His foot comes down and he takes a small step back before regaining his balance. He looks totally unfazed.
We’re still feeling each other out when the first round comes to a close.
So far, I’m still feeling pretty good, though I’m a bit more tired than I should be after that kind of round. I’m expecting Logan to come over and tell me all the things he thinks I’m doing wrong, but he just hands me a water bottle and says, “Keep it up. Don’t let him fool you, he’s not as comfortable on his feet as you are.”
I nod and hand the water back to him after taking a few quick sips from it.
Round two starts.
He hits me with a hard kick to the head and I’m staggered a moment, not quite sure which way is up and which is the other one. I forget its name.
Furyk moves in, trying to get close enough for a grapple and possible takedown, but I throw a quick left to back him up. I didn’t expect the blow to land, but it does and with a sick cracking sound as his head snaps back and he falls stiff to the ground.
For a moment, I feel about as stunned as Furyk is, but a second later, I’m on top of him with my ground-and-pound game until the official stops the fight a moment later to a loud, almost even mix of cheers and booing.
I can’t believe that just happened.
The way he clocked me to begin the round, I thought I was on my way out, but it looks like “Mitch’s Bitches” are going to have to help the guy out of the building.
Still, I’m unsteady on my feet as I walk to the edge of the crowd and wrap my sweaty, though surprisingly unbloodied, self around her. It doesn’t take her long to realize it’s not just an affectionate gesture. I’m having trouble staying up.
“Let’s get you out of here,” she says. “Logan!” she calls out loudly, though he’s standing right behind her.
“You need Tom?” Logan asks.
“I’m fine,” I answer. “I just need to walk it off.”
“I’ll be honest, man,” Logan says. “When that kick landed, I thought you were done.”
“You and me both,” I tell him and release my grip on Ash, immediately stumbling.
Ash and Logan both reach out and grab me. Putting one of my arms around each of their shoulders, they walk me to the door of the building.
“I’ve got to stay,” Logan says. “Do you think you two can make it to your car all right?”
“We’ll figure it out,” Ash says, though a couple of guys from the pit happen upon the scene and offer their assistance.
The way back to the car is more than a little embarrassing as these guys I barely know go on about how awesome they think I am. I appreciate being appreciated, but this is just awkward.
Finally, we get to the car and I convince the two guys that acted as my crutches on the walk that we can take it from here. They’re still standing there as we pull onto the road.
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” she says. “I never should have let you walk that whole way. I should have had you wait at the building, and I could have picked you up out front.”
“I don’t think the guys would have appreciated the unsolicited advertisement,” I tell her. “I’m fine, really. I just got a little rocked, that’s all.”
“Still,” she says, “I think we should get you checked out just to be on the safe side. Your pupils are round and responsive, but you didn’t see the kick from where I was standing. I’m surprised you still had a head when he dropped the leg.”
“I probably should have changed first,” I tell her as my sweaty back sticks to her faux-leather seats.
“Put on a shirt when we get to the hospital,” she says. “Other than that, don’t worry about it. How are you feeling? Are you nauseated at all? Is there any lightheadedness or confusion?”
“Ash,” I tell her, “I’m fine.”
“What’s your birthday?” she asks.
“April twelfth of ninety-five,” I tell her.
“What’s my birthday?” she asks.