Curing the knuckles had become something of
a tradition after each fight. His gloves had to be removed carefully, or the
pain would drive him furious if he had lost or would have ruined his moment if
he had won. The Hammer was the nickname chosen by the fans to refer to him and
he certainly had some thing reminiscent of that object. Not only was he
overwhelmingly strong, he was also taller than most boxers and would always use
that in his advantage, in very clever ways.
Carefully, some pure alcohol would be applied
to his hands and to the rest of his body, wherever he could have scars. This
was done after he showered himself thoroughly. It had been known to happen that
he was so weak after a fight that someone went into the showers with him in
order to help him stand and use the soap. That normally happened when he had
lost and it wasn’t a nice thing to witness. He would always be furious those
times and it wasn’t great to be near him.
The Hammer had started fighting very early in
his life. He had been a bully back in school but, thankfully, his religious
upbringing had helped him seek an exit from his ways through a sport and boxing
had always been very popular in that neighborhood, one of those parts of town
where every single person has their family working in some store or factory.
Boxing saved The Hammer from becoming a butcher, a machine operator or even a
cashier. His future was slightly brighter.
He started in fights celebrated behind closed
doors. He was still underage so it wasn’t legal to make him fight but it was
the only way to properly use his skills. He had such rage; such need to be
fighting other men. It was fantastic to see him use his fists, one, two and
then both almost at the same time. His legs were fast too, so he had it all to be
the very best boxer ever, in the world. And he knew this, so his ego started to
grow each day, like a weed. It just got into his head.
When
he reached adulthood, everyone in the boxing circuit knew exactly who The
Hammer was. His techniques and legendary way of finishing his fights was very
well known and he had received acclaim from every single part of society: the
poor, the rich, the workers, the owners, the old and the young, as well as from
men and women. That was in part his undoing, or the moment he started going
downhill. When he lost for the first time, the felt everything that had
happened before was just forgotten by everyone else. He thought he was going to
be ostracized.
However, that’s when he met Howard. He was a
guy his age but not physically fit like him. He wasn’t fat or lanky but just
not someone as big and powerful as The Hammer. He was shorter and had shown the
way of words and books. Recently returning from his stay abroad, he had gone to
the university and learned quite a few things around there. He was well known
once he got back to the neighborhood because he had chosen to become a nurse
instead of a proper doctor.
His parents were not pleased by his decision
and it was clear everyone in that part of town had their opinion about Howard.
But he simply did not care. He had lived there before and he knew people would
respect that, even if they spoke behind his back. And they sure did: in the
supermarket and on the street, pointing and giggling and laughing out loud. It
was especially the youngest ones around, repeating their parents behavior, who
shouted word to the man, with no response heard back.
Two days after he had returned to the city,
his sister decided to take him to a boxing match. She wanted others to see how
Howard was a real man, and such a sporting event would be the perfect way to
make them realize all that was said about him was a lie. When they reached the
venue, they sat very far from the ring but were able to see perfectly when The
Hammer lost, again, against a huge blond man who seemed more like a
refrigerator than like a real human male.
Each punch, each swift move, hurt Howard deep
inside. He was certain that was not the kind of sport he liked to see and he
didn’t want to see that ever again. And then more punches came and some
stitches blew open. Blood was all over the place and The Hammer was soon
announced as the loser. Howard was so affected by what he had seen, that he
just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. However, his sister had to
go to the bathroom and took especially long that day.
As he waited, he saw the refrigerator man
passing by. He seemed more like a robot than anything else. And then came two
guys, holding The Hammer and trying to take him to his dressing room. He was
badly beaten and it was obvious that place didn’t have a proper infirmary. His
need to help kicked in and Howard helped the men carry The Hammer and take him
to a sofa in his room. There, they waited for the nurse they had brought but
she seemed overwhelmed by the blood and she lacked most of what was necessary.
Howard jumped in, not thinking.
The woman and the men helped him get what he
needed to patch The Hammer up. His face was severely swollen, he couldn’t speak
at all. Alcohol was rubbed all over, carefully not to burn the fighter. Howard
himself took off the gloves and the shorts and the shoes. Everything had to
come off in order to help properly. It took several hours, effort and supplies,
bought from a nearby pharmacy by the boxer’s friends, but he was eventually
saved from further damage.
Howard’s sister had left, so he decided to
join The Hammer and his friends to his house. He still lived with his mother,
near the melting plant. He was carried by the men and left in a mattress on the
ground, which was apparently his bed. He slept on a room downstairs, by the
kitchen. The men, thanking Howard, asked him if he wanted to have something to
eat. His stomach ached, so he accepted. So they all left to buy some fried
chicken and he was left alone with his patient.
He changed some of the patched done and tried
to clean the man’s face with a moist cloth. He carefully washed every single
centimeter, trying not to make him feel any pain. However, The Hammer woke up
as Howard was cleaning his neck. He wasn’t anxious at all, or nervous. He moved
his swollen lips and Howard realized he was thanking him for his help. Howard
smiled and the boxer tried to do the same. If anyone had been there, they would
have told the male nurse that Hammer never smiled.
They stared at each other and no sound was
made. The Hammer wanted to say something else, to try and pretend he was
feeling fine. But every single bone in his body felt like it was bruised. He
could stand it but he didn’t really know what else to say. Out of nowhere, Howard
resumed his task of cleaning the sportsman, finishing his neck and then moving
on to his hand and forearms. He finally cleaned his feet, which made the boxer
laugh and then yell some curse words because of the pain.
Howard tried not to but he couldn’t hold the
laughter. He tried to apologize but he couldn’t. When The Hammers laughed to, apparently
ignoring his own state, he realized there was nothing to fear about his
reaction. Laughter was definitely needed.
When the laughter subsided and just moments
before they could smell fried chicken, the boxer grabbed one of Howard’s hands
and told him his name was Kevin. They both smiled. Afterwards, they all ate and
new relationships began to blossom, slowly.
