21 January 1982
A Semi-Voluntary Occasion
“I’m not going,” Nat said.
He sat at the breakfast table, stirring the honey and cinnamon into his oatmeal. And stirring. And stirring. And stirring. He looked as though he were trying to guard the bowl, the way he hunched his upper body over it. But unfortunately his posture was nothing out of the ordinary. Nathan had noticed that the young man never went to the trouble of sitting up straight any more.
Nathan sighed deeply. “I was sincerely hoping it wouldn’t come to this,” he said. “But I guess it has. I’ve been supporting you for several years now. I financed your boxing career—”
“What there was of it.”
“… I paid all the medical bills your insurance didn’t cover. I’ve driven you back and forth to physical therapy for the better part of two years. I didn’t do it for thanks, and I never thought I would throw it up at you like this. But the truth remains that I have done a great deal for you, and asked very little in return. I asked you to go hunting once, because I thought you might enjoy it, and this morning I’m asking you to go see the new boxing gym with me.”
“Not even really that new,” Nat said. Still stirring.
“All the more reason it’s high time for you to go.”
“So that’s it. I got no choice.”
“No. You do have a choice. We always have choices in life. I’m not forcing you to go. I’m asking you to. And reminding you that I ask very little of you.”
Nat dropped his forehead into his left hand, still stirring. It was only when Nat sighed dramatically that Nathan knew he had prevailed.
? ? ?
“Hey, it’s Nat!” Manny practically shouted. “Look everybody. It’s Nat.”
“Everybody” consisted of nine young men, working out on bags, weight-lifting, or sparring with each other in the ring. And none of them could possibly have known Nat. So it seemed an odd bit of theatrics to Nathan.
And he knew Nat did not like the attention. Not one bit.
As they stood just inside the doorway, Manny began to applaud. Eight out of nine of the young men followed suit, for no apparent reason. As if someone had turned on an applause sign. People tend to do as they’re told, Nathan thought.
The ninth young man, the non-applauder, said, “Who the hell is Nat?”
Manny strode three steps across the gym floor and cuffed him on the ear. “Show a little respect. This place wouldn’t even exist without Nat.”
Nathan winced inwardly. He had been hoping to avoid that direct connection.
The applause had withered and died now, leaving Nathan and the reluctant Nat standing awkwardly, all eyes fixed on them.
“Besides,” Manny said. “Nat used to be a hell of a fighter in his day.”
A second strong flinch reaction in Nathan’s gut. In his day?
“Not that his day was so long ago,” Manny said quickly. Awkwardly attempting to mop up the mistake. “Not like he’s old or anything. I just mean, he was. A hell of a fighter.”
“So what happened to him?” the non-applauder asked. Nat turned his head toward Nathan and spoke quietly. “I’ll just wait outside,” he said.
The door swung closed behind him, with an audible whoosh and a blast of frigid air.
When Nathan looked around again, Manny was standing right in front of him.
“Guess that didn’t go so good,” the little man said.
“Or we could look on the bright side. I got him in here. Finally. After all this time. Even if I only made it stick for about thirty seconds.”
“That Tony kid’s not what you might call long on diplomacy. Then again, I gave him the opening. So I guess I’m not the big expert, either.”
“I’d better go see how Nat’s doing,” Nathan said.
He found the young man out back, sitting on the snowy bottom of the fire escape stairway, his knees drawn up, his head resting in the cradle of his arms.
Nathan approached slowly, and sat down beside him. For a time, neither spoke.
Then Nat said, “What did he mean when he said there wouldn’t be a gym without me?”
Nathan didn’t answer, because he could not think of an answer that seemed either useful or constructive.
“So, the whole point of this place was to get me out of the house. Right? Get me working again? What am I supposed to do? Mop the sweat off the floor at closing time?”
“We thought you could use your knowledge of the sport to advantage.”
“To whose advantage? A bunch of guys who are going to go on and do what I can’t? And how am I supposed to get down here? You want me to ride the bus to this place every day? You think I’m going out in public, talking like I do? Walking like this?”
“Yes,” Nathan said. “I do.”
“Well, that’s easy for you to say.”
“You have to have some kind of life, Nat. I feel like I’m not helping you any more by allowing you to lie in front of the TV all day. I’m starting to feel like I’m hurting you by supporting that. Whatever you think your shortcomings are … you can’t just lock yourself in the house so no one can notice or comment. We all have to take ourselves out into the world, flaws and all. And find a way to make the adjustment.”
“Could you take me home?”
Nathan sighed. “All right. We’ll go home for now.”
? ? ?
About halfway through the drive, Nat startled him by speaking.
“Maybe one of these days we could go hunting,” he said.
The comment surprised Nathan so much that it took him several beats to answer.
“What brought that idea on?”
“Well, you mentioned it earlier. You said the only other thing you asked of me was to try hunting. But I really didn’t try it that day.”
“You don’t have to go hunting with me just because—”
“No, I want to,” Nat said. “Really. I’ll give it a try.”
No more was said for a time, and it struck Nathan that too many more questions might qualify as looking the proverbial gift horse in its proverbial mouth.
“It’s true,” Nat said. “You don’t ask much of me. I never really thought about it like that. Until you said it. But it’s true.”
Nathan cleared his throat before speaking. “Unfortunately, the season is over now. And it won’t open again until the fall.”
“Oh,” Nat said. “Well. I guess that’s OK. I guess we’ll both still be here in the fall.”
“Yes,” Nathan said. “I suppose we will.”
11 October 1982
Mandatory Emotional Responses
Nathan stood outside the door of the shabby little apartment over the gym. The one right next door to Manny Schultz’s. Before he could even raise his hand to knock, the door swung open and Nat stuck his head out.
“I’m all ready,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically eager. “I got a little bag packed right here. Just let me get it. And let me get a leash on Feathers. And then I’m all ready to go.”
? ? ?
“How is it working out living over the gym?” Nathan asked on the drive home.
“OK, I guess. Nice short commute time. There’s never any food, though, like there was at your house. If I want something to eat I gotta go out for it. And the dog drives me nuts. I’m used to just opening the back door for him. Now every time he needs to go out I gotta put on my shoes and my coat and put a leash on him and take him out for a walk. Even if he gets the bright idea in the middle of the night. But it’s OK, I guess. If it wasn’t for him I’d probably never breathe any fresh air. Not that the air downtown is all that fresh.”
“Your speech sounds good.”
“Slow, though.”
“It doesn’t even sound that slow to me.”
“Sounds slow from in here. It’s so much work. I say that much and I need a nap.”
They drove for a while without speaking. Nathan found himself inwardly gearing up for his next statement. He was surprised to notice a trace of butterflies. He was not usually given to butterflies.
“I saw Carol yesterday,” Nathan said.
Nat’s head snapped around, but then he caught himself and looked out the window again. He didn’t answer for a time. Then he said, “You just happened to run into her?”
“No. We had lunch. We have lunch about once a month or so.”
“So you can talk about me?”
“No. Because she felt she had a friendship with me, and she didn’t want to lose that. But it occurred to both of us that you might take it that way. Which is why I haven’t said anything up until now. Carol didn’t want me to say anything at all. But I didn’t feel comfortable with that. I like to be …”
“Forthcoming?”
“Yes,” Nathan said. “Exactly. I like to be forthcoming.”
“Well. I guess I can’t tell either one of you who to be friends with.” Nat looked out the window in silence for a block or two. Then he said, “Is she seeing somebody?”
Nathan opened his mouth to speak but never got the chance.
“Never mind. Don’t answer that. I’m sorry. I guess that was none of my business. Let’s talk about something else.”
So Nathan was simultaneously spared from, and deprived of having to say, no. She isn’t. Rightly or wrongly, she’s waiting for you to come to your senses.
Nat supplied the something else. “Anybody else you talk to behind my back?”
“Well, your grandmother still calls me. Once a month or so. After all these years.”
He glanced over at Nat in the ensuing silence. Watched him reclaim and close his open lower jaw.
“I’m surprised.”
“Once a grandmother, always a grandmother, I suppose.”
“And what do you tell her? Do you tell her private things about me?”
“Now how would I even know private things about you?” Nathan asked.
It was a question that never received an answer.
? ? ?
Just as he was turning out the light for bed, Nathan heard Nat call to him from his old bedroom.
“Nathan?”
He put on a robe and went into the young man’s room.
“Yes, Nat?”
“I was just wondering if you were going to come in and pull up a chair like you used to always do before bed. I mean, before I got married, that is.”
“Do you want me to?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Nathan pulled the straight-backed cane chair around to face the bed, and settled himself into it.
“So, what time do we have to get up?” Nat asked. “Like four?”
“Maybe I’ll go easy on you and let you sleep until four fifteen or four thirty.”
“Gee, thanks.”
An awkward silence. They hadn’t talked like this for so long. In the old days, Nathan seemed to recall that he would ask various questions about the young man’s life. But he couldn’t seem to produce anything now. “Anything in particular on your mind, Nat?”
“Just the job, I guess.”
“Are you physically up to it?”
“Oh, yeah. Physically, it’s fine.”
“What part of it isn’t fine?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I can explain it. It’s like I know how everybody thinks I should feel. Like Little Manny. He always wanted to be a fighter. But he wasn’t built for it. So he taught other people how to fight. And it seems like that’s OK with him. Like he gets some kind of satisfaction out of watching somebody else get what he wanted. And I know everybody wants me to feel that way.”
“But you don’t.”
“No. I don’t. I hate it. I’m jealous of those guys. Every day. Even the ones that aren’t good. At least they get their shot. I try not to show it. But it just chews at me. All the time.”
“Hmm. All I know is that you can’t force yourself to feel something you don’t.”
“Is there something wrong with me, Nathan?”
“I doubt it. I think you just need more time.”
“Yeah. Maybe so. Maybe that’s it. I just need more time.”