came back, you were like a zombie. You didn’t want anything to do with us.”

I nod. “I know. I’m sorry.” It still pains me to remember how I was back then.

Monique sighs again. “We were both fucked up in our own way. That’s why I’m so angry that Max is the one that got taken. It should have been me, or you, not him. Not him.”
 

She’s overwhelmed again and begins to cry.
 

I reach across the car seat and hold her hand.
 

She continues to whimper on the way to the cemetery.
 

After parking the car, I hold Monique's hand as we walk among the tombstones. When we get to Max’s burial spot, she steps forward and kneels down. She kisses Max’s gravestone. I hear her mumble softly, “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I'm so sorry.” She begins to cry again.