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Jake makes for the changingroom.
“I’ll catch up with you,” Isay.
Jake nods and, with a curious look between Crawford and me, goes on hisway.
“How’s my son doing?” heasks.
“Beck’s doing better in class. His test scores are up. Debate team’s doingwell.”
“Relieved to hear it. He’s been talking about some new interests, which I trust arefleeting.”
I feel the tension start at my toes and take over my body. But I don’t showit.
“I used to do that,” he says, nodding toward the ring. “It’s been a while. You spar every week,huh?”
“No. We mainlyshadowbox.”
His gaze comes back to mine, sparking. “What do you say? Want to show me yourmoves?”
After dinner at my mom’s house, we dropped Beck off and went back to Rena’s. She woke up long enough to get upstairs, but I carried her to bed and lay awake staring at the ceiling, thinking about her and me and Beck’swords.
Now, Inod.
“People think boxing is about men hitting each other,” Crawford says, ducking under the ropes and into the ring. I follow. “But it’s about strategy and discipline. Knowing when to block, when topunch.
“I’m concerned it’s too late for my children.” He throws the first punch, a jab, and I duck out of theway.
“Beck’ll be an adult soon. Maybe he needs time to figure out what hewants.”
I toss a jab his way, careful. He’s in good shape, but I’m twenty years younger. I don’t want to hurthim.
He comes back with one of his own, plus a cross that catches my arm, hard enough tosting.
“By the time they’re your age, it’s too late. Children need firm lifelessons.”
“They also need compassion. Second chances.” My jaw clenches, and my fists tighten as I think about what Beck toldme.
As I circle Crawford, I can see bits of the man Rena must’ve grown up with. The kind of man who would take away a child’s comfort in order to get his way, or to make apoint.
“I have two children, Wesley,” he goes on, oblivious to my dark thoughts. “You get one chance to shape them. To make them into somethingworthwhile.”
The smugness in his eyes and presumption in his words have my absclenching.
I should be bowing out and stepping down from this ring. My brain enumerates the reasons, one after theother.
He’solder.
A respectedphysician.
I need hisreference.
He’s Rena’sfather.
But the last one’s the only thing I can think of. And instead of making me cautious, it makes meangry.
I’ve never condoned violence, never perpetratedit.
But I’ve also never stared down someone who deliberately hurt a person I caredabout.
