Ren

'Hit left. BLOCK.'

She missed.

'Sorry.' She replied but it was more politeness than actual care.

'Come on, we've been practising... be ready.' Her Grandfather shouted frustrated. Although, she was certain the only real frustration he had was that she was born a girl. And still, despite setting aside his doubts over woman fighters he was persistent in training her. If only she would be compliant.

'Granddad, I don't want to spar anymore. I'm tired and hungry...' Her lipped quivered. By now, her entire body ached with exhaustion.

He looked at her disappointed, and she could tell he was holding back what he wanted to say.

Every girl should know how to throw one solid punch.

Well, she had that down. Going any further than that was just a hindrance. They went home that evening and she complained to her mother. Like her, her mother wasn't a fighter and had given up, so she understood the resistance. After that, the training stopped and so did pretty much their relationship.

Fifteen years later...

When the bus pulled into town tears stung in her eyes. She had already made peace with the fact this was her new home for the next while. Her Grandfather, the man who raised her, needed support. Being an only child meant that it was her burden, if you could call it that, and hers only.

Opening her phone there was an unread message.

'Take care. We need our lead singer back soon.'

A single tear escaped down her face. Since she gave up her Grandfather's dream of being a fighter, all she wanted to be was a singer and she was so close. Nothing could have stopped her until now. The band had released their first single with her as lead and it had some mediocre success but not enough to cover her rent. Plans to write an album were now put on pause until the foreseeable future, at least while she was away.

She knew how these things worked, the band couldn't wait long. Hopefully, they would wait, at least until she could assess the situation with her Granddad and get what he needed. Otherwise, they'd have to find someone else and she'd have to respect that decision.

She knocked on her Granddads door. Number 56 Dooley Park. Memories of days gone by came back to her. Ice cream vans, playdates in the park, singing with her Granddad... that was until she gave up fighting. Once she gave up on his dreams, he gave up on her dreams too.

'Hello, Ren.'

An old frail man answered the door. A shadow of the strong man she remembered that picked her up as a child and thought her to throw her first punch.

'Hey.' She smiled and felt a softness from him she hadn't felt in years.

He had shrunk since she had seen him last. Now he stooped over his walking stick. He turned back around and went into the living room. She followed him and could hear her feet sticking along the lino floor. His frail body sat in the armchair. On the table beside him, there were several different empty packets of medicine.

'Don't be worrying about all that. You should see what my good friend Jim is on. It's a miracle he's still able to keep his eyes open all day.'

She couldn't help but laugh. He always had a way of making light of situations.

'Won't need me then I take it.'

'This old man can take care of himself.' He laughed again. On the phone two days ago he had told her not to come. She insisted though, there was no way she would leave him to fend for himself. Not after his heart scare. Despite not wanting to come here she missed the old man. And since her mother had passed, he was the only family she had left.

Sitting down on the couch she glanced around the room. Nothing had changed since she was a child. Other than the painting that is and the addition of some photos around the room through various stages of her life and her mother's. From holidays and trips they had, get-togethers and there was even one of Ren singing on stage. It made her feel warm inside. Maybe he still did care about her singing. There were also his meddles from his championship days. In a town this small, he set the tone for the rest of the younger generations who have since produced two professional UFC fighters.

Her Dad turned the TV on and the lotto numbers popped up. She didn't even need to ask. He had played the same numbers for years. A mixture of her birthday, her mother's, and grandmother.

'Don't look at me like that. They're bound to come up.'

His smile returned to the TV, and she found herself smiling too.

'They would have to.'

*

'Do you want anything in the shop?' She asked when he flicked on the kettle. She already knew he was out of milk, but she guessed, he hadn't.

'No darling. I think I'm okay with everything.'

She smiled to herself. While she watched him walk to the fridge and open it.

'Oh, milk actually.'

He turned suspiciously to her, and she pretended to be surprised. Although by the raise of his eyebrows, they both knew it was a white lie.

He has softened over the years.

Walking out the door to the familiar council estate there was a couple of kids with skipping ropes. They barely notice her walk past.

In a day she could see he needed her. The fleeting visit dream was soon abandoned it was looking like she would need to be here for longer than she thought. She had a bit of money but a job to tie her over would be necessary. There could be a way to fit in singing, there had to be...

The corner shop had expanded since she was in it last. They had a deli in the corner now. Picking up milk and a couple of supplies she went to the till. On the way, she passed the notice board, there was a job advertisement for a bar attendant.

She snapped a quick photo of it before bumping into someone by accident. She was carrying way too much as usual and dropped the milk onto the ground. It burst open onto the floor.

'I'm so sorry,' she exclaimed and stepped out of the way but slipped forward and was falling toward the floor with her eyes closed until she felt someone catch her around the waist.

Finding her balance again she straightened and pulled back she could see who caught her. A lightly tanned man, with a beard and his hair was pulled back into a top knot.

'Are you okay? A deep voice asked.

His arms were still holding her up when she noticed the tattoos covering his lightly tanned skin. She felt herself blush.

'Yes, I'm fine. Let me clean that up.'

'Don't you worry about that darling.' The older lady from behind the till was already in front of them with the mop bucket.

'I don't mind, honestly.' She put her hand out to take the mop to help.

'I got it.' The lady swotted them both away. Although gave her rescuer a strange look.

'Do you want me to carry anything?' The handsome stranger looked at her too full arms.

'Honestly, I'm fine. Thank you for the offer.' She cringed at the thought. She'd probably drop something even if it was only one thing.

'If you insist, love.' He gave her a side smile and her knees felt a little weak. The bread slipped in her hand and he caught it.

'I'm sure.' Although her face felt warm again. He winked at her before putting the bread on the counter for her and left the shop.

She carefully placed everything else beside it, got a second milk, paid, and left the shop. Hazard free now she had a bag to put everything in.

She couldn't stop thinking that the stranger looked familiar though.

At home, she cooked a meal for her Granddad and set about doing up her CV. Tomorrow, she'd drop it into the bar and maybe find a way to negotiate a gig on the weekends.