I T WAS A slow night at Charlie’s Bar, even though the
snow had melted days ago. The warm front brought
with it a slight drizzle and mist hugged the neon sign
in the window, making it barely legible from the street.
Levi nursed his beer for so long that it was now
hovering around room temperature and, thus,
undrinkable. So he left it half empty. “Or is it half full?”
he wondered.
Charles was supposed to take a break thirty minutes
ago but he’d left Levi in a holding pattern. Maybe he
was still upset about Levi turning down the offer. That
was the thing with Charles: if you didn’t give him what
he wanted, his interest in you quickly waned.
“Or maybe the guy’s just busy,” Levi considered.
“After all, he was the one who called and asked me to
stop by.”
173
His gaze was drawn to the flat TV mounted crudely
on the wall, wires left exposed to flow out the back and
down the chipped, green wood paneling that encased
the room. A serious-faced reporter talked about the
latest rumor on the street, that the tide of a full-on
citizen revolt was rising. Levi knew things had been
escalating but with enough problems of his own, he’d
had little energy, or time, for tabloid gossip. Would the
city, and the nation, shortly go up in flames? Would
police show up in riot gear to face down those deemed
domestic terrorists? It’s not that Levi didn’t care about
what was going on around him; he was just tired of it
all.
The dissidents had some legitimate complaints, but
they seemed all too willing to smack someone over the
head with a bat at a moment’s notice. The police, he
knew, had their own bats and had grown frustrated
with defending themselves from randomly appearing
mobs. They, too, sometimes went overboard and a
death or two usually occurred as a result.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, bud,” Charles said,
sliding into the booth in front of him. “Had to fire
someone. You know how to bartend?”
“Afraid not,” Levi answered.
174
Charles saw his half-finished beer and should’ve
known before asking. He fiddled with a salt shaker.
Levi noticed that Charles was chewing on an idea.
“So,” Levi began. “What’s up?”
“When we spoke the other day… you know, about
the thing. Are you sure about your decision? I mean
one hundred percent sure you want to turn this
down?”
“I’m sure,” Levi confirmed.
Charles stopped fiddling and set the salt shaker back
down onto the table. He looked at Levi squarely. “I
don’t understand you, Levi, but I respect you. You’re
the toughest bastard I’ve ever run across. And by far
the most stubborn.”
Levi shrugged as if to say What do you expect? , took
a sip of his warm beer and felt like vomiting. He spit it
back into the glass and offered Charles a slightly
humored grin.
Charles shook his head. “Of all the fighters I ever
managed, you — by far — make the worst drinking
buddy.”
“If I’d known you were going to open a bar I would’ve
practiced more.”
Charles glanced around the room, saw that it was
completely dead, and considered closing it up for the
175
night. It was clear to him that Levi wasn’t changing his
mind.
“Did you tell that promoter yet?” Levi asked.
“He came by, yeah. Didn’t take the news very well
either. What can I say, you’re still a huge draw in some
parts. If I could do what you do, I’d be all over that
deal. But it’s your life, bud. I’m sure you have your
reasons.”
“I do,” Levi said after a pause. “But I have to admit,
the idea of all that attention — to get it all back again
— it was tempting. Even more than that, the promise
of an uncomplicated life sure seemed nice.”
“Yeah,” Charles sighed. “I told the guy you were
having cold feet about getting back in the ring after so
long. I didn’t know what else to say.”
“Did he buy it?”
“Heck, I don’t know. Like I said, the guy was starting
to get angry and I just wanted him out of the bar as
quickly as possible. Guy was creeping me out too. Had
this weird energy about him and I kind of suspect he’s
got mob connections… like, foreign ones. Felt like
saying, ‘Get a suit, man. What kind of promoter wears
a friggin’ trench coat with a hood? I know you got
money.’ Must be a European thing.”
176
The ensuing silence was palpable. Levi felt his face
getting warm. “Charles, was your promoter… tall? Say,
maybe six-three or -four?”
Charles looked surprised. “Yeah, yeah. He was a tall
guy. Pale face. Drove a nice Mercedes with dark
windows. Why, you know him?”
• • •
The streets seemed strangely quiet on the drive
home. Levi’s phone buzzed and he remembered that he
was supposed to have returned it to Russell. He hit talk
and heard Jenny’s voice.
“Violet wants me to tell you something.”
“Why can’t she tell me herself?” Levi asked.
Levi then heard that mousy voice in the background.
“I got a job!”
Levi flashed a grin. He found her excitement pretty
cute.
“Well,” he said, “welcome to the workforce, kid.”
“Yep,” Jenny said. “Violet is now a proud member of
the Taco House family.”
“Does that mean I get free grub?” he asked.
“She’s shaking her head yes.”
Levi had a strong urge to turn his car around. There
was an excitement, a warmth, radiating from Jenny’s
177
voice that he found inviting. And adorable. In another
life, they would’ve made a pretty good little family.
Dev was, for the most part, out of their lives. No
more messages on the doorway, no more tapping or
howling wind beating against his window. He knew
Levi meant business now and probably figured the deal
with Charles was his last chance to trap him. No
wonder Dev was so ticked-off. The veil had been
removed and Dev’s tricks would no longer be effective.
By this point, Levi simply knew too much. And it was
nice knowing that he’d won that fight without throwing
a single punch.
“Mind if I come over?” Levi asked.
“You want to come over?” Jenny responded. “Like,
now?”
“It’s too late. You’re right.”
“No, no,” she said quickly. “It’s only, what, eleven. Do
you have a change of clothes?”
“It’s all right,” he said. “I’m off tomorrow. So are you.
Remember?”
“I think it’s a good idea,” she said. “Violet wants to
talk your ear off anyway.”
“No I don’t!” came that mousy voice in the
background.
It was a bizarre thought to him but there was
something familiar about all of this. His mind traveled
178
back to Amanda and their too-quick engagement. The
attraction had been fierce, and he missed the feeling of
having someone to desire. Amanda’s affection for him
had been rather bewitching. She hadn’t been like the
rest. She was intelligent, made good conversation,
actually had good taste in music, and best of all — she
made him feel like a hero. A voice in his head echoed
the words, I miss you.
Then he remembered the betrayal, how quickly she
turned cold in his darkest hour. “It was your mistake,”
she’d told him. “Hitting that guy was your decision. I
can’t live like this, Levi. Just do your time and we’ll see
what happens.” He didn’t think much of that offer,
having been sentenced to life in prison. But he couldn’t
blame her either. A heavy sadness remained over him
like a perpetual gray cloud. “Why couldn’t things have
turned out differently?” he thought.
“So I’ll see you soon,” Jenny said.
And the cloud lifted, for the moment.
• • •
Violet played with the purple feather in her hair
while wired into Jenny’s laptop, listening to bubble
gum pop music. Jenny opened the apartment door to
welcome Levi inside. They were glad to see one
179
another. He smiled and put his utility bag in a chair.
Jenny saw that he’d brought the lamp with him, still
not sure why the man invested so much energy in
looking after it. The last time she’d seen it, Levi had
flown into a rage and thrown it into his bag before
carrying Violet to the hospital.
A recent, and brief, conversation with Russell was
the only thing that kept her from thinking Levi had lost
his marbles completely. Russell didn’t say much to her,
but the look on his face when she’d asked him about
Levi’s lamp confirmed to her that an incident, some
kind of weird thing, had definitely happened. Russell
had said something about it being pretty valuable
before quickly changing the subject. Jenny already
wanted to believe Levi’s story, so that had been enough
to convince her there was something to it. But surely
the thing couldn’t heal people.
Violet smiled in acknowledgement of Levi and said,
“Jenny said you were a famous boxer once. Now I know
what Matt was always going on about.”
“I don’t get recognized much anymore,” he said.
“Better that way.”
Jenny turned to Violet and said, “I saw him knock a
guy out in like two minutes to become a world
champion.”
180
“Please,” he said, not wanting to remind himself of
what he’d given up.
“What’s it like to be famous?” Violet asked with big
eyes.
Jenny saw a troubled look wash over his face,
despite a weak effort on his part to hide it. “Why don’t
we let him rest for a bit,” she advised Violet.
The three of them watched a movie on cable and Levi
fell asleep on the arm of the couch midway through.
Jenny motioned to Violet and they got up gingerly to
avoid awakening him, flipped the TV off, and retreated
quietly to their rooms.
• • •
Jenny thought about Ryan as she lay in bed, unable
to sleep. Their friends had always referred to them as
the cute couple, which she hated. They’d met at work.
He was a lawyer, the new guy at the firm. She had just
been hired to handle the phones and mail after
completing her degree is business administration. The
attraction was instant, the conversation always sharp
and enjoyable. Jenny had no desire to marry young,
but she set aside the fear of leaping forward, and told
him that yes, of course she would marry him. The
marriage was not easy and the first year was especially
181
tough. After that, she felt they were able to fall into a
pleasant groove and her love for him grew intensely.
Lying in bed, on nights such as this, Ryan would often
say things like, “What if something were to ever
happen to me? Would you remarry?” She’d always felt
uncomfortable
about
his
morose
hypothetical
questions and refused to answer until he begged. “Of
course not,” she’d always say, meaning it. “I don’t even
want to think about that, Ryan.”
The call from her boss had startled her. He never
called her at home so this was most unusual — had
something happened? She soberly listened as he
explained to her that Ryan had collapsed over lunch
and despite a mad rush to the emergency room, had
died.
“I’m sorry, Jenny. Ryan is no longer with us. None of
us are sure what happened right now. The medic who
worked on him said we would know more after the
autopsy.”
Autopsy? The word made no sense to her. She had
plans with Ryan that evening. It was date night…
dinner at Carmine’s Italian and a movie… this time
she’d even decided to let him pick the show… no chick
flick was the rule. What was he talking about an
autopsy for? Numbness struck her first, a wave of heat
flooding her face, followed by a tingle that traveled her
182
skin from foot to head. She knew what was being said,
that her husband was dead, but none of that was real.
It was as if she were watching someone else get a
devastating phone call from across the room.
“Jenny,” the voice on the phone said, “we’re all here
if you need anything.”
If I need anything?! My husband is dead and I get no
warning? No time to prepare for the news? What do I
do now, go to the hospital and claim his corpse? What
the hell is going on?
It took two nerve-racking weeks to get the news
back. Ryan had stage four cancer, and never even
knew he was sick. Sure, there were colds and
shortness of breath, but he worked in a stressful
profession. Lawyers sometimes even develop heart
palpitations or other weird anomalies because of the
work. Jenny had told him, on numerous occasions, to
take a leave of absence or at least get a checkup. Being
young, and able to rationalize the occasional physical
hiccups, he would just tell her not to worry or she’d
end up like him, sick and exhausted from stress.
Jenny hated the fact that sometimes Levi reminded
her of her husband. And when she mentioned to Levi
that he should get his head checked out, she wasn’t
throwing out casual insults. Even though Levi took it
as a low blow, she often worried that Levi was literally
183
sick from all of the head trauma. At least Violet’s
ailment was more obvious. It’s hard to deny a girl is
sick when she’s spitting up blood and unable to stand.
But Levi, she suspected, suffered a more subtle, more
insidious sickness — that of the brain. It wasn’t his
fault, she knew. A lot of boxers end up confused and
on the verge of dementia.
But that look from Russell, when she’d asked him
about the lamp, that look threw her into an entirely
new realm of uncertainty. What if nothing was wrong
with Levi? What if he protects that lamp because it really
does hold some kind of power? Jenny drifted off to
sleep with that question resting on her brain.
184