Desire Uncaged: An MMA Romance (4 page)

He finished shaving, and like a zombie, made his way to the dresser.
Thank god I’m not working out this morning
. He thought to himself. He dressed and packed his meager helpings of food—all tediously measured and weighed out in small plastic containers. Ethan ate his morning allocation of boiled chicken and asparagus. It was nearly devoid of taste, but despite the blandness his hungry stomach and parched tongue appreciated the calories. Ethan gulped down water and made his way out the door.

As he arrived at the parking lot, Ethan sat in his car for a few minutes and sought to rally his strength for another day at the office. This was his first fight camp undertaken while working full time, and Ethan was not enjoying having to work while sore, tired and hungry.

Still, Ethan rallied himself and made his way into the office. He debated visiting Sara, but it was almost 9:00 and their secret wouldn’t last long if every day he made a B-line for the redhead first thing every day.

Ethan wandering to his
cubicle, and fell into his chair. Hopefully, the company didn’t expect much out of him today, because he certainly didn’t have the energy for it.

* * *

Sara was devoid of energy herself. Emotionally drained, she had also come to work feeling like a ghost. She was in front of her computer, but the glowing screen could not seem to hold her attention. The closest thing to a bright spot was that Ethan had not shown up at the entrance to her cubicle. She wasn’t sure she could deal with him today. Truthfully, she didn’t want to see him anymore again. Ever.

Sara slogged through the morning until lunch. The thought of seeing Ethan made her stomach tighten with anxiety. She went out to lunch by herself. It was the most relaxed she had felt all day. Ethan looked for her in the break room, and her
cubicle, but Sara was nowhere to be found. Her office mates confirmed she was in today. This left Ethan feeling more confused than ever.

Sara returned from lunch, and feeling somehow even more tired, she sat in front of her computer and sipped her coffee. She had precisely nothing to show for the day’s work, and at her current pace
nothing would get done. She was fine with it all. It was then that she heard a knock on the wall of her cubicle. She turned. There was Ethan.

He looked tired. A little worse than he had been on Wednesday. He smiled at her

“Hey stranger.”

She didn’t return his smile and it quickly disappeared from his face.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, his concern genuine.

“Is this about Emily? Did she contact you?”

Sara looked at him, surging all of her limited fortitude into constructing a disinterested and uncaring demeanor.

“Yea. She told me everything. You’re a bastard.” Sara caught herself being louder than she had wanted to be. Everyone in the office could likely hear her.

“This just isn’t working out. I think you need to leave.” Sara seethed quietly at Ethan.

Ethan, caught off guard, reacted slowly, stammering. “Whatever she said is a lie! She’s crazy!” Even Ethan had to admit, he sounded unconvincing. He was too tired to rally the energy for a better display.

Ethan looked at her; struggling between speaking up and the risk of making a commotion at work. The last thing he needed was to look like he was harassing employees. Ethan stared at Sara for a few moments longer, Sara glared at him with her best steely gaze. Ethan turned and left.

* * *

The sound of leather hitting leather echoed in the otherwise empty gym. The normal class had since let out for the night, only Ethan and Joe remained. Joe held punching mitts as Ethan’s glove-clad fists hit them again and again in a strange, staccato rhythm. Ethan’s breathing was heavy and labored. Sweat dripped from every extremity. Ethan’s shirt was soaked. His focus was absolute. His eyes locked on Joe, and then the mitts, as Joe called out punches to be thrown.

For Ethan, his concentration was perfect. Performing correctly demanded absolute unwavering focus in the moment. As long as Joe held up the mitts, Ethan
’s mind couldn’t think of anything else. The dexterity and speed that MMA training demanded made wandering thoughts impossible. For Ethan, training like this was the most relaxing part of his entire day. Especially on a day like today. This was really the first time since being treated so dismissively by Sara that he felt something like normal. But before long, the timer chimed, bringing the workout to a close, and Ethan back to a harsh reality.

The pair sat, exhausted on the floor in the corner of the mat as Ethan began to undo his gloves. Joe turned to him.

“How are you feeling, man?” He asked

“I’m feeling good. Feeling ready.”

“That doesn’t sound convincing.”

Joe is damn perceptive for his own good
.

Ethan looked at Joe, “Sara’s pissed at me for something. I think Emily might have tracked her down and put some crazy idea in her head.”

Joe looked at Ethan with sincerity. “You want my advice?”

Ethan knew Joe was going to give it in any case. He stared blankly at Joe. The younger man continued,

“You have bigger fish to fry than some girl you’ve been seeing for a few weeks. She isn’t going anywhere, and what’s done is done. You need to put that shit on the back burner, and focus on this fight. Once you wrap this up, then sort out Sara and Emily.”

Ethan nodded. Joe’s logic made sense. It had been a common story throughout his adult life. Fighting was far more a fixture than any woman had been. And with the biggest fight of his life only a week away, Ethan’s energy needed to be focused on his fight, not on some girl and her drama. These kind of outside the ring distractions
wreaked havoc on a fighters’ careers. And it only took a single loss to derail a young career like his.

“You know, Joe,” Ethan said with a smile, “That might be the best advice you’ve ever given me.”

Joe smiled back, “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

Feeling as good as he had all day, Ethan left the gym, and drove back home.

* * *

Sara, now alone in her apartment watching TV, was
as clear-headed as she had been all day. The redhead had felt downright oppressed at work, the anxiety of being in the same building as Ethan was disquieting. She was more than looking forward to the weekend—two days without work, and without drama from Ethan. Sara, with little else to do, went to bed early, and slept fitfully at best.

She awoke earlier than she expected to, feeling strange.
Sara flung open the curtains; oddly comforted by the piercing early morning light illuminating her apartment. She made herself breakfast and ate it in silence. Sara, having finished breakfast, began to clean her apartment. She vacuumed, scrubbed the floors, and cleaned the tub and bathroom. She even washed her sheets and clothes. By mid-afternoon Sara had cleared her entire apartment more thoroughly than she had since she had first signed the lease years ago. Still feeling herself in a daze, Sara wandered to her car.

She climbed into
the driver’s seat and took off. She made her way to the highway, and took the onramp going south. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but something compelled her to drive. She watched the city fall away, giving way to endless fields lying fallow in the winter. Sara wasn’t sure what she was looking for. She eventually found a rest stop. She stopped there, got gas and dinner. Sara watched the cars pass on the highway as the sun began to set. Everything felt transient. She finished her food and rose. She went the bathroom, but couldn’t quite bring herself to look in mirror. Sara drove back home as the sun slipped beneath the horizon, its rays still illuminated the clouds in purple and red hues.

Ethan spent the weekend rotating between his bed, the couch in front of the TV, and reading. He did everything he could to keep the stimulation coming. He was an old hand at being hungry, and he knew that constant distraction was his friend. Ethan’s constant companion was his giant water jug. The large, one-gallon plastic container was his friend in the last week of weight cuts. It followed him and sloshed around as he took swigs from it l
ike drunk moonshiner. His hunger kept any thoughts of Sara or Emily or the drama they seemed to bring at bay. Serious hunger had a way of focusing the brain on priorities. By Sunday Ethan’s body was no longer aching with soreness. The two days of true complete rest left him feeling better than he had in weeks. By the time Monday came around, he actually felt good, despite the intense hunger from the dieting.

Ethan awoke and made his way to the shower, downing a few swigs from his jug that rested next to his nightstand as he entered the bathroom. He looked lean as ever, but
somewhat less tired. He thought so anyway.

Ethan drove in to work and entered the building. Against his better judgment, he made his way to Sara’s cubicle. He turned the corner and was shocked to see it empty.

Ethan turned to the adjacent cubicle. “Did Sara get transferred?”

The older woman turned to Ethan, “No, she came in early and said she was taking her remaining vacation days, and that would
be her two weeks’ notice. She quit.”

Ethan was shocked. He simply stared at her.

“Were you guys sleeping together?” The woman asked invasively.

Ethan pretended not to hear her. He turned and left, moving toward his office, all of a sudden feeling exhausted. He went to his cubicle and tried to throw himself into his work, but he found his mind flooded with questions.
Why had she quit? Did I have something to do with it? Did something else happen to her? I hope she’s alright
.

* * *

That evening, Ethan found himself bored at home, flipping through channels when the door slammed. Joe walked in.

“How was sitting on your ass, slacker?” He chided.

Joe sauntered to his room, and Ethan heard the shower run as Joe washed after practice. Joe emerged dressed and began to make food in the kitchen. He yelled over to Ethan.

“How’s your weight?”

“Good.” Ethan responded apathetically.

“Guess who quit at work today?”

“Who?”

“Sara.”

“No shit! She up and left? Did she say why?”

“No,” Ethan said
, speculating, “I don’t know. Maybe it was me, maybe she had some personal thing going on that made her fight with me, and bail on the job. I don’t know.”

Joe seemed to regard Ethan thoughtfully. Ethan continued.

“She was better than Emily.”

“I know, man. I liked her more than that bitch. Is she still texting you?”

“I haven’t gotten anything from Emily since Friday. Maybe she’s stopped.”

She’ll be at the fight though
, Joe thought to himself,
I bet they both will be. That won’t end well.

But Joe reasoned that Ethan didn’t need to be troubled with any of it. He had the biggest fight of his career coming up, and he needed to be focused, 100% on it. No distractions. And as
Ethan’s friend, Joe wanted to make sure that stayed true.

* * *

The week wore on and Ethan soon found himself consumed with the fervor of the upcoming fight. A few national websites and podcasts wanted him for interviews, and so for the first time in his life, Ethan felt like a quasi-celebrity. Still, when under the burden of a weight cut, the obligations quickly grew exhausting. Often, he found his mind wandering off, wondering where Sara had vanished to. What had made her up and quit. But she was a big girl, mature in her decision making. She was fine, where ever she was.

In a blur, the week passed. Etha
n took Friday off for the weigh-ins. He had a brutal final workout, where he sweated out the last of the water before he stepped on the scale. After sweating out what felt like gallons of water, Ethan dried off and made his way to the site of the weigh in.

The weigh-
in happened in two parts. One was an official affair run by the state’s athletic commission. It was strangely anti climatic. The dozen or so fighters on the card all gathered, and one-by-one stepped on the scale. Ethan saw in the corner of the small room was his opponent: LC Roberts. The man’s face looked older than Ethan remembered it, though Ethan had watched him fight on TV several years prior, and the TV always had a way of hiding age.

Roberts
was wearing a baggy hoodie and sweatpants. Ethan was curious to size of his physique. Sometimes you could infer how well a fighter was prepared based on how he looked. Roberts, in his own interviews, and trumpeted a number of changes to his own training regimen. Ethan and his coaches were curious to see if it was true.

The commission called Ethan’s name, and he rose to the scale. After stripped down to his underwear, he unceremoniously stepped on. He had done this a dozen times before. He made weight with no issue. Thirsty, he sat and began to sip water gently. He watched as
Roberts’ name was called. Ethan’s opponent stepped to scale and stripped Ethan was surprised, Roberts looked good, his body rippled with thick, hard muscle. Roberts had more muscle mass than he ever had in any of his prior fights. Clearly, this new training had paid dividends. Ethan wasn’t sure how to react. His coach whispered in her ear. “Don’t worry, he looks like he didn’t cut that much weight.”