Page 68 of Undefeated

“And when your father came home from the war, you were happy to see him? You had no recollection of the beatings or abuse after you started boxing?” he asked.

“Yes, I was happy to see him, and no. I had no recollection of any abuse or beatings,” I responded.

“Now, your grandfather. I imagine if he trained you, if he was your trainer and your manager, he must have had experience?” he asked, still leaning back in his chair.

“Yes, he was a champion. He won several titles,” I responded quickly, proud of my grandfather.

He paused.

Silence.

“Wait a fucking minute, doc. What are you saying?” I snarled as I sat up in my seat.

He leaned forward and picked up his pen. “I’m not saying anything. What are you thinking, Shane?”

“Well, you stopped talking. I’m not stupid. You do that when you want me to think,” I responded.

“And what, Shane, did you think?” he asked.

“Well, I think you wanted me to think that my grandfather abused my grandmother,” I said angrily.

“I didn’t want you to think anything, Shane. I gave you time to think whatever it is that your mind developed as a thought or series of thoughts,” he said quietly.

“I don’t like this game,” I said as I pulled my hood onto my head.

“It’s not a game. I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to help you in regard to your father. Anger can destroy you. I’m trying to help you understand some things,” he looked at his watch.

“We’re about finished for the day, may I continue?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes, “Sure.”

“Your grandfather’s era. They rarely got divorced. That era of marriages tended to work through any and all problems. It was perceived, back then, as being far more sacred and far more of a commitment. I suspect, considering all things – your father abusing your mother, your grandfather being a boxer, and the fact that he was divorced – that he may have abused your grandmother,” he held his hand in the air to prevent me from speaking and took a breath.

“I say this for this reason only. To give your father a reason for being the way he was. It wasn’t necessarily his fault that he acted the way that he did. When children are exposed to abuse, they either become abusers or they’re like you – one hundred percent opposed to it. It’s anyone’s guess where people land. It’s like the son or daughter of a raging alcoholic. Some become alcoholic, and some are so opposed to the thought of drinking that they abstain from it for a life time,” he paused and lowered his hand.

I thought about what he said.

“So you’re thinking maybe my father grew up seeing his father doing what I witnessed my father doing – and that he just ended up abusing instead of abstaining?” I rubbed my chin and looked around the room.

“It’s a thought. It’s possible. We’ll never know,” he responded.

It made sense. Everything that he had said, my hoodie and when I started wearing it as a child. The fact that my childhood blanket had been used for security of sorts, and that it was kept in a footlocker full of mothballs.

My grandfather, and his devotion to boxing. Maybe it was why he got me involved in boxing. It’s possible, I suppose, that he started boxing as an outlet after my grandmother left. Knowing and understanding these things didn’t allow me to forgive my father for what he did, but it was beginning to help me understand.

As adults, we are a product of what we were exposed to as children. Generations of abuse breed generations of abusers. Until one person is strong enough to break the chain.

I’m strong enough.

I stood from the couch and pressed my jeans with my hands, removing the wrinkles. He stood from his chair and walked around his desk, a business card in his hand.

“Would you like to make another appointment for your next session?” he asked.

“No sir, I’m done here. I appreciate your help. I’ll be fine,” I pulled my hood over my head.

“Good luck in your upcoming fight, Mr. Dekkar. I’m here if you need me,” he said as he handed me the business card.

I placed the business card in my pocket and turned to face the door. I inhaled a slow breath through my nose and exhaled out my mouth. I grabbed the door handle and slowly opened the door, knowing that the fight was the farthest thing from my mind right now.