CHAPTER 27
Cora Chapman
A FEW MORE WEEKS HAD passed. I’d only seen Logan at school and he answered me with the bare minimum of words. It broke my heart every single time. “Yes, Ma’am. Yes, Ms. Chapman.”
I hadn’t just sent my parents and Landon from the house. I’d sent him out too. I missed him. My little helper whose eyes would light up any time I said his name.
I missed Landon’s arms wrapped around me. I missed Janet and Joe.
And I did what I said I wasn’t going to do anymore. Backed down when times got tough. My mother knew where I was vulnerable, and she went for the jugular. I thought we’d had a breakthrough, but I’d kidded myself. People didn’t change. Maybe for a moment, but not for the long-term. They always went back to who they were. Mom turned into her old self, and I did too.
I was a runner. I needed to accept it before I hurt Landon even worse. He didn’t need the distraction.
Why did I come back to this fucking place?
I needed to let Landon train. Let things die down. He had another fight, tonight. I told myself earlier in the day I wouldn’t watch it, but there I was at eight p.m. on my couch, in my pajamas. Couldn’t turn away from the television.
I needed to see him. Even if he was a thousand miles away on a television screen. I would get my fix and then will myself to stay away so he could focus on his family.
I flipped the TV on and the announcers popped up on the screen after a commercial.
“Hello everybody, Bob Godwin here with George Lewis for WMMA 146!”
“The crowd is packed at the MGM here in Las Vegas, Nevada. Full house.”
“It’s incredible. People seem to be taking more to Lane than Sid, even though Kayzo obliterated his last opponent. Perhaps it’s the mystery behind him and his manager the fans have dubbed The Terminator. Lane seems more human. The ghost. The enigma. People are calling him The Red Death after the Edgar Allan Poe story. He walks into the room and destroys. It’s remarkable.”
“You know—nobody’s ever seen anything like this before. We watch Sid destroy opponents and he doesn’t speak, but he has a whole team of publicists and is always standing in front of a camera glaring. Lane fights for StrikeForce and we don’t see him with anyone other than the man in the glasses. It’s indescribable. Nobody knows where he came from, though sources tell us they’ve found him in a small town in Montana just outside Missoula where StrikeForce headquarters is located. Nobody knew who he was before. But tonight, he has his hands full, for certain. Ty Webster, the human pitbull himself. Different style than Kane. A new test. I don’t know, what do you think?”
“Well, hah! I mean, we didn’t see much of Lane last time. There’s a chance he just landed that once in a lifetime haymaker, maybe got lucky, but I don’t know. I’ll tell you what, if I was Webster, I might just say an extra prayer. Because Lane marched out of that ring last time like it was business as usual. Like he’s done it a million times. You don’t get lucky and react like that. A lucky guy jumps around, celebrates. He doesn’t march out unsatisfied like he wants to go tear down a building like King Kong. And the fans are already calling for a fight with Sid. It’s the number one trending topic on all social media around the world!”
“Indeed. I think we’d all love to see that fight. I can’t help but agree with them. Oh, and here comes Webster now. Not usually known as a trash talker, he’s stayed quiet all week leading up to this fight. Webster is a veteran at 32 years old. He doesn’t really excel in one particular area, but is above average across the board. Very well-liked and respected in the WMMA community.”
“And the electricity is building. It’s like they’re waiting for that Jimi Hendrix guitar riff after the Mitch Mitchell drums. You can feel the energy in the air like gas waiting to ignite. And there it goes—this place is roaring. I’m surprised people can even hear us talking at home. It is absolutely insane in here. Bedlam even.”
“Yep, and it’s like de ja vu. Lane’s got the StrikeForce robe on and stalks in with The Terminator next to him. God, is he intense. He’s like a machine from the future or something. Straight out of a science fiction novel and built like a Sherman tank, this guy. We go live now to referee, Jimmy Stevens.”
“All right, fellas. You know the drill. Have a clean fight. Tap gloves and let’s do this.”
“Lane shows Webster a little more respect than Kane received during the glove tap last time. Perhaps it’s because he knows Webster is a respected veteran?”
“Yeah, that’d be my guess. Webster didn’t talk about putting him in the hospital all week before the fight. To Kane’s credit, I think he may have bit his tongue a little more if he’d seen Lane fight previously, but yeah, it’s not Webster’s style ever. The man is beloved by fans and fighters across the board.”
“I hate to interrupt, but there goes the hand signal from Stevens and the fight is under way. The two fighters stalk out to the middle, hands up. Circling, circling, and—”
“Ohh! My God, did you see that? DID YOU SEE THAT? Landon Lane has knocked out two men, in less than twenty seconds. Webster went maybe an extra three seconds with him as they did a half circle. Webster clearly planned for a left hand. But Lane comes with a left anyway and just destroys Webster!”
“Look at the replay. Holy—he knocked him out through his guard. Oh wow. I’ve seen a lot of things folks, but this, just—c’mon. It’s not even fair, look at that! Webster’s technique is flawless. He does everything right. Straight textbook fighting. He adjusts and thinks he’s blocking a strike from Lane, and Lane knocks him out anyway through his arm. Just jars Webster’s gloved hand and forearm straight into his head. The raw power it took for him to do that was just, it’s unnatural. I’ve never seen anything like that in my life! There’s something magical about Lane. It’s like he’s larger than life. Like watching Babe Ruth knock the cover off a baseball or call his shot in the World Series.”
“And look at that. Just like last time, Lane is nowhere to be found. Walked right out after the punch and disappeared with his manager. The Terminator doesn’t flip the bird and the crowd actually seems a little disappointed about it. And I just don’t believe what we just saw. Landon Lane has a record of two wins and no losses, both wins by knockout, and less than twenty seconds of total fight time under his belt. One thing is for certain, his first fight was definitely not a fluke.”
My heart tried to leap out of my chest. “Yes!” I fist pumped on my couch, alone.
I clutched a pillow to my chest and bit my lip as I watched Landon on the screen. He was so powerful. I looked around at my empty house.
A shock of nerves ripped through me within seconds. I pictured Logan, jumping up and down on his couch, rooting for his dad. I should’ve been there. What was I doing? Why was life so damn complicated?
When two people love each other that’s all that should matter. The rest of the world needed to move over and let us be happy. I sat there for a few minutes, staring blankly at the TV screen. It didn’t do any good to think about a utopian world, or a perfect paradigm where our love could exist. The real world didn’t work that way. Most of the time it felt like a zero-sum game. In order to love one person, you had to hurt someone else.
I needed to figure things out. I’d spent my entire life in purgatory, afraid to make decisions, waffling between choices. I couldn’t sit on the fence this time. The next month or so until Landon’s big fight might be his last days with Logan. Would I embrace that and be a part of it? Or just let him be? What if I had another breakdown? Unlikely, considering I might not ever speak to my mother again. But I’d already promised him I wasn’t going anywhere and then I’d broken it.
What are you doing to yourself?
I sat and contemplated. I couldn’t be trusted. Sure, when we were high and things were good, we soared. Our love rocketed into orbit. But when we were down—and I knew we would hit rock bottom again, maybe even crash harder—I was a runner. Too much time had passed. I couldn’t mess with his head more than I already had. I had to accept it. He had too much going on. I couldn’t keep my toe dipped halfway in the pool, ready to turn on a dime and run. If I really loved him, I had to stay away from him. I just had to.