‘Woah, woah,’ I ducked under a wild left hook, giving Renee a tap on the ribs with the training gloves to get her attention.
She let out a grunt and spat her mouth guard onto the mat, walking to the corner with her head in her hands. I gave her a second to cool off, and she came back to me.
‘What was that?’ I asked her. ‘You looked like you were trying to take my head off.’
‘Isn’t that the point?’ she asked, her heart obviously still pounding.
‘Not that sloppily, it isn’t. What happened?’
‘Nothing,’ she huffed, reaching into her locker for a water bottle. ‘I’m fine.’
‘There’s clearly something bothering—’
‘I said I’m fine!’ Renee snapped, slamming the locker door shut so hard it felt like the building rattled.
We stood in the silence for a heartbeat or two, and she collected herself a little.
‘Sorry,’ she eventually sighed, dropping down to sit on the bench.
‘What’s going on Renee?’
‘It’s… it’s my eyes,’ she said, tears beginning to form. ‘They’re getting worse.’
‘Worse?’ I asked, concerned. ‘Worse how?’
‘Worse like I can barely see where you are when I’m boxing you.’
‘Yikes, that’s—’
‘Sucky for a boxing champ, I know,’ she said dryly. ‘I’ve been trying to find an eye care specialist available near Brighton, but they all know me too well. It’d get out, and then my career would be over.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘Name one other blind boxer,’ she rolled her eyes. ‘I need this to stay between us.’
I chewed on the top of my thumb and began to pace.
‘Bryce? Are we clear? Between us.’
‘What if there was somewhere you could go where you could guarantee nobody would know you?’
‘What? Like outta town?’
‘No need,’ I grinned. ‘What about a behavioural optometrist?’
‘Did I hit you too hard?’ she frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You have to admit it’s kind of genius,’ I chuckled.
‘No, it’s ridiculous,’ she said. ‘Maybe… maybe just ridiculous enough to work…’