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I change and I get another cup of coffee and I walk to breakfast and I get some oatmeal and I cover it with sugar. I sit down at a table with Leonard and Ed and Ted and a short thin black man. I have seen the black man before, though I can’t place him. Leonard speaks.

How ya doing, Kid?

I’m all right.

He motions to the black man.

You meet Matty, yet?

No.

Matty, James. James, Matty.

We reach across the table, shake hands. I say nice to meet you. He says nice to meet you, Motherfucker. I look at him more closely. I speak.

I know you from somewhere.

He speaks. He has a high voice, talks very quickly.

Where the fuck you know me from?

I’m not sure. Where do you live?

Minneapolis.

That’s not it. What’s your last name?

You ain’t supposed to fucking ask me my last fucking name in this fucking place.

It registers. I know where I know him.

You’re last name is Jackson.

How the fuck you know that?

I used to watch you on TV. You were the Featherweight Champion of the World.

He smiles.

I sure as fuck was.

I smile.

And they wouldn’t ever interview you because you swear so much.

They sure as fuck wouldn’t. Cocksucking, motherfucking TV Motherfuckers.

Everyone laughs and breakfast gets pushed aside and we sit and we drink coffee and we talk shit and we laugh. Matty is a wreck, a shell of the man he was two years ago, when he was one of the best boxers in the World. At the time, he held two championships, was rich and famous, married and had two young Boys. At a party celebrating one of his victories, he took a hit from a pipe he was told was full of pot, but was actually loaded with crack. He got hooked immediately, fought one more time and got destroyed, and he disappeared.

It is strange to be sitting across from him. It is strange to imagine that the man I used to watch on TV is the man in front of me. At the height of his career, he was a fighting machine. He was fast, smart, strong and unbeatable at his weight, one hundred and twenty-six pounds. He was handsome, had a big smile, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body, and he had dark, smooth flawless skin. His confidence was supreme, and he entered and commanded the Ring as if he owned it.

There is nothing left. He is very small, one hundred and ten pounds at the most, his hair is tangled and nappy, his skin is covered with open sores and his teeth are yellow, brown and black. Though his confidence seems to be intact, I doubt he could find a Boxing Ring, much less command it or render someone unconscious within it. I don’t ask him about his Wife or his Kids because I don’t want to know and he probably doesn’t want to tell me.

The Dining Hall empties. We don’t notice because of Matty and Leonard and our laughter. When one of the Janitors walks over and he tells us to leave, we walk to the Lecture together and Matty talks and he swears and he makes us laugh. When we get to the Lecture, we sit together, away from the rest of the men of our Unit, and before the Speaker begins, Leonard pulls out a deck of cards and we start playing poker. We don’t bet, and except for Matty swearing under his breath, we play silently, signaling each other with hands and our heads.

The Lecture ends and I say good-bye to my friends and I walk through the Halls until I find the door that has Joanne’s name on it. I knock, I hear her say come in, and I open the door and step inside.

She and Hank are sitting on the couch drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. Hank rises when he sees me and he gives me a hug.

How ya doing, Kid?

We separate.

I’m good.

Let me see those teeth.

I smile.

They look nice.

I guess so.

Was it worth it?

I survived.

I don’t know how, but I guess you did.

It was worth it.

He laughs, moves toward the door.

Come visit me in the Livery some time.

Where’s the Livery?

It’s the Van sitting in front of the Entrance.

I laugh. He reaches for the door.

You don’t have to leave.

You two probably need to be alone.

I’d like you to stay.

He stops, looks at me, sits next to Joanne.