At least he did. Those words comforted him as he ran up Dyckman Street. He passed the Alibi Inn and a white-haired man waved to him from the window. Danny smiled and waved back. Everyone in Inwood knew him as “Champ.” He thought not many knew anything about him other than he was a boxer. The furies that drove him. He passed Sherman Avenue and made a right to avoid Pitt Place.
Danny knew that was where the ghosts lived. 209 Pitt Place. The last time he had seen his wife and baby daughter alive was in their tidy two-bedroom apartment there. He was deep in training out in the Poconos when the house was hit by a crew of home invaders. They came for the money they knew he had hidden in the closet. He had made some offhanded comment to a New York Post boxing writer about not trusting banks, and it cost his family their lives.
That the men were arrested, tried, and convicted with life sentences never gave him peace. That he won the fight was no solace. The only time he felt good was when his fists were pounding another man.
He shook his head to chase that ten-year-old memory away. He turned into the park and picked up his pace as he ran up the first hill. A mother pushing a baby carriage smiled at him when he huffed by. He kept going deeper into the park, deeper into his run. Away from the cruelty of life in New York City. Where the streets can snatch your whole life from you for a few thousand dollars. He went faster. His body felt good. He threw a few punches and let out a grunt.
He turned onto a path through the old woods and now ran on the dirt. As he came to the top of the hill, he saw a man standing in a thicket of bushes. The man looked up and Danny knew it was the guy he called the Mad Russian.
The Mad Russian was a local character who once told Danny his name was Yuri and he was once a Soviet botanist, now reduced to manual labor by the cruel capitalistic system of America. He said he came to the park to study the flora and the fauna. Danny waved to the Russian, but the guy looked through Danny like he wasn’t even there.
Just another New York psycho, Danny thought. The city was full of them, and if he kept it up, Danny Stone would join them. Lonely displaced people haunted by their past. The ghosts of your horrors were always chasing you.
He came out of the park and leaned against a stone wall to stretch his legs. It was a good run. Five miles. Good pace.
Good wind. He was still in shape.
Danny walked down 207th Street and grabbed a newspaper and went into the Loco Diner. There, the waitress, Rosa, smiled at him and motioned him to a front table. She yelled to the cook to make an egg white omelet.
“How was the run, Danny Boy?” Rosa said as she put a cup of coffee down in front of him.
“Good. Five miles in twenty-eight minutes.”
“Damn! You can run.”
“You should come out with me sometime.”
Rosa smacked her wide hips. “Not built for running, and I do enough running around here. Now, if you took me to dinner…”
Danny blushed as Rosa smiled at him. They had been doing this for the last year. Two thirty-five-year-old people acting like school kids. Rosa was pretty enough. A little heavy, but she carried it with a Latin charm.
Danny knew he needed something to change in his life. He was tired of being alone. He was ready. For anything. So he asked.
“Hey, Rosa, so why not?’
“Why not what?”
“Why don’t me and you go out. Tonight. Benny’s Steak House on 194th is good. You want to come with me?”
“You asking me out?”
“I think so.”
“Well, it’s about time.”
“I work slow.”
“I’ll say.”
“So we’ll go. I’ll meet you, like, 7.”
“Yes, Danny, I would like that. I would like that very much. Seven. Now here…” She put his omelet down in front of him. “You better eat this. You might need your strength. You ever been with a Latin woman?”
“Not one as pretty as you.”
Nice line, Danny thought. Rosa smiled and went over to a couple at a booth to take their order. Danny sipped on his coffee and picked at the eggs as he read the lead story:
“Inwood Jogger Missing.”
A twenty-year-old college student had been last seen running through Inwood Park and she never got home. A runaway, Danny thought, as he turned the page and read about a elderly jeweler stabbed on Sixth Avenue. Crime is down in New York, but there’s still enough mayhem to go around.
Danny finished his eggs and gave Rosa a wave as he threw ten dollars down on the table.
“Seven, Champ, I’ll be here,” she called after him.
Danny walked down to Obert’s Gym and said hello to the regulars. He walked past Victor Garcia without saying a word. He put on some light gloves and worked the speed bag.
He loved it when he got the rat-a-tat-tat sound as the bag hit the wood and then his glove with blinding speed.
He walked over to a heavy bag and motioned Khalif Little to hold it. He slammed the bag for three minutes, then held it while Little pounded it. Kid is strong, Danny thought.
The day dragged on. Danny trained a couple of local kids in the ring. He did foot work and shadowboxing with them.
Good kids, but no real boxing talent. They were in the gym because they couldn’t play baseball or basketball. Boxing was their last shot out of Inwood, and it was a cancelled check they were holding.
As Danny moved around the ring his mind kept going back to Rosa. That warm smile. Those big hips. He needed a woman and he needed a fresh start. Maybe she could be the one. That is, if he didn’t knock her out of bed.
Danny decided to skip some rope. Victor Garcia leaned on the ropes and watched him.
“You know, Danny, I was thinking about what you said. Maybe you’re right. You can still fight. I’ll look into it. We could both use a payday, and who knows.”
“You know me, Victor. I never back down from a fight. You get it and I’ll give it my all.”
“You always did, kid. You always did.”
Danny jumped out of the ring and said his goodbyes. He left the gym feeling pretty good. He walked home singing a song from the 1970s. Johnny Nash. “I can see clearly now the rain is gone.”
In his apartment he watched the evening news. A local TV reporter did a story on the missing jogger of Inwood Park. He heard her name. Sara Miller. Twenty. Blond. Pretty. Full of life. Honor student. All the things Danny never was.
The news went on with the weather report and he got ready for his date with Rosa. He took a hot shower, and as he dried off he threw talcum powder on his body. He went to the closet and put on a crisp, white button-down shirt and new black jeans. He thought about a tie and knew that wasn’t him. He looked in the mirror. Not bad, he thought. Slim. Face not too banged up. Maybe Rosa saw something in him.
He threw on a black leather jacket and walked out the door. He stopped at the corner florist and bought a rose. A Rose for Rosa, he said to himself and smiled. He walked with an easy stride and felt good in his body. Then he turned the corner on 207th Street and felt his gut tighten as he saw the Loco Diner.
No time for doubt, he thought, and walked inside with a goofy smile. Rosa was standing there in a flower print dress with her black hair up.
“God. You’re beautiful,” Danny said, handing her the rose.
“A rose. How sweet. Shall we?”
Danny helped her with her coat and then they walked out of the diner. On the street she put her arm in his and matched his stride down Broadway. Danny felt good and kept taking sideway glances at her and smiling.