The Song of David(91)

I nodded. I liked words. But action had felt amazing.

“Words work much better if the person you’re talking to knows you got something to back it up if words fail. How long you been tryin’ to be friends with that kid?” My dad looked over at me and then back at the road.

“A long time.”

“I thought so.”

“I think I broke his nose.” I tried not to sound as pleased as I felt.

“Yeah. You probably did. But now that he knows you can, he won’t be quite as quick to start a fight, now will he?”

“Nope.” I was silent for several minutes, until I forced myself to confess. “Dad?”

“Yeah, son?”

“I liked it. I like fighting. I want to do it again.”



“I want a rematch. I thought I won. I thought I had that guy beat. The bell rang.” I tried to form the words but they were slurred and sloppy and I wasn’t sure anyone would understand. It was the sand in my mouth. The sand and my sore tongue. Damn my mouth hurt.

“You won the fight. It was over. But you had a seizure, Mr. Taggert. We need to find out why.”



And then my eyes closed and the world went dark, darker than the world had ever been. That was the last thing I remember. And now I was here. Now I was in a hospital, the one place I’d sworn I wouldn’t return to. And there would be no more running away. So what did I do now? Where did I go from here? I didn’t know.

Idon’tknowwhattodo Idon’tknowwhattodo Idon’tknowwhattodo—the old refrain was back in my head, an ear worm that refused to morph into a solution. So I was talking to the tape recorder. Again.

Someone on Cordova’s payroll had delivered my truck to the hospital, as well as all my things. I got a nurse to help me up—I was shaky and dizzy, but I could get around well enough—and I positioned the player by my head on the flattened out hospital bed, talking into it so I wouldn’t have to hold it up to my face. They wouldn’t keep me here much longer. We would be heading back to Utah in a day or two. Axel would be driving my truck home. When I said I could do it, Millie had cut me off immediately and the nurse had laughed.

I hadn’t been alone with Millie. Not once. She’d stayed close, her hand on my arm, always touching me, but we hadn’t had any time to ourselves. I didn’t want a repeat of the scene with Moses, and I had no idea what to say to her. The seizure had left me exhausted and sleep was a relief. When I was awake and she was nearby I could only stare at her, cling to her hand, and try to imagine what she was thinking. What she was feeling. I think I knew, and her agony only made me want to sleep again. I’d tried once to tell her how sorry I was, and she just nodded and said, “I know, big guy. I know.” But her eyes had filled up with tears, and she’d laid her forehead down on my chest to hide them from me. I’d smoothed her hair until sleep pulled me under.

The guys—Axel, Cory, Mikey, Paulo and Andy—were in and out. They refused to head back home without me. I got the feeling they were taking turns guarding me, like I would slip away again. None of us talked about why I was here. We tiptoed around that elephant like talking about it would make us all fall apart. So for now, we pretended it was the fight that landed me here. A fight I had won in fairly glorious fashion. It gave us something to talk about.

Moses hadn’t come back. Moses had never been capable of pretending. He delivered Millie and Henry and picked them up again when Henry got restless and needed to head back to the hotel. I could tell Millie wanted to stay. But duty called, and she left without protest, a squeeze to my hand, her arm looped through Henry’s, and none of the things that needed to be said were discussed.

It was late. The guys had all finally left, heading back to their hotel for the night, after making a big show of tearing up the contracts my lawyer had sent them, saying the gym was mine and they weren’t going to sign anything. They were gone, but I was pretty sure someone had stayed behind to sit outside my hospital room door.

I was finally alone, talking to a tape recorder that was easily as old as I was, telling my story in hopes I would figure out an ending that wouldn’t devastate the people I love.





THE NEXT MORNING, Henry arrived at my hospital room first. I almost didn’t recognize him. His hair was gone, just like mine, and only a shadow of stubble remained.

“Henry! Is that you, man?”

“It’s me,” he whispered, nodding. He looked troubled. Obviously, Millie or Moses had explained a few things to him. I wished they hadn’t, but I guess there was no way around it. I had hoped they would let him believe I was only here because of the fight. I didn’t want him worrying about the rest of it.