Page 53 of On the Ropes
Dean
Istood in front of the vacant lot holding a cup of coffee. A guy from the rec center had just dropped off the dumpster. It sat behind me, empty, ready for what I hoped was our final cleanup day before whatever we decided to do with it.
Yesterday I’d installed a bench at the spot where Tabitha and I had cleaned that first night. As promised, Eddie and Alice sat there—grumbling around a cigarette and drinking coffee, respectively. Pam was curled up between them.
“You’re not even glaring at it, you know,” Alice said.
“Yeah,” Eddie added. “You look happy or somethin’. Or at least not pissed off.”
I sipped my coffee. “I am happy. If today goes well, we won’t be staring at this shit anymore.”
“And that’s the only reason you’re happy?” Alice asked.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Guess the Phillies didn’t suck last night.”
Eddie stubbed out his cigarette. “It’s a fucking miracle.”
That seemed to satisfy her curiosity for now. Mentioning the game was a lucky guess. Only one thing—one person—dominated my attention all night long, and it sure as hell wasn’t baseball. Or that phone call with Harry. Given my current situation, considering the Game Time opportunity would have been the sensible idea.
Instead, I fell asleep with the taste of lemons on my tongue. And Tabitha’s long legs and pretty lips in my dreams. An indulgence if I ever knew one.
A burst of noise drew my attention. Natalia and Martín walked down the street with a small group of their friends, holding shovels and garbage bags. My parents were close behind with folks from their church. I caught snatches of their conversation in Italian, giving a small wave when they made eye contact.
Neighbors from all down the block began trickling toward the dumpster, carrying various tools. I hadn’t made a big deal about it. Just knocked on doors and let people know what the plan was for the final clear-out today. It surprised me, since a lot of them had already been helping.
A week had gone by already, and the change was dramatic. Since retiring, I was used to my presence evoking a swift anger or an almost patronizing sympathy. This sense of camaraderie, of working together, seemed totally different.
Boxing was a solitary sport. And for me, a mental game more than a physical one. Brute strength and speed had their limits. But there was no limit to scrutinizing your opponent’s weaknesses and then using them against them. No limit to analysis. No limit to honing a precise focus.
The vacant lot in front of me was getting cleaned up. But it was messy and unorganized. The shape of its future was fuzzy and tenuous. Everyone seemed to be having a good time working together though. Working toward something that would improve our community, no matter how small.
Harry’s words came back to me.
But what are you doing with your life?
I rubbed my hand across my mouth and thought about having to tell my parents about Harry’s call. About Vegas and getting back into a sport that could have easily killed me. The pit of my stomach twisted into knots.
I knew exactly how they’d react. And it wouldn’t be positive.
There was another burst of noise, this time to the right of me. I knew who it was from the way the hair stood up on the back of my neck. My gaze drifted over to the red-haired ray of sunshine keeping me up at night. She was waving to all the gathered neighbors like Miss America, holding a plastic bag from the Broad Street Diner.
“Be right back,” she called out. “I’ve got breakfast courtesy of one Mr. Drew Tyler.”
Mom turned her head. “Lemon bars?” she asked sweetly.
“Of course. How could I forget?”
Tabitha breezed right past them and crooked her finger at me. “I’ve got an idea,” she said as she walked toward Linda’s stoop. I followed her, working to keep my posture relaxed and not eager. I was sleep-deprived and running low on restraint.
I was liable to say yes to any ideas she had.
She placed the plastic bag on the top step and began removing containers. I leaned against the brick, took another sip of coffee. She seemed tired.
I wondered if I was keeping her awake too.
“How was your meeting last night?” I asked.
She looked up, pushed the hair from her eyes. “With the hotel in Austin? It was good. Great. It’s going great, I mean. I’ve got to book my plane ticket actually since I leave in ten days.”
