raging and her face red with anger. âThis business about waiting until the second round to reveal heâs a lefty is crap, Sandy. Itâs a gimmick. And if you donât get Byrne to keep on the inside, heâll never make it to a national title. Never.â
âAnd how many rounds have you gone in the ring?â
Iâd hoped that Ryan Byrne would have stood up for Tina. Said something â anything. But as usual, he left my sister in the dust. I donât know why she wanted to be bothered with him, and I wasnât going to hang around and watch her be dismissed like that, so I headed across the road, leaving my father and Tina to duke it out, as usual.
âHi, Azalea,â I muttered, closing the door behind me. She had her radio tuned to a jazz station and turned it down when I came in.
âWhatâs wrong? The two of them at it again?â
I took a cola from the refrigerator and checked my pocket for change.
âItâs on the house,â said Azalea. âThat is if youâll sit a spell and tell me whatâs going on.â
She opened two pops, and we sat down outside on the step. The skinny ash trees that grew up on each side of the store cast long shadows in the late afternoon sun, but the concrete felt warm under my legs. Cars passed by us, leaving dusty clouds that lazily drifted past.
âWe could use some rain,â said Azalea, looking up at the pale blue sky like she was waiting for it to start any time.
I realized I hadnât answered her question.
âMy father and Tina canât agree about Ryan Byrne.â
âOh, I see.â She took several sips of pop. âWell, I wonât take sides, thatâs for sure, but your daddy, now he was quite a boxer himself back in the day. Must know something.â
âEver see him fight?â
âI sure did. Many times. I didnât get down to the matches in Halifax, but when my boys were young, I took them to every fight around here. And this was the place to be for boxing twenty years ago. Your daddy fought at the old Venetian Gardens, before it burned down, and in New Waterford and right here in the Pier.â
âThat must have been soon after he moved up from Springhill, with my mother.â
âYes, I guess it was. He was working in the Glace Bay mine then, and boxing every chance he could get.â She smiled. âOh, your father was exciting to watch. Most of his opponents couldnât last three rounds with him. Everyone thought heâd go straight to the top, but thenâ¦.â Her expression changed.
âYeah, I know. He injured his hand somehow.â
âShattered every bone. Never fought again.â Azalea looked across the road to the gym. Then back up at the sky. âIn 1963, it was. Just after your motherââ
âAfter she died?â
âYes, Ellie.â She took another sip of her cola, then poured a few drops out for a tiny ant that crawled over the step beside her. âYou know, you look more like her every day.â
âThatâs what my father told me,â I said, and she put her arm around my back. I loved talking to Azalea, and I think she liked having me around, especially since her daughter didnât live in Sydney.
âIs Bonita coming home for the summer?â I asked. Azalea had four children, and Bonita, the only girl, was the eldest in the family. She taught school in Truro, and I was hoping to ask her about becoming a teacher myself.
âSheâll be here tomorrow. Sheâs going to spend a few days with me, then sheâs driving down through the New England states. Wants to visit the historical sights. You know Bonita.â
âAre you going with her?â
âNo, Ellie,â replied Azalea. âIâd like to, but I canât leave the store for that long of a time.â She pointed across the road at Tina who was heading our way. âHere comes your sister now.â
Azalea went
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