The Strong and The Faithless

The spotlight in the small arena lit us like we were performers, not fighters. Shadows and yellow light made every moment look like either a sepia or noir painting, but I couldn’t enjoy it in that artistic way. The room itself was dusty, dank, dark, and full of rambunctious people. It was the kind of room that gave you the feeling you weren’t supposed to be there.

It was probably about a hundred people that were packed into a small, underground, secret fighting circuit. There were no rounds, no coaches, and no rules except that you fought with honor. You could win however you wanted, but it didn’t mean you wouldn’t be looked down upon. In this case, my staggering opponent was looked at with much regard. I outclassed him in every way, but I couldn’t extinguish his strongest weapon: his heart. I wanted to end the fight quickly, but my style was to see who had the most guts, not go for a one shot knockout.

It was out of my comfort zone, but I put my faith into my right fist. I used my chest as a rubber band to launch a hook from below crashing into his chin. When he fell to the floor it seemed like he would lie there forever unmoving. After what seemed like minutes, he started slamming his fists to the ground to get back up. When he got up, he lost balance and fell back down on his bottom. His legs were bruised and lifeless. He then started punching his own legs to get them to work again. Sweat, saliva and blood flew across the mat as he screamed from the pains of mixed agonies. When he came to his feet, his mouth hung open. I could tell his jaw was broken. Many things in him were broken, and he wouldn’t stop fighting until every part of him was.

“I give up!” The words didn’t feel right having so much more fight left in me. The crowd roared in reaction, but I couldn’t tell if it was an upset or excitement. I went under the ropes and walked away from the ring with mixed feelings. Nobody could tell I was walking due to the darkness and rowdiness, so I had to push through the smell of alcohol, B.O, and cigarettes to get out. I could handle the first two, but I had a special aversion for cigarettes.

I walked up the stairs and out of the side door into the alley. When the afternoon light hit my face, it calmed me slightly so I could deal with my heavy thoughts. I stood still, looking at the sunset for a bit. Conviction, tenacity, resolve, heart: I no longer knew what these words meant. I met somebody who surpassed all of them today. To put that much faith in your fists… was it right? Did he deserve the strength I have more than I? Was he stronger than me? What was strength? They call it noble to put everything on the line, but they say that without knowing what it means. To put your faith into something that could let you down… I hoped that he would never meet somebody that had the intent to kill.

That evening I came back to the arena. It was located in the basement of an abandoned building by the beach. It was a dangerous beach that only the craziest surfers went to, so it wasn’t a popular part of town. The surfers were either pros or bohemian old men that didn’t have any fear. I entered the alley, and knocked on the side door with four knocks, then two knocks, then one. After a mean looking ruffian opened it, I walked down the stairs to the lower floor where another bloodbath was going on in the center of the ring. I realized it looked the same at night as in the afternoon. It was a territory of endless battle.

I was looking for a well-dressed bookie in a black fedora. When I found him, we locked eyes for a moment, and he brushed everybody aside to come over to me. He had two books, a big brown one he used for the large pools of gambling, and a small black book he used for personal bets with friends. He only had one bet going in the latter. He put the brown one back in his coat before he came over.

“What are you doing here?” He looked confused.

“I lost.”

“What?”

“I said I lost.”

“What?”

“Come with me outside.” I motioned for him to follow me and we walked back up the stairs and out onto the beach where you could only hear the soft, ambient sound of the ocean.

“What were you saying in there?”

“I lost.”

“You lost what?”

“I lost the fight yesterday.”

“You lost?”

“Yup.” He was trying to make sense of it while we stood in silence for a moment.

“You don’t look beat up.”

“He didn’t hit me much.” I wasn’t looking at him, but at the sea. “I guess I’ll be retiring.”

“Is that so? Well, you were never a professional.” I looked at him. “It just sounds weird, you’re just a slugger and you’re making it seem like you were some kind of world champion.”

“Well I guess I should just say that I’m just not coming around here anymore.”

“I figured that’d be the case.” He reached into his pocket for a smoke. I glared at him disapprovingly. He gestured his hands the way a guilty man does when he claims innocence and put the cigarette back. “Alright, alright, no smoke.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“You know my bet, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well…”

“Well?”

“Can I?” I made an unclear gesture with my hands.

“Can you what?”

“Have the money?”

“Yeah.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You have it?”

“Yeah.”

“On you?”

“Yeah.” I paused for a second.

“You shouldn’t carry that much extra on you just lying around.”

“I had it ready.”

“Wait, what? Why? How?”

“Just take it. It’s all twenty g’s.” He tossed me a wad of bills, and then took out that small black book to write off his losses. I’d never received money in a wad before. I hid it in my coat. It felt a bit shameful to do that. I guess it was a bit shameful to gamble.

“Thanks.” I began to walk away when I heard him call again.

“Hey Johnny.”

“Yeah?” I stopped.

“Why did you always bet against yourself? You’re twenty and o. Well, twenty and one now. I never asked, but I was curious as to why somebody would bet for them to lose if they knew they were gonna win.”

“Well I didn’t win.”

“You know what I mean.” I turned around and looked pensively at the concrete by my feet.

“I always wanted to make sure I went in there with the right mindset, so I’d always bet against myself. So if I was losing, and I said to myself, ‘at least you’ll win a bit of cash,’ then I’d know I didn’t belong here.” I stood there looking down, like I was confessing some kind of crime.

“Well at least you won a bit of cash.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, take care. I’ll see you ‘round.”

“Sure.” I turned around again, to walk away without saying goodbye, into the dark metropolis full of city lights.

I was halfway across the bridge with my hands deep in my pockets when I felt a hard object poke my back.

“Don’t move. Empty your pockets.” While I was emptying them, the gun moved over to the right a bit. I assumed this meant it was in his right hand. When I pulled out the wad and gave it to him, I waited for the moment of opportunity. “Oh man,” he analyzed the wad. While he was distracted, I turned around and grabbed his right wrist my left and got him in an arm lock. The gun flew out of his hand, and I was behind him now.

He tried to stomp on my foot, but I reacted swiftly and dodged. After some struggling and elbows, he relented and stopped moving. I couldn’t tell, but he was probably eyeing the gun. When I let him go, we both raced for the gun, but I got there first and threw it off the bridge into the ocean. He darted away, but I caught up and launched myself forward, tackling him at the end of the bridge.

My knees pressed on his arms as I spotted the wad in his left hand. I put most of my body weight on my left knee until it fell out of his grasp. I snatched it and got up. It was foolish of me to assume he was out of options and would give up after that because when I got up I turned around let my guard down. He sucker punched me in the back of the head and his forearm slithered underneath my chin. Luckily his forearm was sweaty, so my chin was able to squeeze underneath to prevent me from choking. Unlike me, his feet weren’t swift enough to dodge my stomping.

When I turned around, I realized this was a man of typical resolve, unlike the man I fought the day before. He put his fists up, determined, but not to the same deadly degree of the man the day before. He threw a wild right punch, when I instinctually ducked and cracked his ribs with an explosive left hook. I didn’t mean to hit that hard. He collapsed to the floor.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” I don’t know why I was so worried about this stranger that tried to rob me. Maybe I felt bad for breaking so many bones. “Don’t worry, I’ll call a doctor.”

“No,” he grunted. He somehow got himself leaning against the fence of the bridge, but he couldn’t get up to run away. If I were vengeful, he would’ve been a sitting duck.

For some reason, I decided to sit next to the guy. I felt like I was an adolescent again, sitting next to somebody with my right leg extended and my left leg bent.

“It’s twenty k.” I threw him the wad. “You don’t look like you’ve got insurance, so that should help.” He looked flabbergasted, grateful, and shameful.

“Thanks.” He held his side leaning forward a bit.

“You shouldn’t feel bad. I was just gonna give it away anyways.” I put my other leg back up and hugged my knees. “Do you ever feel that way?” He looked over wondering why I was engaging him. “You know when somebody gives you a gift and you feel like you don’t deserve it? And you don’t know what to do with it either?” I sat there wondering about the day prior. “There are other people more willing to put everything on the line than me, more talented and with more of a will to succeed. It’s almost like they have more of a will to live.” I hugged my knees tighter. “It’d just be a waste, you know?”

“You make them proud.” I looked at him this time. “They’d be happy if you made it worthwhile.” He winced from talking too much.

“You talk like you know a lot for a guy who’s robbing others.” We both smiled slightly. “What worthwhile thing are you gonna do?”

“Have a kid.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“Wow. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Another silent moment passed.

“Are you conflicted?”

“About what?”

“Taking things for the sake of others.”

“Yeah.”

“That makes sense. The will of your punch wavered.”

“What does that mean?” I thought about it.

“It just means I know some pretty strong people.”

“And you’re not?”

“No.” I looked up at the glowing white moon and navy blue sky. “I’m not very strong at all.”