Neighbourhood Watch

’
‘Shut the … You okay, Meg?’
In an alley, the day is ending. What’s left of two women do laundry.
* * *
The room in the church basement is full. It’s a big night. Big is taking on a young new wrestler, FastAss, with a rounded ass and the face of a champ. Two mothers in sweatsuits are sharing a cigarette and jiggling their strollers. Two teenagers are selling hot dogs and soft drinks between French kisses that are heating up the air. Pot-bellied old friends touch cups with the soft click of plastic, to Big’s health. Backstage, he ties his laces. The master of ceremonies comes over.
‘New game plan, Big … ’
* * *
Run. Run. Run. Kevin crosses Rue Hochelaga, zips between two cars, splits the huddle of prostitutes in two, stumbles, gets back up, run, run run.
* * *
The master of ceremonies in a black tank top announces the match.
‘YO-YO-YO-YO!’
Around the ring, applause, whistles, and shouts.
‘HOW’S EVERYONE DOING TONIGHT?’
The shouts get a little louder. The music keeps pace.
‘OKAY, LET’S GET RIGHT TO IT, ’CAUSE THAT’S HOW WE ROLL, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, LET’S GIVE A BIG HAND FOR OUR MAGIC CHAMPION … THE INCREDIBLE BIIIIG!’
From behind a cloud of smoke, under blood-red lights, ushered in by heavy metal music, Big appears. He walks confidently, grasps some hands around the ring before climbing into it. Takes a lap to cheers, cape fluttering in the wind.
‘YEAH! AND TONIGHT, CHALLENGING OUR NATIONAL TREASURE, BIG, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE WELCOME A NEWCOMER, FASTASS!’
The bells chime from the top of the church: the match is starting.
The basement door opens a crack. Kevin slips through it. All eyes are on the ring. The fat cashier is looking the other way. The spotlight is on the master of ceremonies. Kevin slips in without paying.
Sweating. Happy. He hasn’t missed anything.
The match can start.
DING DING DING
The music fades out; all eyes in the crowd are glued to the ring.
‘LET’S GO, BIG! TAKE THE KID OUT!’
* * *
Meg jabs the syringe into the crook of her arm. A beat. Her face toward the sky.
A sigh that travels across the street.
Mélissa, pressed against a wall, would like to melt into it, become a red brick.
From the other side of the street, her mother’s shadow and an impaled arm.
The arm she would like to have all to herself. That she waits patiently for, always.
This arm broken shrivelled jabbed emptied.
Mélissa vomits on her black shoes.
* * *
In the ring, Big and FastAss signal their hate with trash talk and fake blood.
The crowd is going wild.
‘BIG, BIG, BIG! HAMMER HIM! HAMMER HIM! HARDER!
They are shouting; they are shouting their week away, shouting their heads off; they are fighting without fighting, from their guts, with all of their pent-up rage – you find your winners where you can or you’re through.
It’s a party, so order another hot dog, Big’s going to play hard tonight.
* * *
Meg crumples to the sidewalk. A dull thud, no cry, nothing.
She crumples in silence, which makes it worse.
Mélissa would have crossed the street would have lifted her mother would have got her to her feet would have looked her in the eye would have asked her if she’s okay.
On the other side of the street, Mélissa turns her back and goes home to clean her black shoes.
* * *
Big misses a hold, takes a hit right in the face.
Kevin staggers, takes the hit with him.
The crowd reacts with shouts of holy shit, and Big ends up pinned to the mat.
‘C’MON, BIG! GET UP! KICK HIS HEAD IN!
Big gets up. Straightens his cape on his shoulders. Lifts his head to the kid. Hurls himself at him, yelling.
FastAss moves fast, dekes, turns, smashes him hard in the face with his fist, which the crowd takes in the gut, a fffff, like a wave on lips wet with warm beer travels through the room.
Big is holding his jaw.
Safe in his corner of the ring, the master of ceremonies is thrilled. The show is a hit. That’s how he likes it.
‘LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BIG IS WORN OUT!’
Kevin is hot. Wipes his forehead, his lips are wet – shit, it’s blood – looks at the ring, come on, come on, LET’S GO, BIG! KILL HIM, DAMMIT! YOU CAN DO IT!
Big gets back up, like a projectile. Jumps on FastAss and grabs his head, pulls his hair, pins him against the ropes, rage in his belly, growls, fights, doesn’t want to die – FastAss screams.
The master of ceremonies blows the whistle.
‘LOW BLOW, BIG! LOW BLOW!’
FastAss holds his head, turns to the crowd, points to Big in his corner of the ring.
FastAss is enjoying himself, Big isn’t.
* * *
Mélissa enters the apartment. It’s havoc rather than a home.
She runs warm water over her black shoes.
The boys are asleep in the bedroom. Mélissa goes over to their bed. They are sleeping huddled against each other. Their faces are peaceful and their fists are balled.
They may be dreaming. Or not.
Mélissa spits on them. Once, twice.
* * *
A few boos can be heard in the room.
The opponents are sent to their corners. Silence.
Kevin is sweating heat and blood. He’s shaking in his shoes. Let’s go. Let’s go. Let’s go. Don’t do this to me. You can do it.
The words run in a loop in his head.
The master of ceremonies blows the whistle, and the match resumes. Big charges full throttle at FastAss, who catches him with a hook, sends him flying into the ropes, the crowd reacts, Big pulls himself together, jumps on FastAss.
The crowd is going crazy, and from between the ropes, the master of ceremonies’ eye gleams.
Big grabs a chair and with everything he’s got hits FastAss once, twice, three times, in the face, on the back, in the ribs, take that! and that! and that! The crowd goes wild. FastAss sidesteps, grabs the chair from Big’s hands, throws it into the crowd, leaps on Big, hurls him to the ground, and jumps on him feet together, jumps jumps jumps