Chapter 9
9
MALCOLM
“H arder, Malcolm. Faster, squeeze your core, son,” Marshall and Reese bark at me from the peanut gallery. It’s Sunday morning and I’m at the training center sparring with some of the other guys Marshall has brought in over the years. Every Sunday morning is open gym which means that you can come and get a few rounds in with some of the other guys who train here. While I’m never one to want to pursue the sport professionally, I still enjoy the occasional round in the ring here and there. It allows me to get out some pent up energy and aggression in a healthy way. And right now, I have plenty to go around.
It’s been a couple weeks since I’d seen her at the bar with that khakis wearing tightwad Jason. What did she see in a guy like him? He wore a polo for fucks sake. But the better question is, why do I care so much about what she sees in him? We had one night together. And while it might have been the best sex I’d had in years, it wasn’t like I was in love with her or something. We weren’t together—I don’t date—so she is free to see whoever she wants.
But it still irritated me that she told me no when I asked her to come home with me.
Women never tell me no.
But Ophelia did.
Little fox.
“Watch your left, boy, or you’re gonna—” WHAM! Distracted by the thoughts of her, Ronan lands a solid left hook across my jaw and I go down with a hard thud. “I told you to watch your left,” Marshall deadpans from his metal foldout chair as Reese ‘ oohs’ from his own. He leans over to look at me as I’m laid out on the mat.
“Thank you, Marshall, you’re a big help when a guy needs it,” I say sarcastically as I take Ronan’s hand and stand up again. I shake my head and remove my training gear, bumping gloves with Ronan as the next man steps in. Sunday sparring is last man standing so once you fall, you’re out until there’s an open spot again.
“Nice hit, man,” I compliment Ronan, a quiet guy who started coming here a year ago, before stepping out of the ring.
Heading for my bag which is on a bench along the wall, I see Marshall get up from his chair in my periphery and start to make his way towards me. He hobbles over and stands slightly hunched to the right when he reaches me.
“Something on your mind, boy?” he asks. The crow’s feet in his eyes dance as he speaks and the straw fedora he’s wearing does precious little to cover up the hair he has left. I pull a towel out of my bag and rub it across my face before pulling my hair out of the bun I had it tied into, shaking it out like a wet dog.
“Uhh, no? Why do you ask?” Using the towel, I wipe my arms and torso off as the hot October heat rages through the training center. Built in an old mechanic’s garage downtown, there is no working AC. The only thing providing a little reprieve from the heat is the two opened garage doors and the occasional breeze that will come through like a true Sunday blessing.
“You just seemed a little in your own head.” He raises a brow at me and studies me through squinted eyes, unsure of if he should believe me or not. I pull on a fresh shirt I stashed in my bag and roll my neck before looking at him again. He’s still staring at me as if he’s waiting on something.
“There’s nothing, truly. I just got distracted, missed Ronan’s tell, and suffered the consequences.” With my bag packed, I head for the door to jump in my truck and go home since it’s my day off but I pause and turn around when I hear him following behind me.
“You’d tell me if something was on your mind?” He looks at me with concern but also so much love. He’s like a father to me, even though he’s old enough to be my grandfather, and wants the best for me. He understands the strained relationship I have with my own father and has stepped into that role without hesitation. I could tell him how I was distracted by the thoughts of her supple curves or by the way she seemed to be toying with me at the bar a couple weeks ago, but why share about something that’s really nothing?
“I promise I would if there was anything to tell. I’ll see ya tomorrow at the bar?” I ask. Seeing as how he is my boss, my sponsor, and also my unofficial training coach, I’ve seen him nearly every day for the last five years. He’s been my sounding board, my mentor, and my biggest supporter through my sobriety journey.
“Yep. I’ll be in when we open but will head home after that. Think you can handle things on your own?” He groans a little as he shifts his weight into his other leg. He’s not much shorter than me but as I look at him, I realize how frail he is starting to look. Sun spots dot his pale skin and white hair fills out a sparse goatee that could use a combing.
“Of course I can, boss.” I fist bump his hand. “You take care now, okay? If you need me for anything just call.” He waves me off with a soft smirk and shuffles back inside. I watch him go for a minute, making sure he gets back to his chair, before turning around and moving for my truck once more.
* * *
I’m halfway through reading an old decrepit copy of The Jungle by Uptown Sinclair that I swiped out of a little free library near the bar when I hear my phone buzz from the stack of books next to the couch. Finishing my page, I turn the book over my knee and check my phone only to see the group chat I have with my friends is lighting up like a goddamn Christmas tree.
Dungeons & Dickheads: 3 new messages
Kolbi:
Halloween’s in two weeks, do we have plans yet? Magnolia is asking if we’re doing anything to celebrate and I wasn’t sure if y’all wanted to go out with us or not.
She’s still struggling with everything going on with her parents, so I think it would be good for her to go out and have some fun.
Connie:
You know I love a good party.
Not But if everyone else is down I’ll go.
Hank:
Okay well now I can’t hear because Bailey just squealed so loud when I asked if she wanted to do something. You fuckers need to dress up because there’s no way my wife is going to let me get away with not doing some sort of couples thing.
You dickwads could come to the bar. We’re doing a fundraiser for Creighton’s House that night – I have to close so that’s where I’ll be.
I proposed the idea to Marshall a few weeks ago to do some kind of fundraiser once a year in order to support local recovery programs. He was completely on board with the idea and after some research, I reached out to a local center called Creighton’s House which supports young people in starting and maintaining their recovery journey.
Kolbi:
I think that’s great, brother. Let’s all go and hangout at Butcher and Block for the night. Hank, I mentioned dressing up to Magnolia and she’s already shopping so you won’t be alone in that.
Hank:
Yeah she texted Bailey asking what we’re wearing already lol
Connie:
I will *not* be dressing up.
Hank:
Too late dude, Bailey’s already talking about what she’s ordering for you. I think she mentioned some sort of hotdog suit? Something about how you’re a big weiner?
HAHAHAHAHAHA I knew I loved that girl.
Connie:
I’ll stay home then, thanks.
Kolbi:
Oh don’t be such a tightwad Conrad. You’ll go out and you’ll have a good time. Malcolm is doing a good thing here and we will support him in it.
My friends have been an integral part of my recovery journey so they know how important places like Creighton’s House are to me. If it weren’t for the three of them, I would never have gotten help in the first place. By the time they realized what was going on, I was three years into my addiction and had learned how to cover it up and trick everyone into thinking I wasn’t completely high even when I was. Hank was deployed, Conrad was about to graduate with a degree in computer science and was programming shit I could never understand, and Kolbi was hustling his ass off to save enough money to open Sweetgrass Security. Everyone knew what they were doing, where they were going, and the pressure to keep up was crippling. It didn’t help that my parents were on me about graduating with honors and applying to some of the top architecture schools in the country. My father was an architect, and I would be, too, even if I didn’t want to be.
The first time my roommate offered me Adderall, I said yes because I had a paper due the next day and a full day of classes. I didn’t think twice about taking it. I had no idea how it would sink its barbs into my brain and alter its chemistry to make me feel as if I was starving without it. I used it a few more times when I was behind on my school work, but by the time I was in my final year of school, I couldn’t go more than twelve hours without some kind of hit. I would lose entire days and wake up in different places unsure of how I got there. More than a few times I would call my friends in the middle of the night to talk to them about something I’d read and not remember our conversation the next morning. The final straw was when I went on a three day bender and passed out in my apartment for nearly twenty-four hours without contacting anyone. Kolbi and Conrad found me on the floor next to an empty pill bottle and told me I needed to get help. They, with the support of Hank all the way from some far off place, drove me to a rehab center and told me they would do whatever they needed to help me get clean.
I appreciate that Kolb.
Party starts at 8 and goes until closing. Specials will be available to benefit Creighton’s House and there *is* a costume contest. Buy in is $5 and the winner gets $300. The rest of the money goes towards supporting the cause.
Hank:
We will ALL be there buddy – right Conrad?
After a long pause and I’m sure several eyerolls from the grumpiest member of our group, the nickname I’d given Conrad—which he hates—pops up on my phone once more.
Connie:
Yes, we will all be there.