Girl in the Arena - Lise Haines [93]
—The blood is amazing. You’ve done an incredible job.
—But? Mark asks.
—I wasn’t going to say anything.
—There’s something about the way she pivots at the hips, he says. —And the way she raises her arms and the turns are more like rotations.
—Everything else looks pretty natural, I say.
—She’s as good as she’s going to get, I’m afraid.
When we pause between trials, I notice that she flirts heavily with Mark and that he doesn’t seem to mind this too much. In fact you could say he laughs easily with her.
Once we’ve shut down the equipment and she’s back in the box for the night, I say, —You better not be thinking about keeping her around.
—Jealous?
—No, I’m just saying.
Uber has not called and the fight is next week. The TV appearances are just starting to crank up. Caesar’s makes sure we’re never in the same room together. Mostly, the crews come and set up in our living room or library.
Where before we had only the paparazzi to consider when we backed out of the driveway, now we have protestors of every stripe. There’s been some buzz that I should lose guardianship of Thad. As far as I’m concerned, this fight can’t get here fast enough.
While Thad takes an afternoon nap, to the syncopated sounds of helicopter blades overhead, I sit down with Sheryl and tell her that the day I fight, she’s to keep Thad away from the Romulus. So far, to the best of my knowledge, he has no idea about the match. Like a post-9/11 parent keeping their children from the horrific details of that day, I don’t watch the evening news, I don’t even discuss it within his earshot.
I mention a long list of activities Sheryl might do with him.
—Where should I tell him you’ll be? she asks, not looking wholly convinced this will work.
—It’s best not to lie to him too much, he’s so intuitive. You can say I’ve gone to the stadium to accept an award for Tommy.
—I’ll do my best.
I tell her she has to do more than that.
Julie has us over for a vegetable lasagna dinner two nights before the match. She knows I’m strictly vegetarian now. I imagine it broke her heart to alter her family recipe, but she’s more cheerful than I’ve seen her in a long time.
Over dessert, she starts in.
—I saw the way the two of you looked on that morning program. You can’t buy chemistry like that, she says, referring to the spot Uber and I did from our individual homes at the beginning of the week.
Mark laughs but Lloyd ducks, moving straight into the kitchen to get an early start on the dishes. He asks Thad to keep him company over a scoop of chocolate ice cream, since Thad seems troubled by the tiramisu. I watch my brother as he puts his hand in Lloyd’s, and they head off.
—Maybe she doesn’t want to marry a gladiator, Mark says, scooping the creamy pastry into his mouth. —Wicked dessert, Mom.
—Maybe she just needs some understanding of the benefits, Julie says.
—Maybe she’s just a modern woman, he says.
—Maybe, as a man, you don’t have a lot to contribute to this conversation.
Julie throws her napkin down. I’ve never heard her speak to Mark in quite this way, and I can see he’s decided to stop.
—I hope you’ll understand, eventually, I tell her.
—But would your mother understand? Julie says.
—Mom, Mark scolds.
—It’s better that she think about this stuff now, than regret it later.
I wasn’t keeping track, but Mark indicates the empty wine bottle, raising his eyebrows. And now that I think about it, she’s probably on her third or fourth glass.
—Allison couldn’t live with her decisions. With any of them, really, I say.
When Julie breaks down, Lloyd, who must have had his ear to the door, edges out of the kitchen. He sits Thad down at the phone table in the hallway and helps him with his sandals. Then he gets my jacket from the closet.
I want to go over to Julie and try to comfort her but Mark makes it clear that I should wait for another time.
Thad takes my hand now and we slip through the door to the garage. Once he’s in his seat