The Boxer's Dreams of Love Read online

  piecing pieces that wouldn’t fit. He wanted to go straight home, take Edie

  out of there, not sure why. Manny had been at the fight a few weeks back,

  that’s why he was in Edinburgh, so he stayed on a little bit. The bar was

  the kind of place Manny would go. Trying to rationalize why Manny was

  just sitting across the road. Eddie had given them everything, what more

  could they fucking want? Dishes crashed from his hand as his mind was

  elsewhere. He was screamed at, they’d take it from his tiny wages again. In

  that long night, the devastating heat from the ovens eating into his brain,

  he’d already decided to leave the place. Take a fight somewhere, anything.

  Go back to Dublin, what did it matter now? If they followed him here, they

  could follow him back home again.

  The shift finally ended, he crawled out like a rat. The bar was still

  open across the street, no faces at the window. He did everything but the

  right thing in the next few minutes. She was waiting for him, even asleep

  she was waiting. But he pulled the door of the bar open and regret was

  standing there in front of him. Manny was slipping on his coat, searching

  the pockets for something. A few dead souls still lurked in the recesses.

  Manny raised a hand of goodbye to someone Eddie couldn’t see. He

  looked at Eddie as if he was a stray dog. He pushed past him, headed down

  the rusty road. Taken by surprise Eddie stood where he was for a minute

  too long, Manny already turning down a side street.

  Eddie felt the pain in his leg as he ran, Manny fading into the

  darkness as he caught up with him.

  ‘Hey. It’s me. Manny?’ Of course he knew. Manny finally stopped,

  turned, flipped a cigarette in his mouth, watching it burn.

  ‘Eddie, what can I do for you?’ Nothing more than that, no emotion

  whatsoever in his voice.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Here? I was just having a few drinks.’

  ‘You know what I mean. What are you doing in Edinburgh?’ ‘Taking a short break. Nice place. You’re living here now, ain’t you?

  You skipped out of Cork without saying goodbye.’ Manny’s heart was

  hardly breaking sweat while Eddie’s was on its second straight marathon. ‘You just happen to come to Edinburgh. And you just happen to be

  drinking across from where I work.’ Manny shrugged in agreement. ‘I also

  saw you at the fight a few weeks back,’ Eddie continued, banging his head

  against a brick wall. Manny had apparently had acting lessons when he

  stopped boxing.

  ‘Always liked the fights. Now that I can’t fight, the best I can do is

  watching other people. Like you. Pity about Charlie wasn’t it? Still it was

  coming. At least he went out winning.’

  Eddie stared, open mouthed, he was having to think too much, too

  quickly.

  ‘What is it, Eddie? Have I done something wrong? Upset you in some

  way? Sorry if it bothers you that I’m here. I hope to be back in Cork very

  soon, out of this fucking place.’

  ‘Thought you said it was nice.’

  ‘Sure, but there’s no place like home is there?’ Manny was turning on

  his heels, anxious to be gone. Think, Eddie, think. They’re playing you,

  play fucking back, do something, anything. ‘Eddie, it’s late, I’m tired. You

  look tired. Go home. Maybe we can have a drink in a couple of days.

  Alright?’ He was turning, going, leaving, leaving it hanging in the wind,

  leaving a deepening mystery, wrapping layers of fog around hapless Eddie. ‘Wait, Manny, wait. No, it ain’t all fucking right, not in the fucking

  least. The money, Manny, you remember that? You stole my money. Or

  that fucker did, who works for you and you work for. For who is it now?’

  In this light it was hard to see if Manny was sweating, breaking, thinking

  confused thoughts himself.

  ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’

  Eddie felt himself get ready, the body tensing, muscles tightening,

  crouching slightly, preparing for the onslaught. Oddly, Manny put his

  hands up, in surrender, confession, what?

  ‘Listen I don’t know what’s going on with you. Maybe Charlie hit

  you harder than you think, your mind’s messed up, you’re thinking weird fucking paranoid things. Go home, Eddie, you’re exhausted, I wanna fucking piss so badly. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s wrong, okay? Eddie.

  What money?’

  ‘At the airport.’

  ‘The airport? What is that, a clue or something?’

  ‘The money was—’ Stop. Why tell Manny something he already

  knew? Eddie was way behind in this game. Screw with your head chess

  and he always hated games. Nothing that required thinking. Eddie was

  exhausted, Manny was right about that. From everything, tired of

  everything. Everybody.

  ‘So, can I go now, Eddie? Get some sleep, knock yourself out for a

  couple of days. Let’s have that drink. I’m staying at the Thistle, far end of

  Princes. Okay? Swear to God there’s nothing going on here Eddie. I’ll be

  honest with you, okay? Heard you were here, heard about the fight, it’s a

  small world, our world. I came over here to see you, I admit, to see you

  fight. See you lose, maybe. A little bit cruel but you would have felt the

  same way about me. Wouldn’t you?’ A minute ago Manny was all set to

  leave, couldn’t wait to get away, but now he was back, eyes and mind clear

  and the tongue was taking everything in a new direction. Manny the blind

  innocent was now honest Manny the confessor, laying out his bleeding

  heart sins, spinning a story for all he was worth.

  ‘I felt sorry for you in there. I bet against you, I admit. I know the

  fight was probably rigged anyway. We’ve all done it, no shame in making

  money. I mean, Charlie fucking Higson, we’re all sorry for the guy but he

  was a walking funeral.’

  ‘What do you do, Manny?’ Eddie interrupted.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, your job, what exactly is it?’

  Manny speeding train of thought stuttered to a halt, the train fuelled

  by the Train of Delights was running on empty. He resorted to a desperate

  smile. ‘I do whatever I have to, Eddie.’

  ‘First honest thing you’ve said tonight, Manny.’

  ‘Second, Eddie. I did bet against you.’

  Sarah Zinny, no more Sarah Zinny woke from a dream she didn’t want to remember. The ceiling, the long tubular light, the far bare, stale wall. This wasn’t her own place. She had strayed from one nightmare to another. She was somehow attached to a machine, tubes ran out of her arm, her skin, liquid flowing, jagged lines on a screen that seemed like her very breath. White gown, white sheets, she knew that she couldn’t move her body even before she tried.

  There was a man sitting in a chair across the room. Asleep. Shaven head, leather jacket, the hard look of a hard man, who didn’t think for himself because it didn’t pay him to. She knew the face but not the name. There were a million little worker ants like him around, she hated him even though she didn’t know him. She was starting to remember but she didn’t want to, she turned her head even though it hurt her to do so. The lines on the screen were flickering, like her own breath, flattening, she could feel sweat on her brow, watched everything in the room begin to blur, merge into one single image of nothing. A siren call, the shaven head is waking, w
oken by the alarm of the machine and the girl’s eyes rolling in the back of her head, her body arching, trying to lift itself from the hospital bed.

  Sarah’s body relaxed as her spirit floated free, the lines on the machine now flat, her very breath just a quiet distant breeze which slowly died away.

  Edie’s last performance In the shell of a building she vomited what little she had eaten in the last twenty four hours. An abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of a city neither knew. They had started early, he’d been worried about the car, sure it was going to break down. She woke that morning with the thinnest of smiles and heavy frayed eyes that had seen nightmares in rollercoaster rotation. Sipped tea, kept avoiding his glances and his carefully framed questions that were all for her concern. In his heart he wanted to stop it going ahead, she wasn’t fit for purpose, she could hardly sing to herself yet, let alone to a roomful of drunken strangers. But here she was, more nervous than ever, but not about the gig and that was the hell of it. That was the mystery, there was something else behind it. She couldn’t have known of his own troubles, troubles that even mystified him. There was a black panic at the heart of her soul, he saw the reflection of an abyss behind her vacant gaze. She ate little, excused herself from the table as if she was a child, showered, dressed and packed her clothes for the night very carefully. Folding, re-folding, she took her pills last of all before they headed off. The car started at the first attempt which was something at least. He had planned to get there earlier and treat it like a day out, for her. He wasn’t used to being with her when she was working and perhaps it was always like this. But he doubted it.

  On the outskirts of Glasgow he heard first a low moan escape from her. He looked over at her and tears were streaming down her face. In her hands the crumpled sheets of lyrics long remembered.

  ‘Stop,’ she said. In the industrial wasteland, chemical plant long deserted, acres of playground for the lost, Edie ran without purpose. He followed behind, unable to sense or see her destination. She went until she could go no further and in the roofless warehouse she kneeled, keeled over and tried to wash it clean from her system. He moved closer, then stood back, hesitated, confused. Anger took over, anger at the world that had brought her here, brought him here to see this.

  He cradled her, whispered in her ear. ‘You can’t go through with this, Edie. I’ll take you home.’ He attempted to pull her to her feet. She stiffened, pulled away, frightened.

  ‘No!,’ she screamed as if he was trying to assault her. She scrambled to her feet, ran blind to all corners of this place that no longer served any purpose.

  No words accompanied the next scream. It echoed far beyond. It was another twenty minutes before he could escort her back to the car. Even there he dared not start the engine lest she lose her senses again. Her body, her soul relaxed, finally.

  ‘I have to go through with it, Eddie. Can’t let him down. Or myself.’

  ‘You’re not well enough. Look at you. Edie? I know what this means to you. I do.’

  ‘Do you know what it was? What I was scared of? Of this, of not doing it, because I might never do it again. The devil is working at us, Eddie. I know how that sounds. Maybe the pills are putting these thoughts in my head. But look at you. There’s something you’re not telling me. You’ll say you’re just worried about me. But it’s not just that, is it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You want to tell me? What brought you here?’

  ‘You.’ Weak, weasel words that carried no conviction at all. She shook her head, smiled.

  ‘Typical man. Come on, let’s go. Can’t sit here all day, I hope the rest of Glasgow is nicer than this.’

  Pink-eyed punks with drug shot arms and purple veins crossed the road in front of them with nonchalant righteousness. Glasgow wasn’t getting much nicer. Cliché mixed with mixed emotions as Eddie searched in vain for a space to park. He had to park all day and nothing came free any more.

  The hotel was full of gimlet-eyed wanderers with freight-train arms and broken skin. The carpets were worn to exhaustion. The function room was functional at best. Eddie wanted to pull her away, spend all their remaining money on an expensive lunch in a place far, far away from this. She wasn’t having any of it, her mood had lifted, no, it had soared. Because there in front of her was a stage, wires, microphones, speakers, performers paraphernalia, all the candy in the sweetshop.

  She let go of his hand and walked through the room with church-like veneration. Climbed onto the temporary stage, held the microphone like a crutch, closed her eyes and stayed like that for several moments. Wondered where Tommy was, not even a text from him. Eddie stayed where he was at the back of the room. A young girl excused herself in a foreign accent as she pushed past with a vacuum cleaner.

  ‘Edie, come on. We’ll come back later. Plenty of time.’ No reply, afraid to open her eyes, be disconnected. She didn’t move, she started mouthing the words to a silent song. ‘Edie?’ His voice was drowned out by the noise of the hoover, and Edie woke up at last. Stared, glared at the young girl, then a softer look at Eddie.

  ‘Edie, we’ve loads of time. Let’s get a coffee.’ A black and white café, lounge leather seats and Mexican staff for some reason. Could have been anywhere. Edie’s hand shook as she lifted the huge mug of coffee. He laughed at the white moustache it left on her lip. She didn’t return the laugh. He didn’t want to ask her how she felt, the same fucking question asked a thousand times. Distract her, distraught her? He didn’t know what to do.

  ‘Is it always like this?’ He had to say something.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Are you always this nervous?’ She surprised him by smiling, lighting

  up her whole face.

  ‘I’m excited. Of course I’m nervous but I’m more excited. Can’t wait.

  But yeah, it’s always like this. It has to be. If you’re not nervous you’re

  dead. Weren’t you the same before a fight?’

  He thought of the last fight, Charlie standing bull-like over him. ‘Last

  fight I was fucking scared to be honest. Lost before I got in there even

  though I was supposed to. Do you miss them, Scott and the others?’ ‘Yeah. I do. More than I imagined. We never spoke much, on stage or

  off it. Rob was okay. I was just starting to get to know him and then, you

  know. I wish it was time to go on. I wish it was yesterday. I wish it was all

  over. Christ.’ She hung her head. ‘Why can’t we be normal, Eddie, eh?

  Have normal, boring jobs.’

  ‘I have a normal job, remember? And believe me, you don’t want

  one.’

  A kid started crying nearby. The mother looked about seventeen,

  weighed about the same. Looked at her child with such contempt, shot

  Eddie the same look when she caught his eyes. It struck him for the first

  time, like an upper cut from below the radar. They’d never talked about

  having kids. She’d never mentioned the subject, even in passing. Fatalistic figures in a chessboard café, Eddie and Edie carved out

  another hour of time, speaking in occasional dull remarks, figuring out life

  through the actions of the others that came and went around them. Away from them, away, across the road, a building scheduled for

  demolition, a gleaming architectural design promised what could be in its

  place, another cultural beacon for the young and rich and beautiful, where

  Manny now stood against the boarded up window. He read the message on

  his phone again. And again. How many years and here he was fighting

  Eddie still. He was winning this time though. Eddie was blindfold,

  shuffling in the dark, fighting opponents he couldn’t see, unable even to

  find the refuge of his corner. He had no corner. Manny had asked the

  question once and knew never to ask it again. If that’s what they said happened, then it happened. No profit
in doubt. Why was he watching them? He knew where they were going, where they’d be. Too easy, too soft, no pleasure stealing from those who didn’t have anything to give. As he lifted his eyes they were coming out of the café. She was pretty, he had to give Eddie that. More than he had himself. Maybe there was something worthwhile to steal after all. He watched them merge with the other pedestrians, lost them. He looked at his watch, hours to go. There was no point hanging on their shoulders all day. There was the hotel bar after all, in fact there was the mini bar in his room, even better, and a plasma screen with a hundred channels and porn to boot. The pleasure of piracy, the criminal comforts, this was higher living, at least it was a living. And in Mr. Zinny, Manny had finally found nirvana.

  Eddie sat in the armchair and watched the silent screen. He also watched her try to sleep in the middle of the afternoon. She had pleaded with him not to let her sleep too long. he doubted if she’d sleep at all. He allowed her, and himself, a small shot of bourbon, to ease the chaotic thoughts speeding through their brains. A half hour before she was due to wake he slipped in beside her. She nestled against him and they made a slow comfortable love that finally brought her some peace.

  He sat in the armchair again, waiting, while she prepared herself in the bathroom. He heard the shower, on and off. He heard her voice, soft and sweet, he heard her happiness. He was more nervous than she was now. Another snip of bourbon, a plate of crisps, some chocolate and he heard the bathroom door open. In a black dressing gown, she smiled and pleaded with him to leave her now.

  ‘I want to go down with you.’

  ‘No, please, I like to do this on my own.’

  ‘I wanted to see the dress on you, before anyone else.’

  ‘You can take it off later, how about that?’

  ‘Okay.’ He crossed the room, tasted her mouth, her breath, closed his

  eyes for a second and wanted to remain there. ‘I’ll see you afterwards. And—’ She put a finger on his lips.

  ‘Don’t wish me luck whatever you do.’ Eddie wandered lost though the endless labyrinthine shining corridors of the hotel, hideous orange pattern at his feet giving him a headache. He was uncomfortable in his shirt and jacket, still it was only for a couple of hours. He stood in the dense sweaty packed lift and guessed these men and women were going to the party downstairs. Their puffy glowing faces already stuffed with self-satisfaction long before they’d fill them again with drink and rubber food.