“I got my period.”
“What? You had it two weeks ago!?
“WELL, IT CAME EARLY. OK?”
The bathroom door slammed shut. A new fight had begun but Jasmine didn’t care. All she cared about was finding a way to contact Ava. Ruben was her first step.
Ruben and Chris sat in the waiting room, having not spoken since Chris’ outburst. There was so much to say, yet nothing would help. Ruben was flicking through his phone, trying to distract himself from the wait, when a rather long message appeared. The only people he regularly spoke to were in this hospital. Two of them, and one was unconscious. Friends had sent messages of support, but this was from someone he didn't recognise. Someone named Jasmine.
Why was that name so familiar...
He read on, and it clicked, even in his brain numbed with exhaustion. Ava’s ex. The one she had tried so hard to find years ago.
Hi Ruben, I’m sorry to message you like this, but I’m an old friend of Ava’s. We lost contact years ago, I’m sorry to say. I only just heard about what happened. I’m so sorry. If she can understand or respond, can you please tell her I’m thinking of her? I’d love to see her when, and if, she is able.
Ruben was heartened by this. That after all these years, and everything that had gone on, Jasmine still found time to think of Ava and reached out to contact her. Something about lost loves finding each other again made him feel slightly comforted. The feeling did little to cool the ice cold tension in the room between him and Chris.
They were both tired, frustrated, scared and feeling guilty. Yet when the surgeon came in, Ruben could have never expressed how much he’d wanted Chris’ hand to slip into his own.
“How is she?” Chris asked.
“Well, she’s stable. We were lucky. But she’s not out of the woods yet. Her larynx is partially ruptured, so we fixed the internal bleeding and cleared out the blood from her lungs. Her leg is broken in three places. We had to dig bone fragments out of muscle. I think we got it all, but we need to wait a few days for the swelling to go down and do another scan. She’s got a base plate and screw to hold it all in place that, due to the severity of the breaks, will need to be on for at least twelve weeks. Now, I don’t want to alarm you, but as a result of the head trauma, she’s in a coma. We aren’t sure if it’s due to the violent blows to the head or the contact with the cage,”
“Oh Jesus... what does that mean? What happens?”
“Near as we can tell, it’s being caused by swelling in the brain. She should regain consciousness again, reasonably soon, once the swelling starts to go down. Right now, she’s in the best possible place, away from all this crap going on.”
“What crap?” Ruben asked.
“There’s a pack of media waiting downstairs. They arrived an hour after she came in, and they’ve only grown. I’m no expert, but I don’t think they’ll be leaving until they get something for their story. Now look, we can get you in contact with our media liaison. We do have procedures for times like this. She won’t be bothered. But, I gotta tell you, there is a long, long road ahead, gentlemen. You can see her tomorrow if you like.”
Both men nodded, but as soon as the doctor left, they struggled with what to say. Needing each other for support, to lean on as they broke down. They needed to break down for so many reasons, but ultimately, that need was pushed away.
“It’s my fault... oh God,” Ruben muttered.
Chris made an attempt to reply, but Ruben walked out with a mumbled intent to meet back at the hotel. Whether he was offering an apology or not, Ruben didn’t want to hear it. Nothing he said could’ve made the chasm in Ruben’s heart fill.
Ruben walked aimlessly for what felt like hours. The fight wasn’t what was going through his head. Strangely enough, he couldn’t picture the fight. It was Ava’s motionless body on the mat that Ruben couldn’t stop picturing.
Sorry wasn’t even the word for how he felt. All the confidence he had, all the assurances he had given himself that Ava could actually defeat Nash were gone. Obliterated.
How could he have been so stupid? Did he ever once think about saying no? Was Chris right? Was he only ever trying to live vicariously through Ava? Had he seen a chance for glory, jumped, and damned all logic?
It was one thing to fight against the wishes of your mentor and get your arse handed to you. In that case, you deserved what you got. But Ava didn’t deserve this. He was her mentor, and he’d owed her a duty of care. A duty he had failed. No matter how much he had convinced himself he believed in and loved Ava, she should have never been in that ring.
He crossed the threshold of a convenience store, walking all the way to the back where the fridge was. He stared at the shelf for a long time. Not because he couldn’t find what he was looking for, but because he had. Ouzo had been his solace for over a year after Chris’ uncle died. It was only Chris that had stopped his drinking or rather a promise to Chris.
Ruben took the bottle over to the register and paid for it without a word, walking outside and twisting the lid off. He felt the ice-cold bottle in his fingers, contrasted against the burning tightness in his throat, and the tears fell. He thought of his promise to Chris, but he felt worthless. A failure. A disgrace. His actions had harmed a girl he loved more than he ever thought possible. He had almost killed his baby girl. By the grace of God she still breathed, but when it came down to crunch time, not only was he responsible, he was helpless.
Ruben swallowed a huge gulp of the alcohol, remembering the numbing sensation trickling into his temples. Blinking away fresh tears, he stopped and stared at a poster on the side of the store. Owen Gasnier versus Brent Diaz. The fighters faced each other, shaping up. Gasnier’s father, Robert, behind his son, arms crossed. The tears slowed but didn’t stop as anger coursed through him.
Taking another angry swig, clenching his teeth, he then flung the bottle with such force it exploded and shredded the poster upon impact. But it didn’t lessen the anger, anger at himself, and scrunching his eyes, he sank to his haunches as he wrapped his arms around himself, wishing they were around Ava so he could tell her the same words he repeated to himself, over and over again. “I’m so sorry.”
16
Over the next forty-eight hours,neither Chris nor Ruben answered phone calls from private numbers. They made one trip to the hotel room to gather a change of clothes and their chargers, then retreated back to the hospital. During that time, what was a small media contingent had grown into a mob.
News reached the pair that Veronica Nash had been brought to the same hospital. She was apparently conscious and able to talk but wasn’t. Whether it was deliberate or not, they didn’t know, but her silence was feeding the ravenous vultures looking for a tasty quote.