My goal was to write something that was a little sweet and little romantic. I wanted to create a story where an attraction was evident early but true affection grew slowly. Hopefully, I came reasonably close to succeeding and I'm sure I'll hear about it if I didn't. Thanks for taking the time to read Contract Extensions.
* * * * *
Jerry Hernandez was one of the best boxers of his age. He was also my brother and my hero. He was a successful welterweight when the division was at its peak. Jerry moved up and down weight classes but fought most often at one-forty-seven. He went up against all the greats and won about as much as he lost in those fights.
In an era of bangers like Duran and Hearns, he was a pugilist. If I ever needed a lesson in subjectivity, I would read what the sports writers had to say about him. They detailed his defensive genius and his supposed lack of power. The few times I stepped into the ring with him, his punches felt like I was getting hit by a car. Of the three of us brothers, Jerry was the only one who was athletically gifted.
I believe that it was his defensive genius that allowed him to keep his mental faculties. He was as sharp in the post-fight interviews after his final bout as he was the first time he stepped into a ring. Maybe that's what allowed him to keep most of his money, unlike many of his contemporaries. In spite of stepping into the ring numerous times a year with some of the most dangerous men on the planet, he was the kindest man I've ever known.
He put me through college, and as a graduation gift, he bought me a house on the same block he had purchased one for each of our two sisters, my other brother and our mother. We lived a charmed life due to his willingness to have other men try to knock him out for a living. Every summer we would have block parties that he would pay for. If you were family, a friend or a fan, there was always a place for you.
Jerry spent his days in his beloved garden, hanging out with his nieces and nephews or at the gym he founded in a nearby, low-income neighborhood. The gym had an adjacent, smaller building that was set up like a schoolroom. He hired high school kids from the honor society to tutor younger children. Membership at the gym didn't have a financial fee, but he insisted on seeing report cards and had every kid that came there help out somehow. Some tutored, some cleaned and some mowed the lawn but everyone contributed.
They came to learn to box but what he was really teaching was confidence, self-discipline and the importance of community.
* * * * *
In spite of the normal heartache that enters every family, our lives were happy and without serious strife until he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He didn't have health insurance and I blame myself for not talking to him about his finances and planning. Jerry had a guy that was supposed to take care of it and some of his money but the idiot dropped the ball. Cancer was a hell of a preexisting condition and getting new insurance proved impossible. He was well off, but the cancer stripped him of not only his vitality and eventually his life but also his money.
I effectively moved in with him towards the end. We would talk, watch videos of his fights and tend to his garden. Once or twice a week we would slowly walk to my house where he would sit by the garden and I would tend to it. We had a tradition in the family where we all kept gardens but we alternated what we grew. We'd get together every few days and split the bounty amongst us.
It was the education that he had paid for that allowed me the luxury of spending my time as I liked. I was a programmer and had developed software used, ironically, in the home healthcare industry. I sold it and rolled the money over into a number of tech companies.
I got out before the bubble burst and was left with enough money to live sensibly for the rest of my life or to live like an idiot for a decade or so. I continued to create apps to keep my hands in the industry and to keep my mind sharp. The greatest benefit of the money I earned was that I was able to keep my brother comfortable when his ran out. He received the medicine, treatment and help he needed and I got to pay off some of the debt I owed to the man I loved most in the world.
Although our nieces and nephews came over often, our siblings started to withdraw when they realized that he couldn't outpoint death with his deft head movement and quick feet. They soon realized that his money was being swallowed whole by his treatment and that hastened their departure from any meaningful part of his life.
How they treated him was almost as painful to me as his dying was. I couldn't and still can't understand how a woman as brilliant, caring and generous as our mother could raise people as disparate as my brother and my other siblings. One was as giving as the day is long and the others driven purely by avarice. She was an amazing woman and it certainly wasn't her fault. I guess that they never realized that what he had wasn't their due.
I haven't spoken to any of them since the funeral.
I mowed his lawn and worked on his garden while his home was on the market. It helped me feel closer to him and push off that inevitable feeling of loss I knew was coming when someone eventually moved in.
* * * * *
The breeze coming down from the hills was cool for once. Beautiful weather, an ice cold Shiner Bock and a comfortable chair made my porch a perfect late spring oasis. It was my daily routine to relax before supper and read any new tech articles. As I skimmed through something about problems with Google's corporate culture, the moving van pulled into the driveway at Jerry's house. I immediately realized that I would have to stop calling it that, even if it was only in my head. I put my glasses on the table next to my chair and watched as the men moved box after box into the house.
About twenty minutes after the movers arrived a large sedan pulled up with a woman and three kids. She popped the trunk and they all started hauling boxes and some bags into the house. I found them annoying. They didn't fit in the neighborhood, I could tell that right away. She was beautiful but seemed snooty and the kids would be a loud annoyance. Her husband probably wouldn't wait a week before trying to borrow some tools.
Yeah, I wouldn't be thinking any of this if they moved into a different house. I knew that but I didn't really care. I was annoyed and I wanted to indulge my anger and self-pity. My brother was taken from me. The rest of my family were ingrates. Screw these people. I closed the laptop, grabbed my glasses and beer and went inside.
* * * * *
There was a persistent knocking around seven in the evening the next day. I looked out the window as I made my way to the door and saw the woman that moved into Jerry's house. She was standing across the street in front of Mrs. Cruz house, and her two daughters were knocking on the Cruz's door. Her hair fell just passed her shoulders and she kept kept her attention divided between her children.
I opened my door to see a nine or ten-year-old boy standing there with a plate of cookies wrapped in cellophane.
"Hi! I'm Ted Frost! We just moved in over there." he pointed to Jerry's house, "We made some cookies!" He might be the most enthusiastic kid I'd ever met. His mother must have told him to be cheerful. Looking across the street I could see the same thing was playing out with Mrs. Cruz and the two girls, one Caucasian, the other Asian. Ted was black.
I plastered a smile on my face, smiled and nodded at his mom. She gave a little wave.
"Thanks, Ted. Tell your mom and dad I said thanks."
"I'll tell Mom. Dad's dead."
What the hell do you say to that? I had no idea, so I changed the topic.
"Did you help with the cookies?"
"I helped with the chocolate chip ones! The girls helped with the oatmeal raisin." Ted was way too excited about these cookies. Or moving here. Or life in general.
"Ok, well, they look great. Thanks again." I started to step back in the house.
"Are there any kids around here?" I guess I wasn't going inside.
"Ah, not on this block. Sorry." I didn't feel like explaining that there were, but my brother and sisters were assholes who moved as soon as their meal ticket was gone and they took their children with them. For the first time, he didn't seem like his world was comprised of rainbows and puppies.
"Ok. Enjoy the cookies." He jumped from the porch, skipping the stairs and jogged out to his mom. I waved again and went back inside with my plate of guilt. I guess I couldn't really hate them too much at this point.
* * * * *
The truck rumbled down the street as I sat on the porch, again enjoying a beer while doing some research. It stopped at Jerry's house and the delivery men started unloading furniture. Two trucks in three days. There was no way that they were going to fit that much stuff in the house.
The car from yesterday was gone and the moving men staged everything in the front yard, presumably waiting for the woman to arrive. I glanced over occasionally and when I saw where they were putting the last of the items, I jumped up and made my way over.
"Hey!" I called as I crossed the street. "You can't can't put that there."
They both looked at me and then at each other. "On the lawn?"
"No, I don't care about the lawn. Over here. You're crushing the plants."
