Derek looked at him.
Then he pointed toward the ring.
“One round.”
Samuel shook his head.
“No.”
“Two minutes.”
“No.”
“Thirty seconds.”
“No.”
Derek stepped closer.
“You scared?”
Samuel looked directly into his eyes.
“No.”
“Then why won't you?”
“Because you're asking the wrong question.”
“What question should I ask?”
Samuel picked up his duffel.
“Whether I want to.”
He walked past him.
Derek turned.
“What's the answer?”
Samuel stopped.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then:
“No.”
Derek laughed loudly.
The sound carried into the gym.
“Everybody heard that?”
Several fighters looked over.
“He doesn't want to fight me.”
A few people laughed.
Samuel continued toward the exit.
Then Coach Draven spoke.
“Samuel.”
He stopped.
Draven stood near the ring.
“If you don't want to fight, that's your choice.”
Samuel nodded.
“But you didn't come here to watch.”
Samuel turned slowly.
Draven continued.
“You came here because you needed something.”
The gym became quiet.
Samuel's face changed.
Draven had guessed correctly.
But before he could answer, the front door opened.
A woman entered carrying an umbrella.
She was in her early thirties.
Her hair was wet.
She looked around the gym.
Then her eyes found Samuel.
“Dad?”
Samuel froze.
Derek's expression changed.
Draven watched carefully.
The woman hurried toward him.
“What are you doing here?”
Samuel lowered his eyes.
“I needed to see something.”
She looked at the ring.
Then at Derek.
Her face hardened.
“Please don't.”
Samuel sighed.
“I wasn't going to.”
The woman turned to Draven.
“I'm sorry.”
Draven frowned.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Claire Reed.”
Samuel's daughter.
And suddenly the old man's presence in Southside Striking made sense.
He hadn't come there to fight.
He had come there to remember.
The Reason He Returned
Claire waited until they were outside before speaking.
Rain struck her umbrella.
“You promised me.”
Samuel stood beneath the awning.
“I know.”
“You said you were done.”
“I am.”
“Then why?”
Samuel looked through the window.
Inside, Derek was laughing with two other fighters.
Samuel watched him.
“He reminds me of someone.”
Claire knew immediately.
“Who?”
“Myself.”
She sighed.
“You're not that man anymore.”
“I know.”
“Then leave.”
Samuel didn't answer.
Claire looked at her father.
She had spent twenty years watching him avoid mirrors.
Avoid old photographs.
Avoid conversations about boxing.
She knew almost nothing about his career.
Only fragments.
Her mother had told her once that Samuel had been one of Philadelphia's most talented young fighters.
Then something happened.
Nobody ever explained what.
His career ended.
He never fought professionally.
He became a mechanic.
Raised Claire.
Worked quietly.
And never returned to a gym.
Until tonight.
“What happened here?” Claire asked.
Samuel looked confused.
“What?”
“You came here for a reason.”
He was silent.
Then he said:
“I heard they were bringing young fighters here.”
“So?”
“I wanted to see whether the sport had changed.”
Claire laughed bitterly.
“You mean whether people changed.”
Samuel looked down.
“I wanted to know whether I could walk into a gym without becoming that man again.”
Claire softened.
“And can you?”
Samuel looked through the glass.
Derek had started another round.
He was fast.
Powerful.
Careless.
Samuel's eyes narrowed.
“No.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Dad.”
“I don't mean I want to fight.”
“Then what do you mean?”
Samuel looked at his daughter.
“I mean I still see every mistake.”
He tapped his temple.
“Every opening.”
He touched his left knee.
“Every weakness.”
His voice lowered.
“And I hate that I still know how to hurt people.”
Claire stared at him.
“You don't have to prove anything.”
“I know.”
“Then come home.”
Samuel nodded.
But before they could leave, the gym door opened.
Coach Draven stepped outside.
“Claire.”
She looked surprised.
“You know me?”
“I knew your father before you were born.”
Samuel's expression tightened.
Draven looked at him.
“You never told her?”
“Told her what?”
Draven sighed.
“That you were the best fighter I ever trained.”
Claire stared at her father.
Samuel looked away.
Draven continued.
“Not the strongest.”
“Not the fastest.”
“The best.”
Samuel shook his head.
“Don't.”
But Draven wasn't finished.
“You were seventeen years old when I first saw you.”
He smiled faintly.
“You could make grown men miss without touching them.”
Claire looked at her father as though seeing him for the first time.
“Why did you stop?”
Samuel's eyes moved toward the rain.
“Because I learned what winning costs.”
Then he walked away.