An Empty Bedroom Closet

Eight empty hangars, an old blanket on the top shelf and a concho belt.1

He'd bought the belt for her in Cancun, Mexico. It was the day after a night of margaritas and mojitos, dancing and laughter, and tender, heartfelt lovemaking. When he gave her the belt, he told her in his stumbling way that she was a knockout and had won the 'Championship' of his heart by unanimous decision. 2

The sentimental bond he ascribed to it was now as bankrupt as the useless, twisted wire hanging next to it. To anyone looking at the belt, forlorn and pathetic in the closet, it probably looked like just another cheap ill-considered Mexican souvenir.3

Anyone but him.4

These artifacts, along with a now crumpled piece of paper, were the only evidence she had ever been here. An empty bedroom closet, a stupefying sense of loss and agonizing anguish was all he had to show for five years of loving her. The pain was physically manifested in his chest. It felt like someone squeezing his heart, brutally hard.5

He collapsed, more than sat, onto the mattress. The jumble of emotions overwhelmed his ability to process coherent thoughts. 6

He tried to focus. 7

Three hours later, after a glorious, sunny fall afternoon had deteriorated into a chill, dark night, he gave up on trying to focus. 8

He stood up and started toward the garage. As he passed through the laundry room, he stepped on something crunchy. Looking down, he noticed she hadn’t even taken her cat’s litter box, food or water bowls. 9

‘Guess she just wanted to get the hell out of here so bad, she’ll buy new ones,’ he thought hitting the garage door opener.10

The drive to Orazio’s took about ten minutes. He didn’t even bother to turn on the radio. He parked, and hoped he would remember where when he came out. Or was carried out. 11

He jackknifed a leg over the bar stool saying, “Gimme a Glenfiddich, rocks. Make it a double... and an Old Style,” before the bartender even had a chance to say hello. She sensed he wasn't dying for company.12

Gina, the bartender, had a pinup model's body she always poured into a tee shirt one size too small. She was the angel of the neighborhood. No matter what she put on the top shelf, guys were always ordering from those bottles, so they could watch her tee shirts gloriously mold to her magnificent form as she stretched to reach them. 13

Guys held the door open in the winter until Gina or her dad, Dominic, who owned the bar, yelled at them to shut it. 'All they wanted was to kick the snow off their work boots, keep the floor clean,' they protested. Yeah, and hope the cold air would light up Gina’s headlights.14

Dom was a decent middleweight boxer in his day. Ogling was as far anyone with any sense tried to go with his daughter, Gina. He ran the last place in town with an honest pour and no ferns. What had formerly been a Midwest farm town had succumbed to urban sprawl. Ten years ago there was one stoplight. Now you could hardly go two blocks without some sort of traffic sign or stoplight impeding your travel.15

He drained the Glenfiddich before she even brought his Old Style.16

“’Nother,” he said huskily, sliding the empty glass, feeling the fiery warmth spreading through his ice-cold interior, the alcohol jump-starting deadened synapses, firing neurons.17

“You don’t say nothin’, you come inta’ my place?” asked Dom. “Wasa matter, Kid.”18

After she poured the second double, Dom motioned Gina to the other end of the bar. His glances at the other patrons dared them to try to leave their seats.19

“Nothing.”20

“Don’ bullshit me, Kid. How long I known you? Ten years? You don’t drink like this. Tell me what’s wrong.” Dom wasn’t going to go away.21

From somewhere, an unsteady voice croaked, “She left me, Dom."22

“Geez, that’s a tough break, Kid. You didn’ do nothin’ stupid, did ya?”23

“I never even saw it coming. Like that left hook of Henry Horner’s.”24

“Yeah, that black kid hit you so hard, your Granpa musta’ hurt.”25

Dom chuckled, “He belted ya’ knee walkin’ with that one."26

Then Dom got serious, "Think, Kid, gotta’ be something made her leave.”27

He had the second Scotch in his hand. He bounced the ice cubes off the side of the glass. Kind of reminded him of bells tolling during a funeral march.28

“She went to the doctor. She’s got a lump in her breast. I found this.”29

It was the crumpled piece of paper. It said, “When you think of me, remember Cancun. I won’t ask you to suffer the way my Dad had to with my Mom. Love, Maggie.”30

“Man, that’s rough, Kid. Her Momma have breast cancer too?”31

“Yeah, took ten long years, the grief almost killed her Dad.”32

“So whaddya think, ya’ want me to ask Gina if she’ll go out with ya’.”33

The Kid stood up so fast he knocked the barstool to the ground. His clenched fists started coming up, the skin on his face tightened into a mask. Dom never flinched.34

“That’s what I thought, Kid. Sit down. Calm down. Lemme buy ya’ a drink.”35

“Don’t you ever…”36

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry, Kid. I wanted to make sure you knew how you felt."37

“What are you talking about, how I feel? How could she not know I love her?”38

"You tell me, Kid."39

The Kid was pissed by the subtle insinuation in Dom's voice. 40

"Hey, I bought a house so we could be together. I don't mess around with other women. I finished college even though it took time from my training and delayed my career. I took her along to my fights in Vegas, LA, Reno. I took her with me to see the ruins in Chichen Itza. I had to talk her into taking time off so she could go. I..."41

The ghost of the last "I" hung in the air, haunting the bar as silent recognition dawned across The Kid's face.42

And there it was. It was all about him, what he wanted, how she could fit into his schedule. He hadn't even gone to the doctor with her. He had gone from a scared kid asking questions to a self-absorbed prick.43

After a while Dom said, "That's good a' ya', Kid. I'm sure Maggie appreciates all ya' done fer her."44

The Kid glared at Dom. "Could you maybe lighten up on me for just a second? 45

The Kid hung his head. Maybe he had been concentrating on the wrong ring. He had been focused on a square one, not the one Maggie wanted.46

All this time...he had never admitted the simple truth of his love; never said, "I love you." He raised his head, opened his eyes. She knew. She never even hinted to him that she knew, but she did.47

He wanted the belt more than he wanted her. 48

Now, only now, was it clear to him what was most important.49

"Dom, I gotta make this right. I gotta make this up to her, she'll let me do that, won't she?" He stood up to pull out the wad of cash he liked to carry around. 50

But all he found was change.51

"I don' know. Look, Maggie come in to say goodbye. I made her tell me what was goin’ on. She needs some time to clear her head. I’m supposed to give you a phone number so’s you can call her. She just wanted to know, ya’ know? Like if you was just pityin’ her. She don' need ya' if ya' ain't gonna' be there. Ya' unnerstan' about being there for her, Kid? That's why I asked about Gina.”52

“Kid, me and you, pretty good fighters, but neither of us got a belt. We both love boxin' and all it's done is break our hands and our hearts. I know ya’ wanna be in her corner for this fight. But sometimes, Kid, in a fight like this…love just ain’t enough.”

January 14, 2010.  © All rights reserved

Author's Note

This is the intro to several other stories about The Kid, Dom and the people in their lives. It revolves around a boxing/fight theme, but it's more about personal challenges.

Reviews

[Raven Starhawk]

Everything you compose is superior to anything I could ever dream of writing. It manifest ultimate hope that one time I might be able to create something as special as you do.

[coin show]

Looks like a good story, But Man you need a editor to fix it up real good, Because it is NOT readable! Pay someone to edit it. Not me, I pay a great editor to fix my stuff.

[mark slade]

i liked it. look forward to reading more.