My heart ached, missing Noah, missing my camera. He hadn’t called me or texted me. He didn’t show up around campus after class or even here at the library. Given that he had pursued me so hard in the beginning, his lack of effort now spoke volumes. We were done.
I began to dimly understand why my mother couldn’t face the world and hid behind a veil of prescription drugs. Being a zombie from too much Xanax was vastly preferable to feeling hollowed out by pain.
My text message alert sounded. I swung away from the balcony and rolled my chair to where my phone lay on the desk. Call me. Josh.
“Yes, Master Josh, what can I do for you, Master Josh?” I asked, dutifully calling him.
“Can you come up here for homecoming?”
“I can’t. I traded with someone, and I’m supposed to cover their shift on Saturday.”
“Trade again.” He sounded impatient. “Get your student supervisor to cover. Tell him you have a family emergency.”
“Is Mom okay?” I asked, instant concern making my voice a little screechy.
“It’s with me, you dumbass.”
“Are you okay?”
“Better than. Guess what?” He continued without giving me a chance to guess. “The Athletic Director was down here the other day and saw your photo.”
“What photo?” I asked dumbly.
“The one you took of me looking awesome. What other photo would I be calling you about?”
“I already got paid for that one.” Maybe I wasn’t art major material or good enough for Dr. Rossum, but someone liked my stuff enough to pay me a substantial sum of money.
“Right, so anyway, the AD loves the photo and wants you to do one for every sport on campus. They’re gonna pay you to do it, of course. I’m negotiating your fee,” Josh said, sounding so proud of himself, almost as proud as when he talked about his athletic accomplishments.
“Seriously?” I was stunned.
“For reals, baby sis.”
“Why do I have to come up for homecoming?”
“They want you to take pictures of homecoming too. The parade and then the game. Whadda think?”
“I’ll get someone to cover.” I hung up on the sound of Josh’s laughter. Mike had no problem covering for me when I explained my situation.
Homecoming was more fun than I had anticipated. It was good to get away from Central. Noah had left for Vegas without a word. Lana came with to serve as my assistant. I was grateful for her help, as this time I really did need assistance, having to keep track of where I was supposed to be and when. I didn’t get to see much of the game except through the camera lens. This time, I stayed up in the press box for the entire game. Lana sat and charmed half the sports writers.
By the time we landed at Josh’s apartment after the game had ended, I was mentally and physically wiped, but I hadn’t forgotten that Noah was fighting that night in Vegas.
Josh pulled me aside after pizzas had arrived.
“Noah’s fourth on the card so he’ll probably fight around 8 pm or so. I’ve bought the fight. But he’s a huge underdog and he’s likely to get crushed, so maybe you want to miss it anyway?”
“No, really?” Dismay and fear chased down my spine.
“Yep, according to what I’ve read on the internet, the original challenger hurt himself. So Noah is filling in. It’s not a title match or anything, but it’s a fairly big deal because the opponent is undefeated, and in order to make the fight worth the pay-per-view money, they had to find another undefeated middleweight.”
I felt sick to my stomach and refused all offerings of food. Noah had never once expressed any concern about his fight, but then I never gave him the chance. The crowd in Josh’s apartment had blossomed. It was homecoming after all. I claimed a place in front of the TV and refused to move.
The first match lasted all three rounds. Both fighters were bloodied and exhausted. Their blows were more like grabs, and they spent the last four minutes grappling on the mat. The blood from cuts on their faces was smeared on the floor.
Noah had once told me that the grappling portion could look very provocative, and he was right. The one opponent was lying on top of the other in some weird 69 position. As the announcers narrated the events, the terms they used had more sexual innuendo than Cosmo’s front cover.
None of the men in the crowd were turned off by this. Apparently sweaty man on sweaty man in a sexual position was exciting if their intent was to hurt each other. After the fight was over, a decision was made, anointing the red shorts guy as the winner. I had no idea how they arrived at that decision.
The two looked completely exhausted with bruises and cuts all over their face and arms and chest. One’s guy nose looked broken and cotton had been stuffed up it to stem the flow of blood. I felt sick that this was what Noah would look like at the end of his match. After the commercial break, the announcers started talking about Noah’s fight.