On his toes and rocking

On His Toes and Rocking

Old Tom’s fist hit Jacob Jean’s face and he could feel the tightness that meant Jacob Jean had not been quick enough to loosen his neck, to roll with the punch. The delivery would make its way all down his spine now. He could feel tht moment of resistance when a body doesn’t take a blow right, and he knew that was all he needed. He snapped his fist back and let his other hand have a go at the boy, though this one didn’t come as hard and he knew there wouldn’t be two gifts like that one in a row.

The two men fought out in a small town alleyway, behind a furniture store, with old style fire escapes up ahead, brick on either side and the trash of cars that rolled through and decided they didn’t want a half dozen extra single sized potato chip bags on the floorboards anymore. It was dark. The moon came and went as slivery clouds circled around in the sky. The men fought alone. No spectators. No seconds.

Jacob Jean retreated now that he felt his back ache and an imaginary noose around his neck. Old Tom’s fist had done awful work on him, not so much because he’d hit so hard, but because he’d timed it right. His thoughts came in hundredths of punches, and in one one-hundredth, he defensively thought that the Old Man had to rely on tricks like that to win a fight. In the next one-hundredth he corrected himself because pride wouldn’t win this thing. It might be to the death, this fight. He couldn’t really tell where Old Tom was going with it.

They circled.

Jacob Jean sprung in for two jabs then bounced back out. Old Tom didn’t take much of them but Jacob Jean clipped him. He bounced out then bounced in again. Bounced in and out again. He wasn’t doing anything to Old Tom except showing him he had more energy. He wanted to see an anxiousness come up in the man’s eyes. It didn’t though. The old man moved more slowly. He circled less. Then he stopped, just balanced on his toes and rocking a little while Jacob Jean went in and out.

So the boy went for it. He sprung in again as if he had another pair of jabs ready. One jab came then he planted his opposite foot and went for a power shot straight through Old Tom’s blocking arms. What Jacob Jean hadn’t noticed, though, was that every time he jumped in for his little jabs, old Tom would block, but also put all his weight on the foot opposite the side that Jacob Jean’s first blow came from. Jacob Jean’s head and neck still seared with pain from taking so much off that one punch – maybe that’s why he couldn’t think.

When the boy’s power punch came Old Tom dropped his defenses, dodged it sidewise and grabbed Jacob Jean’s punching arm with one hand, while swinging into the boy’s defenseless inside simultaneously and delivering a hit to the chin that, combined with the pull from the other side Old Tom added to it by grabbing Jacob Jean’s arm, ended up working a lot like an upper cut. Jacob Jean’s head snapped all the way back.

Old Tom doubled him over with a sudden hook to the stomach then delivered a downward shot to the base of the back of Jacob Jean’s skull. Jacob Jean went down and Old Tom squatted next to him.

”That’s enough you little sunuvabitch,” he said.

Jacob Jean got himself up so that he was sitting against the wall. He nodded his agreement. His eyes closed.

“I’ll tell you how I did it sometime when you decide you ain’t got shit to prove no more.”

Jacob Jean nodded again. Old Tom got up, turned his back on the boy he’d known so long and started to walk away.

Jacob Jean tackled the old man from behind but flipped him over as he did it. He got on top of him, pinned the man with his superior strength then punched him in the face three times. With his head against the alley’s concrete, he had nowhere to go. No way to roll with the punches.

“Winning’s what matters, old Tom. That’s what you fuckin’ said.”