SOMNUS, Continued:
“Did you get a good night’s sleep?”
“As good as expected,” I replied. “You look nice tonight.”
“It’s nothing,” Marlene said, waving a hand and rearranging the napkin on her lap. She did look nice. She was wearing that purple top that made her chest look like Heaven, and just the right amount of eye-liner that caused her honey-colored irises to reach hypnotic levels. Marlene always made it a habit of looking better than the occasion required. We were in Red Lobster, and whereas I was wearing Jordans, she looked like THE Red Lobster himself would be joining us for dinner.
“No, you look amazing, Miss Vega,” I repeated, lightly grazing her hand with my fingertips.
“What d’you want to drink? You should have a glass of Cabernet, I heard red wine is good for fitness.”
I pulled my hand back and reached for a menu.
“I just want you to be on point,” she murmured, eyeing hers.
It was a Tuesday evening and there weren’t many people at the restaurant. I wondered if the humidity from outside was seeping into the room and zeroing in on our table. I wiped my face with a napkin before reaching for one of the so-called “Cheddar-Bay” biscuits. Delicious sons of bitches.
I hadn’t noticed that the waiter was asking me for my order.
“Oh, uh…um…I’ll have the NY Strip Steak, medium-rare, and-”
“Don’t you think you should have something else, like the salmon?” asked the voice across from me. I looked at her for a second. She was still scanning her menu.
“Uh…yeah, I’ll take the salmon I guess. With broccoli.”
“Excellent,” said the waiter, looking back and forth at us like we were holding him hostage. “And for the lady?”
“I’ll have the shrimp scampi and linguini,” Marlene replied, handing him both our menus. He nodded and hurried off. She focused on me again and smiled warmly.
“So, salmon, huh?”
“You and I both know a bloody steak isn’t gonna do you any good, Charlie,” she replied, sipping her water. I always figured she had some sort of special power that made her dark lipstick impervious to removal, glass-related or otherwise. Like no outside force could penetrate her preparation.
“Next time, I’m taking you to McDonald’s,” I said, stuffing the rest of the biscuit in my mouth.
“Good. I’ll get a Big Mac and you’ll get a salad.”
She was already giggling before the words had finished leaving her mouth. She was always terrible at jokes. I smirked.
“So, I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s why I wanted to have dinner, really.”
“What’s that?”
I told her about the fight. Training camp was going to start in less than a week.
“Babe…another big fight?”
They really needed to turn on the air conditioners.
“Yeah. I think I have a real shot at taking this one, too. This guy, he doesn’t have any true talent. All he does is hit hard. Eddy Josh says it won’t go past the 4th round. He’s already telling reporters that,” I said, looking at my hands.
“I’m not doubting your talent, sweetie, I know you’re spectacular. But with…with your thing, it’s not about beating up one guy or another. I’m just scared…thousands of people…and you’ve been through it three times before…I can’t believe you didn’t talk to me first…”
I didn’t know whether she was looking for the right words or if she was slowly realizing there were none. I looked up at her, noticing how big her hair was and how small it made her head look.
“That’s not gonna happen this time. Not again,” I said, a bit more sternly than I had intended. Her big eyes widened for a split-second before she turned to her water again. “And, hey, just look at this way: fourth time’s the charm, right?”
“I’m being serious, Charlie, just…just promise me that if you feel weird…you’ll drop the fight.”
I grabbed her hand in both of mine. “I feel amazing…but I promise you, baby. I promise.”
The waiter was coming toward us again and I don’t remember if there was a torn part of the rug near our table, but he tripped and before letting out a wail, he spilled the drinks on the tray he was carrying on top of me. The surprise sent me into an attack so quickly that when I woke up again, he was still apologizing and lightly brushing my shoulder with a tablecloth. Marlene was staring at something outside the window.
*
Marlene had to work the next day so instead of sleeping over my place I took her home. It was still early, only 10:30, the time of night which I call “Happy Time”. For some reason, ever since this shit started, I’ve never gotten an attack after 10pm. The few times we’d had relatively successful sex was late at night, Marlene and I. Guess it’s because since you’re supposed to be sleeping at night anyway. Maybe the narcolepsy takes its lunch-break or something. But it probably only lasts 12 or so hours because in the morning, I’ll be right back to my good old cataplexic self. So, I didn’t want to go home and decided to drive around for awhile. I must’ve gotten in-and-out of Highway 19 six times before I felt my phone vibrate. It was Natalie, asking me if I was down for a late-night sparring session. She was closing that night. I rushed home to change before heading to the gym. I had to call her to open the entrance doors.
“Sorry, the big beefy guy left around 8 and no one else came in so I just locked up,” she said, holding the door for me.
“Really, 8? Did he break another bag that quick?” I asked, taking my gloves out of my bag. Natalie rolled her eyes and led the way to one of the smaller rings in the far corner of the gym. It was very funny to me how Natalie always seemed to be wearing the same shit. I wondered if she ever did laundry. She had on a white sports bra, baggy gym shorts, high baseball socks, and Asics. I would sometimes catch myself staring at her. She was so slim up top, but her lower body was a happy marriage between shredded muscle and just the right amount of fat. She claimed that if she could have sex with the inventor of squats, she would.
“Are you staring at my butt again?”
I laughed. “You call that monstrous beast a butt?”
She scoffed and began to tape her own hands up, nodding toward mine. “I’ll do you after.” I smirked.
We sparred for about 15 minutes, three rounds. I always felt like I had to control myself when sparring with Natalie. Eddy Josh had once told me that if I tried hard enough, my left hook could take a man’s head off, and her head was too small to test. But then she’d go and bash me square in the nose and I would become a more eager participant. We sat on the edge of the ring after the buzzer sounded, our legs dangling.
“So, how’re things? You didn’t text me last night,” she said as she began to unfasten her headgear. A thick line of saliva stretched out from her mouth when she removed her mouth-guard.
“Yeah I know, sorry dude. Had a bit of an awkward night.”
“How so?” she asked, peeling her gloves off with her teeth. I told her about me and Marlene’s failed sexual escapade. Natalie gave me a pained look in response.
A “Yeah,” was all I could muster.
We stood in silence for a moment, each trying to figure out what would sound substantial enough. I didn’t really want to talk about my feelings or anything. Talking about them wouldn’t cure me.
“So how do you feel about training camp? Excited?” Natalie asked, practically reading my mind.
“Absolutely. I’m gonna destroy that kid,” I replied almost immediately. “Just wait. I’m leaving Houston a champion.”
“You better, Charlie. You’re a thousand times the fighter he is, even when you’re asleep!”
We both cracked up, and for a moment there, I believed what I had said.
Words Equal Water 