3. Rayzor
Left. Right. Pivot.
Sweat disappeared onto the mat as I glided across the canvas. The gym was dark, only the overhead light spotted me. I needed coordination. Clean movements. There were too many mistakes in my last fight I couldn’t afford to make twice.
Left. Right. Pivot.
Again. Again. And again.
My trainer barked instructions, but I wasn’t hearing none of that shit. Tunnel vision. I had to find every weakness, mistake and make the corrections– something I wasn’t giving up on.
I jabbed too hard, pushing him back into the ropes. He barked in surrender, backing off.
“Aiight, we need a ten. You been going strong for over two hours,” he told me.
I nodded, leaning against the ropes. My phone buzzed in the chair. I glanced back before swinging over the ropes and grabbing it.
Maleek.
I tossed the phone back down.
He’s been hitting me up, but with that shit mystery dude in the suit said about everything, I didn’t even wanna have a reason to go to the crib and deal with Ma. I was trying to sort everything out to make sense of it.
The intercom alerted.
“Who the fuck?” I said, grabbing the remote to turn TV to see the monitors.
It was Leek.
“That’s Maleek. Everything aiight?” my coach asked.
I stared off at the screen, feeling something deep within that I couldn’t tell was anger or some more shit.
“That’s what…” my words trailed off as I unraveled one glove. “I’m ‘bout to find out.”
Taking in the background, I spotted a bag with Maleek, and he was alone. It felt like I was waiting on something else in the rear, but when it didn’t appear, I unraveled the other one, dropping them on the seat.
Maleek was standing at the gate. I wasn’t in a rush. He came for a reason.
The neighborhood moved in the distance. Most mothafuckas around this way had careers or were housewives, so everybody did their own thing. I tend to stay out the way, but I know they’re watching.
I threw my head back, arms crossed. “How you get that?”
He fixed the strap of his bookbag. My eyes landed where his hand went, then back to his face. He had a steady glare in his eyes.
He sniffed. “Something light,” he replied with his chest out.
I could’ve pushed it, but I already knew how it got there. I did this shit for a living. The question wasn’t how it got there, but why it was there to begin with.
“How you get here?”
“Uber.”
A car passed along the street behind us, catching both our attention. I guess we were both waiting on something; we wouldn’t say what it was, but we knew.
“You gon’ let me in?”
I hit the button. The gate slowly slid back. Maleek’s eyes traced the bars as it rolled along. The chain buckled as it did so. The further it went back it opened the space between us.
“I figured this the only way to get you to say something to me. I been hitting you up. You mad at me or something?”
I slipped my hands in my pockets.
“Nah, man,” I exhaled, shaking my head. “I just been tryin’ to get my shit right after Vegas.”
“You sure ‘cause it feels like you’re ducking me.”
I put him in a playful chokehold. “You the older brother or me, lil’ nigga?” I chuckled.
Maleek laughed while trying to remove himself from my hold. He threw a couple air punches before hitting me in the side.
I released him. “That’s how you feeling?”
He dropped his bag, getting into his stance before swinging.
I backed away from it, making him winded.
“That’s where you fucking up at.” I jabbed. “You can’t be eager.”
He watched my feet, swaying and bobbing like he knew my next move.
“How come?”
I hit him in the chest when he least expected.
He folded over.
“You can’t prepare for what you don’t see,” I coached, stepping over him, leaving him in the yard.
He groaned in pain, but I wasn’t about to baby his ass.
He wasn’t fucked up– the hit was enough to feel it, but I wasn’t trying to hurt him.
I’d never use the kind of force or strength I use in the ring, unless his young ass requires it. Even then I might be reluctant.
I was in the kitchen killing a bottled water when he finally came in limping.
“Nigga, you aiight,” I told him, shaking my head.
“Why you hit me like that?”
“Nah, you threw the first hit. You gotta take that L on the chin.”
I tossed him a bottle, and he caught it on reflex. I was impressed.
“Where you learn them moves from?”
“I be watching.”
I raised up, taking a seat on the counter.
“Where you supposed to be at now?”
Maleek’s eyes dropped as he distracted himself with the bottle. He wasn’t expecting me to ask, but he knew I didn’t play when it came to his safety. I might do a lot of unsafe shit in my world, but that ain’t for everybody else.
“Leek.”
“At basketball tryouts.”
“So, why you ain’t there?”
“Because I wanted to kick it with you.”
“What you gon’ tell Ma if you don’t make the team because you missed tryouts?”
He shrugged. “It won’t be the first.”
I hopped down. “What do you mean?”
“It’s happened before. That’s all.”
I don’t want to spend this lil’ bit of time we have arguing, making him shut down and shit.
“Aye, I gotta get cleaned up.”
He went to his room and before I got to mine, I heard him yell as he came running through the halls and dapped me up.
“An upgrade? Hell yeah.”
“Language, lil’ nigga.”
He laughed. “My bad. I appreciate it, Court.” He hugged me.
I upgraded his room with a new system.
“It’s nothing. Enjoy. Gon’ head because you know you gotta go home.”
“I can stay the night.”
“Since when?”
“I mean, Ma’s been gone since earlier yesterday.”
“She ain’t been home?”
“Nope.”
“Where she go?”
“She called me earlier when I was on the way here and said she’ll be back by morning,” he said nonchalantly.
My mind couldn’t help but go left because that shit didn’t make sense. She rarely leaves him alone, and if it was an emergency, why leave him? Theresa always kept eyes on him or kept him in her back pocket. So, leaving wildly like that wasn’t her.
“Call her.”
“Why?”
“You need to make sure she alright.”
“I told you she called me…” he rambled off as he pulled out his phone and called her.
“Yes, Maleek.”
Hearing her voice pierced my chest. She sounded sincere and softer with him.
More than she’d ever been with me once shit changed between us.
That put me in my head. It felt like a punch in the gut– like it was intentional even though I knew it wasn’t because she didn’t know we were together.
That’s just how fucked up shit was in my head.
“Ma, I was just calling to make sure you’re okay.”
“I told you I was, baby.”
He was waiting on me to coach him. I was busy listening to her background, trying to hear anything. It was quiet. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
“If that’s all, Maleek, I gotta go. Call you back. Lock up the house when you get back from tryouts,” she instructed.
She didn’t even wait for his reply before hanging up.
“I told you.”
“Aiight. You can stay the night then.”
“Bet.” He smiled as he raced away from me and closed the room door.
* * *
Later that night
Maleek was on the phone in his room after dipping on me a little bit ago. We played a few games, ordered in and chilled for the most part. I’ve been in the backyard since.
I tripped over Maleek’s bag.
“Fuck,” I groaned after hitting my toe on something hard inside it. When I picked it up, I knew it wasn’t books, but the pried zipper gave me a peek inside.
I sat down and opened it. My fucking heart stopped when I pulled out a jump rope with weighted handles. After dumping the bag, I sat there staring. The past was staring at me.
“Hey, bro, I’m hung…” he yelled from around the corner but stopped when he saw what was in front of. “Shit,” he cursed.
“What the fuck is this, Maleek?”
He stalked over. “You goin’ through my bag now?”
He reached for the wrap first.
“This my fuckin’ crib, lil’ nigga.”
“It’s my shit, though, Court.”
I rose, standing over him.
“Curse again, mothafucka, and take that fuckin’ bass out your voice.”
He dropped his head. “I ain’t mean it like that. I don’t like people in my business.”
“I don’t give a fuck about that. What you doin’ with this?” I held up the boxing glove. All I could do was picture a younger me doing the same shit. This was a full-circle moment, except Maleek had different circumstances. He didn’t have to choose this.
He collapsed onto the sofa, stuffing his hand in his hoodie. Why the fuck didn’t I notice the hoodie until now?
“I wanna be a boxer like you… and dad.”
That felt like a gut punch. It should’ve been a prideful moment, but for some reason, it didn’t land that way. Maleek’s mentioned wanting to do a lot of different things in life but never boxing.
I took a seat.
His TV’s noise was louder than the silence.
“That’s where that eye came from?”
He shook his head.
“You know I want you to be better than me, right?”
“Bro, I’m so tired of hearing y’all say that. I mean, I don’t see nothing wrong with you.”
“Nah, you’re seeing the end result of a lot of hard work, but you also saw the bad that got me here.”
“So, you’re telling me that is the worst it can get?”
“It can always get worse.”
I ran my hand over my hair.
“But it’s not. I mean, look at you. The world loves you, Court. You got bread, cars, money. That’s not a bad life to live.”
I exhaled. “But I also did time and was homeless. Gotta sneak around to see my brother, mama ain’t fuckin’ with me, Pops is dead. Bread and all that other shit don’t fix that because if it did, then you wouldn’t be lying to be here, and I’d still have both my folks.”
“I’m just tired of everyone trying to plan my life.
I can be like you without traveling your path, Court.
I don’t care about none of the bad stuff because I know it’s part of life.
You made it out. I know it’s not the best situation right now but it’s not going to be like this always.
Dad can’t come back, but you still got me, and… Ma, she’ll come around.”