Pen

Four days had gone by, and I was beyond annoyed with Norma-Jean. She wouldn't stop saying my name, singing it every time she passed me as if it were a song on the radio. The girl was a brat, and I didn't think I could keep my temper in check any longer. Even now, she was sweeping the kitchen and singing my name in different octaves. Was this really what I wanted to live with? (Yes it was, and still is.)

I had to admit, at first it was a little funny to hear her say it, especially after such a long time of not hearing my own name. But after the second day, I was fed up and hated even the slightest mention of it again. My birth mother must have hated me to have given me such a horrid name, but the only reason I hadn't changed it was because it was the only connection I had to her. The memories were distant and a little hazy, but I still remember her calling out to me. Her voice was soft, and due to her fragile state she never yelled. That's about all the memory I have of her.

"N-Na-Narcissus," Norma sang, and I groaned out loud as I laid on the couch.

"Literally, Norma-Jean, shut up," I said, then buried my face in the cushion.

I grunted when I felt myself sink into the couch, and Norma jumping onto my back to sit down. This girl made me feel old with how child-like she could be, and I wasn't even that much older than her. She was bouncing on my spine, and it felt as if she were trying to break me in two. My name rolled off her tongue with each bounce, and I thought pieces of my soul left me as well. Pushing myself up from the couch, I sent her flying forward and she did a handspring over the coffee table.

With her hands in the air, she struck a pose as if she had just finished a performance. It was kind of cute, and her athletic ability still surprised me. She was fresh out of high school and Army, but I wasn't sure what she did in either. Her mobility in just about any piece of clothing was also astounding; she could run in heels and a skirt, enough said.

"Shit," she exclaimed as she glanced at her phone, "I missed my bus."

I opened my mouth to say something, but quickly closed it back. She didn't know I had a car or motorcycle, which she would question how I could afford both on an income she also doesn't know about. One day I was going to tell her, but I didn't know when that day would be. So offering to give her a ride was out of the question.

"I guess this number might come in handy after all," she said, and I inadvertently sat up at that.

"Whose number," I asked, because she never told me about it.

"Just a coworker's, he gave it to me last Friday."

"He? Last Friday? And I'm just now hearing about it?"

She nodded her head at each of my questions, then pressed her phone to her ear. I hadn't bought her the phone so she could call other guys, I bought her the phone so she could call me. (Wow, that sounded so much less selfish in my head.)

I folded my arms over each other as I listened to her talk, asking Kyle for a ride. Fucking Kyle, I didn't like him, giving my Puddin his number.

Norma ended her call, then looked over at me as I continued to grumble to myself. She pushed the phone down into her pants pocket, then came over and sat next to me. Her leg brushed against mine, and I childishly moved away from her to put space between us. I saw her frown, but she didn't come any closer.

"Why are you pouting?"

"I'm not pouting."

Rolling her eyes, Norma turned her body toward me as she crossed her own arms. "Yes, you are."

Scrunching my face, I mumbled under my breath. She told me to speak up, but I tightened my lips closed instead. I didn't want to repeat myself, because I was being selfish. Taking my face in her palm, Norma made me look at her stoic face as she made me tell he what I had said.

"I don't like that you made a new friend," I repeated, and she scoffed as she dropped her hand.

"Kyle isn't my friend. He's too much of a cardboard cutout to be my friend," she replied, and I tried not to smile at her words.

Norma was still mine only. I had been alone for too long, and if she was taken from me I didn't know what I'd do. She was basically all I had, because over the course of eight weeks, I had become dependent on her. Not just for her presence, but for comfort, support, and encouragement. To say the least, she was the main pillar in my life.

I watched as my pillar stood to her feet, then leaned down to wrap her arms around my neck. She smelt like marshmallows, which was an interesting scent but I liked it. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply into her shoulder and clenched my fists against her back. The hug was an awkward position, but if I could breath her in forever, I wouldn't mind staying like this.

"Alright," she said, breaking away from me to my disappointment, "my ride is here. I'll see you when I get back."

"Have a good day at work," I said, crestfallen that I couldn't hold her longer.

With a smile, she bounced out of the door and I flopped back on the couch. What was I going to do? I didn't have any clients today, and I wasn't in the mood for television. Once I got used to living with someone else, I almost forgot what it was like to be by myself. I don't miss the silence of loneliness at all.

A day at the gym sounded wonderful. My schedule had been so busy with clients this month that I barely had time to get in a decent workout. And after that phone call from Old Man about going out of business this week, I needed to get there at least once before the doors closed for good.

I packed my duffel with a pair of shorts, shoes, a towel, and hand tape. Eyeing the drawer I kept money in, I grabbed my keys to unlock it then picked up a small stack of bills. There was no way I was letting him close up shop, not after all the hard work he put into keeping it open for so long. Careless Old Man, just giving up without a fight.

After taking the train, I took the familiar walk to the training center. I shook my head at the sign taped to the doors that read: CLOSING SOON. Yanking the door open, I stalked up to the front desk where a young boy was lounging in a chair with his headphones on. The boy jumped up when I knocked hard on the desk, and snatched his headphones off as he welcomed me.

"Give this to the owner as an anonymous donation. If asks for my description, tell him you didn't see my face," I said, then walked toward the back of the building.

Old Man wasn't lying when he said the place was emptying out. I could have counted the total amount of people on my hands, and still have two fingers left over. Going to the locker room, I changed clothes then went to the back of the center to the boxing area. There weren't any bags up, the balloons had been taken down, and the mannequins were all gone. The only thing still standing was the ring, and it didn't even have ropes anymore. He really was shutting this place down.

"Look what the wind done blew in!" I heard a gruff laugh come from behind me, and turned to face the elder. "Ain't seen ya in a month of Sundays, Boy."

"Hey, Old Man," I greeted, meeting him halfway in a short embrace.

I kept my arm around his shoulder as we stood side by side, and let out a heavy sigh. He squeezed my shoulder to comfort me, but I was frustrated. There had to be something more I could do to help him. Staring at the ring, an idea that I said I'd never do surfaced in my head.

"You got any matches set before you close up," I asked, turning my head to look him in the eyes.

"Just one, a girls match, why?"

"If you can find another man willing to throw down, sign me up."

A frown formed on his aging face, and he dropped his hand from my shoulder. This was not the reaction I expected, nor was I hoping for. I agreed to fight, and he didn't seem happy at all.

"Boy, don't go pulling my leg," he said, and I shook my head.

"I, Boy, solemnly swear that I am not pulling your leg."

He stared at me for a minute, before a smile stretched across his face. That was what I wanted to see, and I was glad he was happy again. Old Man clapped me on the back, then walked toward the locker room. There was a skip in his step as he went, and I smiled as I set off for the equipment room.

Everything had been stocked inside the space, and I grabbed a practice dummy to start with. I stuck the dummy in a hole in the matting of the floor, then flexed my hands to get used to the wrap. Throwing a punch to the chest, I frowned at how little force went into it; I was rusty. Stretching out my arms, I got down to do a few push-ups before going back to the mannequin. I assaulted the piece of plastic again, this time putting mor force into the blow. The dummy rocked from the impact: I smiled, that was it.

With every muscle in my body expanding and contracting, I worked until the sweat dripping down my face blinded me. The tension in my body felt great, the burn of the workout coursed through each and every fiber of my body. Laying down on the blue matted floor, I heaved as I tried to catch my breath. I felt amazing.

"Making up for lost time," Old Man asked, and I turned my head to face him.

"I've been eating good lately, need to shed a few pounds," I exhaled with a laugh.

"You got a lady in your life?"

Norma popped into my head instantly, and I sat up as I rested my forearms on my knees. I smiled as I looked down through the space of my arms.

"Something like that."

She wasn't my lady, but she was in my life and that counted for something. We spent almost all of our time together, and I never felt alone or lonely anymore because of her. I had someone to call a friend, which was all I needed.

"Bring her to the match," he said, and I knew he wasn't asking.

"Yea, okay," I said, then took the hand he offered to me as I stood to my feet. "I've got to get home before she does."

"Y'all living together?" The surprise on his face was clear, and I covered my mouth as I nodded. He had the wrong idea, but I wasn't going to change his mind. Why fix something that wasn't broken?

"Take care, Old Man," I smiled, then left for the locker room. I took a quick shower, then changed back into my street clothes. As I exited the gym, I opened a side pocket on my bag to grab my phone and saw an envelope stuffed inside. Pulling it out, I read the scrawled note on the front: I don't need your money, Boy. Stubborn old man. I shook my head as I put the money away, then walked toward the train station.

The sun was just beginning to set behind the horizon of buildings, and I thanked Daylight Saving Time for the extra hour of morning. As I glossed over my surroundings, I noticed the opening of an alley next to a record shop. It was the same alleyway that I had first seen Norma-Jean; I couldn't help but smile at the not-too-distant memory. Only two months had gone by, but it seemed like a year. How could time have been moving so slow yet so fast all at once?

Glancing up at the now orange sky, I sighed in content as I started down the street again. Life was good for me, and it was all because of Norma. And now I was on my way home to her, my Puddin.