Page 53 of The Vow

“Yes, you can, love. We will do this together.” The knocking grew incessant. “I’ll see who it is.”

I didn’t recognize the man who walked into the room. His posture was stooped, his frame was skeletal, and he used a cane.

“Hello, son. Can’t stay long. I only drive during daytime.”

“I’ll be out front mowing the lawn. I have your cell phone if you need anything,” Alex said, leaving us alone.

When part of your body dies, everything changes. Normally I would have asked him if he wanted a coffee, or water, but being a proper host was beyond my capabilities. Cable gingerly sat on the couch and placed his cane next to him. I pivoted my chair to face him. “When did you start using that thing?”

“Always needed it. Too stubborn until now. I guess it’s pointless to ask how you’re feelin’.”

“Thanks for the wheelchair,” I said, changing the subject.

“It’s the least I could do, son.”

“Son? What happened to ‘kid?’’

“You know you’re like a son to me, kid. And I... I failed you.”

During all the dark hours I’ve spent thinking, I never once blamed Cable. The monster wasn’t in the room, because monsters aren’t remorseful. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should’ve only put you in the ring with a professional.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“An established fighter.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I should’ve done my research.”

“It’s. Not. Your. Fault!”

“It is!”

We listened to the low-pitched rumble of the lawnmower that mimicked Cable’s growl. I almost whispered, “I could have said no.”

When I made the decision to become a boxer, ma was furious. She wanted me to do something with my life that was respectable, even if it was a blue-collar job. After many heated discussions, she finally admitted to me that she was worried that I would risk getting injured, or worse. My mother had a third eye.

“But I knew you wouldn’t say no. I don’t talk about him, but I had an older brother named Phillip. It’s the reason I chose to train you,” he said, chuckling.

“It wasn’t because you saw potential in me?”

“Nah. That came later.”

“What happened to him?”

“I told you about my mother?”

“Yes. She was a high-wire artist.”

“That’s right. I come from a family of daredevils. Phil was a wild one. As kids, when we weren’t getting ourselves into trouble, we were out explorin’.”

I couldn’t imagine Cable as a child. It’s as if he was born old. “How old were you?”

“Oh, let’s see. Phil was the oldest of seven, and three years my senior. I must’ve been around six. Anyway, he was walking the tracks one day, just to see where he’d end up. I was walking sort of beside him in the grass, throwing a ball to our dog, and goofing around with a couple of boys who lived on the farm next to ours.”

Cable’s eyes were cloudy from age. The bluish-white film over his pupils was more prominent than I remember. “You lived on a farm?”