Page 4 of Sealed in Ink
I shrugged. “No more buses. Going to have to walk.”
“Walk?”
Behind us, people started yelling. I was smiling again. I’m not sure what that says about me, that I could do all that violence and then smile. “More likerun,” I said. I grabbed him by the arm and hauled him away.
We sprinted down the street and then ended up walking home together. From that night on, we were best friends. Brad understood I’d never be like other people. He never tried to press me. I ate at his house for Thanksgiving, not because I needed the familial warmth, but because I’d be well-fed with plenty of chicken and protein. I was going to become a pro fighter. I needed it.
I helped Brad wheneverheneeded it. He was—is—the only friend I needed then and now. Nobody can take that first night away from us.
As we grew up together, we stayed close—as close as I’m capable of, anyway. I started boxing, then fighting in mixed martial arts. Brad got some land and tended to it before deciding he didn’t want to be a farmer and opened a hardware store. I was there when his mom died, waiting for him outside the hospital, then awkwardly joining them as they sat in the waiting room. Marywas nine years old and devastated, clutching onto Christopher and screaming into his chest. She was usually a bright, happy girl, but she was wrecked, her pale brown hair looking worn from where she’d been tugging it.
Soon after that, I moved away and began my career. I’d return often to visit Brad. My coach says being out there helps me get ready for a fight.“Gives you a couple of smiles. With you, that goes a long way.”
Earlier this year, I visited, and Mary was… different. I was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a usual black coffee, and she rushed in, her brown hair straightened and pinned back stylishly. She was wearing a denim skirt, chunky boots, and a strappy top.
Suddenly, everything changed. Everything I’d ever known in all my life spun over, fell apart, obliterated. Mary made me feel. Run hot. My heart started beating hard as she looked across at Brad, standing at the sink.
“Is this okay for a poetry reading?”
She was wearing tights, clutching closely to her thick legs. I stared down at my black coffee for the rest of the conversation, knowing it was wrong, knowing I couldn’t let myself go there. That wasthisyear. I was—I am—thirty-two. She’s eighteen.
“It’s great. You look nice.”
“Thanks. See you later. Bye, Rust.”
“Bye,” I said, not looking at her, knowing I’d never be able to look at her in the same way again.
“You good?” Brad asked me once she was gone.
Grinding my teeth, staring at my coffee like it was the lake water all those years ago, I told him, “Yeah, fine.” But I was far from fine.
CHAPTER
TWO
MARY
Brad’s at the kitchen sink, wringing the knee sleeve he wears when playing tennis at the local club. My older brother looks like my dad in certain lights, with his reddish-brown hair and the thin beard that’s almost blond. He’s lean like Dad, too, but way quicker to smile. Sunlight shines through the window, showing the several acres of picturesque land.
“I’ll be taking a trip soon,” Brad says. “Need to head up to Vegas to see Dad. It’s been a while since I checked in on him.”
Anytime Brad talks about visiting Vegas, it’s with this subtly questioning note in his voice. He wants to know ifIwant to go with him. Dad abandoned us the day Brad turned nineteen. He fell apart after Mom died, as if she took him with her. It completely derailed Brad’s dreams of being a football player. Instead, he fought and won adoption rights for me and raised me for the second half of my childhood.
“Okay,” I say, spooning some cereal.
Brad sighs. “The timing’s annoying. I booked the flights for early next week, but Rust called last night and said he’s consideringcoming down Monday to get his head right for training camp. Well, his coach called.”
“His coach called you?” I ask, using some calming mind tricks I pick up online so asnotto let any of the inappropriateness running through my head show.
“Yeah. Rust’s busy with his fight prep, the heavyweight championship. He’s been waiting for this for a long time. You know what he’s like when he’s in his head.”
“But he wants to be here?”
Brad wrings out the knee sleeve and then places it across the back of a chair. “I don’t know aboutwant. I think it’s just the best thing for him and his performance. I was wondering if you’d mind if he were here a couple of days? It’s not like he’ll bother you.”
I swallow, my belly tingling, other places tingling too. Mom’s face flashes in my mind: her beautiful crown of bright yellow hair, her pearl necklace, and her brown reading glasses, wearing a frown of pure judgment.“Never be one ofthosewomen, Mary. I called you Mary for a reason.”
“Mary?”
