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Chapter 3:
It was the day after I was diagnosed with conduct disorder and depression and I had refused to eat anything. I stayed locked in my room, staring at the ceiling and running my fingers over the ugly bruise on my stomach that I earned in one of the best fights of my life just a week before. I didn’t want to accept all that Dr Heinman had told me and my mother about my behavior and feelings. They didn’t want me to participate in such violent activities. They were going to take away the one thing I loved in this world.
It was Ryan who had climbed through my window and literally lifted me from my break down. He promised to always help me to carry on fighting and keep me safe. He also brought ten boxes of tic-tacs to replace my meds with. I loved him for what he sacrificed for me. He was my hero, the one and only.
But at this moment I was ready to cut his nuts out.
“Come on Lea I know you can get out of it!”
I ground my teeth together as he applies more pressure on my arm. He has my right arm in an arm lock and the pressure of his legs is keeping my back glued to the mat. The only way to get out of this hold is to either grab hold of my right hand or roll myself out. I reach out with my left hand towards my right but Ryan is too tall and my hand could barely scrape my fingers.
“Don’t give up Lea! You’ve done this before!” Ryan’s voice is breathless because of our training.
I squeeze my eyes shut as he applies more pressure, not enough to cause serious damage but enough to make my eyes sting. I use my legs, forcing what last strength I have left from my upper body to push up against his legs. I cry out as I roll over breaking his hold, before climbing as fast as I could onto his stomach and locking my legs around his. I lay punch after punch against his head as he attempts to block my flying fists. Before he can regain some semblance, I grab him around his neck in a simple but effective triangular choke hold. I hold on, using my upper arm strength to squeeze his neck, aware of how much pressure to place.
I shout in victory as I feel his tap on my shoulder. I fall onto my back in sheer exhaustion, a triumphant smile lighting my face. Ryan shoves himself up as he gives me his proud smile.
“Damn you have a great coach!” he wipes his hand across his sweat drenched forehead, his voice a bit scratchy because of my choke hold.
I roll my eyes, “Psht, that was all me. Sheer power!”
“And pardon me but who taught you that choke hold?” his eyebrows were lost in his hair.
“These bad boys.” I lift my arms, which feel a bit like jelly at the moment.
“I almost dislocated one of those bad boys.” He chuckles at my growl before pulling me up.
“I was ready to cut off your nuts and feed them to you!”
“Well its good thing you aren’t fighting any men at this tourney. I would have to warn them before every match.” He winks at me as I roll my eyes. We make our way towards the changing rooms. We never showered at the gym because what came out of those shower heads wasn’t always water. I grab my kit bag, pulling my hoodie on before walking out of the gym and into the fresh air. Ryan is standing against the wall, smoking.
“If you want to smoke, don’t do it without me.” I say, pulling his cigarette from his mouth and taking a long pull.
He wrinkles his nose, “You know I hate it when you smoke.” He snatches it from my fingers before I can take another pull.
“Don’t do it in front of me then.” I smirk, pushing his shoulder to make him walk.
I’m sleeping at Ryan’s house tonight. Tomorrow morning I’ll stop at my mother’s house to tell her that Ryan and I are heading for a little trip to the other side of the country. I wasn’t going to tell her where exactly we were going, but I knew that she needed to know even if she didn’t care all that much. My bags were packed and waiting for me in my closet. Last week Ryan had decided I required new gloves for New York. Waiting for me in my bag at home was a pair of black gloves with blue flames designed from the knuckles upward. The rest of my fighting gear remained the same, a plain black tank top and black boxing shorts. Ryan had sorted our plain tickets and apparently his ‘friend’ Mike would be picking us up from the airport. To say I was excited about leaving this place for a few weeks with my best friend would be an understatement.
We chat as we walk to Ryan’s home, which is situated just on the outskirts of downtown. The houses here are nothing like the one I live in. While that is all glass and marble, this is pure home. Medium sized homes line the streets, each with its own patch of greenery. Ryan’s is painted a soft blue, with added touches of dark blue.
We step through the door and I am immediately engulfed in a warm hug.
“How you doing honey?” I smile against David’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. It was warm and safe. Home.
“I’m great dad, and you?” I smile into his blue eyes which are the exact replicas of Ryan’s. I know he loves when I call him dad. It had being one of those fun days with Ryan and his father and somehow a pillow fight had ensured. Ryan had been picking on me and David had grabbed Ryan and started tickling him. I had giggled and shouted “Get him dad!” Only when I saw both Ryan and David staring at me with wide eyes did I realize what I had said. I remember the tears pooling up and David was already kneeling in front of me. He had hugged me tight, reassuring me that he was my dad as much as he was Ryan’s and I could call him that anytime. I never stopped.
“I’m good but I would like to know, are you getting too old for me, or am I getting too old for you?” he smiles and he looks so much like Ryan, only with lines surrounding his eyes.
“Neither.” I smile, shaking my head before kissing him on the cheek.
“Good! Now come on dinner is ready.”
Dinner is filled with laughs and the most delicious spaghetti and meat balls. What I love about dinner at this house is how real it is. We eat around a small wooden table, using simple plates and glasses. There is no napkins and gold and silver forks and knives. We drink Coca Cola even after Ryan decides to drink straight from the bottle. I feel as if I don’t want to leave this house. To just live in this love forever.
“Are you all ready for tomorrow?” David asks as we clear the table. Ryan is currently using the foam of the dish-washing water to make himself a fake mustache.
He nods, “Yup, our flight leaves at two, so we have enough time to get Lea’s luggage and get to the airport.”
I chuckle as I watch the foam slide down his lip and into his mouth making him spit and curse. Sam shakes his head at his son as he pulls his wallet out.
I grab his hand, “Don’t you even think about it.” I raises my eyebrows at him.
“You going to need money for transport and food.” He insists.
“We have enough dad. You don’t have to worry, I promise.” I push his wallet back towards him and he sighs.
“I will always worry about you honey” he kisses my forehead, “especially when you have this knucklehead looking after you.” He tilts his head towards Ryan who is currently looking at us and smiling with a full on foam beard and mustache.
“Ryan! Get your ass up already!” I slap his ass and he jerks up, his face decorated with the imprints from his pillow.
“Do you have to be so violent in the morning.” He mumbles as he rolls out of bed. His hair is sticking up in all directions and his bare chest is on full view. I look away busying myself with pulling out some clothes for him to wear. I know I see him every day without a shirt, but seeing him in just his boxes, with his hair all messed up and sleep in his eyes, brought on memories which I have tried to keep tucked away.
“It’s already ten, we still need to fetch my bags and listen to mothers ramblings.” I throw a clean plain white t-shirt and old jeans at him. He pulls them on before rushing to brush his teeth and wash his face.
“We have enough time woman, stop stressing. If your mother doesn’t stop talking, we’ll just knock her out and leave.”
“I like how you think.” I roll my eyes, picking up his duffel bag and walking out of his room.
“You cannot just up and leave!” My mother’s voice is at an impossibly high pitch and it looks as if she will spontaneously combust.
“Look, I need to leave for a few weeks,” I rolls my eyes as she squeaks at the word ‘weeks’, “I’ll have Ryan with me at all times and we not going to be doing anything crazy.” Besides enter an illegal underground mixed martial arts tournament. But she didn’t need to know that.
“I think she can do with a little holiday.” Tom nods his head at me while talking to my mother. I could’ve almost smiled at the man in that moment. Almost.
“You are agreeing with this insane plan?” My mother stares at Tom with her mouth agape.
“Well I think she’s old enough to make her own decisions,” I almost snort at that comment, I have been old enough to make my own decisions for long enough, “plus I don’t see any harm in exploring the country. But I insist that you take one of my credit cards.” He reaches towards his suit pocket and I almost punch him in his rich ass face.
“We don’t need your money! Our tickets are booked and we both have saved enough money to last us a month.”
“I understand, but it would put your mother’s heart to rest if she knew you had enough money in case of an emergency.” Tom slides a gold credit card across the counter, his face pulled into a tight smile.
I open my mouth to tell him where he could shove his credit card but I stop as Ryan reaches past me and pulls the card towards him.
“Thank you Mr Anderson. We will make sure to use it if we need to.” His voice is light but his shoulders are tense. He gives my mother a tight smile before turning towards me, “I’ll take your bags out.” He rubs my arm soothingly before walking out.
“Well then, I’ll see you in a few weeks.” I trail off uncomfortably. I guess I inherited my father’s marvellous farewell skills.
“Oh honey…” before I could react my mother has me in a tight hug, “take care of yourself, and don’t get into any trouble and don’t forget to take your pills.” My mother rambles on in my ear as I stand stiff, not making a move.
I pull away after I feel as if I am being smothered. I couldn’t remember the last time my mother had hugged me. Probably before I started bathing myself.
“Yeah…” I turn around and hurry out of the kitchen, practically sprinting out the front door. Ryan is leaning against the taxi, smoking a cigarette. Before he can blink I rip it out of his mouth and throw it on the ground. I hop into the taxi, not bothering to offer him any explanation.
I gaze out the window the entire ride to the airport. Ryan keeps up a light conversation with the taxi driver, moving from topic to topic. At one time I was sure they had been talking about who was the better chef, Gordon Ramsey or Jamie Oliver. I thought about my father. What type of a person would he be? I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would he recognise me? I knew I had his hair and eyes but I didn’t really have his other features and neither did I really resemble my mother. I wasn’t going to be using my real name, so that could help too. As far as I can remember he had always called me Ana. But now I always introduced myself as Lea.
I couldn’t really wrap my head around the fact that I was going to see my father again after all this time. It was mind boggling and scary as shit. I just hoped to God that I didn’t find something worse than an underground MMA organisation. That’s the part that I didn’t actually mind. I respected these organisations and fought in only competitions hosted by them. They made fair money and treated the fighters properly. Yes, so there were no actual rules, like the UFC had, but neither was it controlled by the corporates. It was fair and just and no one dare go against the referees. Winner was by knockout or tap out, nothing more, nothing less.
The flight to New York was long and dreadful. My stomach churns for most of the flight and I have to hold myself back from knocking the asshole sitting behind me every time he kicks my seat. Ryan tries to keep me occupied for most of the flight, going over fighting techniques, combos, weak spots etc. He doesn’t say anything about my weird behavior earlier and I am grateful. I will most probably tell him everything soon and I guess he knew it too.
By the time we get out bags from baggage claim and manage to get outside, I am dying to just drop on a bed and sleep. The air is refreshing and the cool spring breeze is welcomed. The airport is crowded and you can barely breathe without inhaling some other person’s fumes.
I lean against a pillar watching a small girl and boy argue about who is going to get the window seat on the ride to their hotel. The boy is about ten years old and stands over the girl with his masculine air of superiority. The girl, who looks to be about seven, stands her ground, glaring at her brother. I smile at her bravery.
I am brought out of my people watching by Ryan’s call. He is standing by a beat up Mazda, dropping our bags into the trunk, while conversing with a skinny looking dude whose hair caught my eye due to the fact that it sat on his head like a shaggy mop.
I walk over, looking at the car skeptically, it looks like death on four wheels. Well considering the one tire looking almost flat, I would rather say death on three and a half wheels.
“Well, well is this the famous Lea I have heard so much about.” Shaggy-hair dude says as I stand next to Ryan. His voice is low and mellow and he sounds like those stoners from the movies whose every sentence begins with ‘dude’ and ends with ‘totally’.
“And you must be the friend I have heard nothing about.” I nod my head, but can’t stop my smile. He just looks like such a calm, chilled person. I can picture him being the guy, during a fire that will walk around smiling, telling people ‘just chill out dude’.
“Names Mike, but all my friends call me Mike.” He chuckles and his laugh was just as slow and mellow.
I smile, this guy will be good entertainment, “Lea.”
“Great now that we all know each other we can get moving.” Ryan flickes my nose, which he thoroughly enjoys doing before hopping into the car.
I grip the handle of the door and pull but nothing happens. Mike who is sitting in the driver’s seat, chuckles, “You got to put your back in it.”
I roll my eyes and pull harder which makes the door groan. I’m so afraid that if I pull too hard the entire door will come off its hinges. I almost shout out of frustration just as the door swings open. It groans all the way open and back all the way closed. I shift on the blue seats, which looks as if they were picked up from a junk yard and plunked into the car. I swear I feel the seat slide to the side as Mike pulls out of the airport parking.
“Man, I cannot wait to see you fight in the competition! It’s going to be wicked.” I smile at Mike as he cruises down the freeway. His hair is light brown and falls over his ears. His face and practically entire body is reed thin. His skin is pasty white, but there is some redness to his cheeks. His eyes are a soft green and seems to always be smiling. He’s dressed in a plain blue t-shirt and faded, ripped jeans. However, his beat up black converse pulls his look together.
“Trust me Mike, you are not going to be disappointed.” Ryan turns towards me with a smile, his eyes shining with pride.
“I hope not.” I mumble, but offer Ryan a smile.
Mike doesn’t stop talking after that. He tells us about the block of apartments he lives in, which was the only thing he let his father pay for as far as looking after him was concerned. He has rejected his father’s offer for a new car because he bought his baby ‘Lucy’ with his own hard-earned cash. He goes on to tell us about his neighbors and in particular his seventy year old neighbor who was in love with him. Apparently he wouldn't have anything against it if his neighbor wasn’t a man.
I also learn that Mike works at a bar, just around the corner from his apartment, and is known to make the best drinks. It is the only reason why he still has his job, considering he didn’t fit the usual New York bartender look, which is supposedly ‘cool, yet charming’. Mike knows his way around New York ‘like a vet knows its way around a cow.’ His words, not mine.
The underground fighting arena is just a ten minute walk from Mike’s apartment. There is also a gym next to his apartment building which would be useful for practice. So far New York isn’t turning out to be all that bad.