Stella and the Boxer

Chapter 45

“If you need me at all, you can call me,” Casey tells me on her way out, “Of course, I don’t know why you’d need me. Don’t be nervous, I’ve probably just made it worse.” She looks worriedly at me and shakes her head a bit.

Charlie and Mark are talking in the corner of the smaller, makeshift room that we’re in, so neither hears our conversation.

“I know how scary it is, watching him,” Casey assures me quietly. Mason stands beside her, pretending not to listen. “He is very good at what he does though, and Mark keeps a close eye on what goes on. Mark might not seem to be… good with details, but he can catch Charlie’s mistakes before he makes them. Just try to relax and enjoy yourself.”

She pats my shoulder as I nod, and I think I can feel the color draining from my face, though I do appreciate her trying to calm me.

Fifteen more minutes pass and it’s only the three of us. I try to keep quiet and out of the way, but there doesn’t seem to be much that I can disturb. Mark leaves and returns frequently, and Charlie tries to talk to me as though we’re sitting in Clemson listening to records, and not about to be separated into a ring and bleachers while I watch him fight. Even though he speaks with his usual calmness, I can tell that he’s in his own head as much as I am.

Mark returns to the room for what must be the tenth time, but he stops in the doorway.

“Stella, I’ve told one of the men working where to seat you, so I know where you’ll be. He’s waiting.” Mark nods, making brief eye contact with Charlie, who sits next to me on a metal bench.

“Well,” with a deep breath, I stand, and Charlie follows, “Good luck, I know you’ll—”

Charlie cuts me off by kissing me – hard – bringing me extra close by my hips.

“I love you,” he says against my lips, and then he rests his forehead on mine, “Don’t be afraid, okay? And if you are, just come here. Even if I’m out there, come here and wait for me and we’ll leave as soon as we can.”

“Okay,” I smile, “I think everyone is more worried about me than they are about you. I don’t want you to be stressed out, either. I’ll be fine, as long as you are.”

“Then I have nothing to worry about,” he smirks, taking one step back, allowing me to leave.

I tell him that I love him one more time before I leave him, following Mark back down the hallway, watching as he points me towards a large man in a black tee and jeans. He tells me to follow him, and that he’ll come and find me after Charlie’s match.

The man seats me and politely asks if I need anything. I assume that, as nice as the venue is, no one else is treated so gently at these matches, and I wonder just how worried Charlie has made Mark about my possible reaction to the situation.

Honestly, I don’t feel as nervous as I’d expected to. Casey was right – Charlie is amazing at what he does, and I trust him.

Charlie and his opponent are the second fight of the night. Just ten minutes after I’m seated, the first fighters enter the ring. I pay no mind to their names, but I choose a favorite immediately when one has a violent smile, thrusting his fist into the air and growling, while the other – my choice – simply keeps his head down, listening intently to his coach and swiping a thumb across his nose nervously, ignoring the crowd.

Their fight seems to go by very fast. In fact, it seems that without the time between rounds, the fighters were only pinned against each other for a collective minute, though I know it was much longer. I wish silently for Charlie’s to go so quickly in my mind.