Finally, Carmel accepted the money.
After Tyson left home, he arrived at the training hall. Today was Sunday, and he intended to call Teddy for a drive to Brooklyn.
Without hesitation, Teddy agreed. The two drove directly to Brooklyn, where the streets echoed with a history marked by struggle and resilience.
Tyson felt a sense of familiarity as they rolled through the neighborhoods. Although he hadn't grown up here, the essence of Brooklyn was unmistakable. Rarely had he returned in recent years, and when he did, it was often for mere fleeting visits.
"Hey, Mike!" a voice called out. A strong man dressed in loose-fitting clothes approached their car.
Tyson recognized him instantly. This was Bakim—a figure from his past, who he remembered as a fellow adventurer through the tumult of youth. They had often danced with trouble together, but that didn't define Bakim; in a place like this, survival required a certain toughness.
Tyson gestured for Teddy to stop the car. "Hey, Bakim! Long time no see."
The two exchanged a fist bump, and Bakim's gaze shifted to Teddy in the passenger seat. "Who's the white guy?"
Tyson replied, "That's my friend."
"Your friend? A white guy?" Bakim raised an eyebrow.
"Absolutely. He's my friend," Tyson insisted.
Bakim shook his head in disbelief. "Hope he treats you right, man."
"No worries. We respect each other."
Teddy stepped out, calling back to Tyson, "You good?"
"Definitely!" Tyson replied, turning back to Bakim.
As he reached for his wallet, it slipped from his pocket and fell to the ground. Bakim instinctively bent down to help, picking up a few photos that had fluttered out.
"Who are they?" Bakim inquired, handing the photos back.
Tyson took them, revealing images of his family—Kus and Carmel. "That's my family."
"Man, you must be proud. They look like they love you a lot," Bakim said, a hint of envy in his voice.
"Yeah, they do. Anyone who messes with me will hear about it."
Bakim smiled, a glimmer of hope in his tone. "Mike, I'm genuinely happy for you. I wish I had that kind of support."
Tyson replied, "I'm heading to visit my mom," before getting back into the car.
He arrived at a modest, run-down house. It might have been empty, but Eddie was there, her boyfriend.
"Hey, Mike!" Eddie greeted him.
"Eddie."
"Your mother stepped out but should be back soon."
"I'll wait." They chatted for a bit; Eddie was stocky and not heavily educated, but well-meaning. He and May had a passionate relationship filled with ups and downs—fierce arguments followed by tender moments.
Eventually, May returned, arms full of bags. Upon seeing Tyson, her face lit up as she dropped everything to embrace him. "Oh, my baby!"
Tyson, now taller than her, enveloped her in his embrace. May had always missed him since he moved away as a teenager; perhaps that separation deepened her affection.
Taking his hand, she led him into the house, asking about his life and Kus's well-being in the process. After they caught up, Tyson presented her with a bag containing ten thousand dollars.
"What's this?"
"Money I earned from boxing."
Stunned, she opened it to reveal neatly stacked bills. "How did you make so much at just 16?"
She hesitated to accept it.
"Mom, please. You and Eddie could really use this. Better living conditions; no more drinking."
May had cut back on drinking since Tyson left, but she was still resistant to accept. The pride of a mother shone through her reluctance.
Yet, Tyson's unwavering insistence slowly melted her resistance.
As their car drove away, May's face glowed with pride. She seemed to declare to the world, "Look, my son is not a statistic; he's on his path."
Next to her, Eddie wrapped his arms around her, affirming, "Mike's our hope."
With Monday came the return of Tyson's routine. He focused on training, brushing off the whispers of classmates who dared to speak behind his back but didn't have the courage to confront him directly.
In the following month, Tyson fought in three matches with the Smokers. One of his opponents, a boxer bringing his family along for support, was knocked out within half a minute. Another young fighter, only 17 years old and very tenacious, managed to withstand Tyson's fierce barrage for three rounds before the referee intervened.
After those three fights, Tyson earned a total of eight thousand dollars, bringing Teddy the same amount as well. Teddy's excitement grew, even revealing plans for an engagement.
Nielsen had approached Tyson multiple times, seeking his entry to the Terrence Stadium fights. But Tyson declined; he understood Nielsen's perspective, yet repeated refusals led to a frustrating deadlock. Kus remained steadfast, protecting Tyson from entering those bouts too soon.
One day, Tyson returned home, and Kus called him aside.
"Mike, I want you to compete in the regional Golden Gloves Championship," Kus announced.
The Golden Gloves had long been a prestigious amateur boxing event, with champions like Holyfield and Ali having emerged from its ranks. The opportunity was significant, especially for someone Tyson's age.
"Absolutely! What do I need to do?" Tyson responded eagerly.
"Just keep up with your training," Kus replied.
Tyson nodded, switching on the TV to watch boxing footage while Kus spoke softly, a mix of excitement and certainty in his voice.
"Mike, you'll illuminate that championship. You'll win and ascend like Ali did—local, state, then national. You'll strike like a whirlwind."
He continued, "Those who doubt us will quiet down. We're far from dormant; we'll seize our moment and make the world notice."
"Am I right, Mike?" Kus's eyes sparkled with conviction.
"Yes, Kus. You're absolutely right."
Kus nodded, lost in his vision of what was to come.
That evening, Teddy and Tyson met at a Western restaurant, where Teddy rubbed his palms nervously.
"I'm feeling anxious, Mike."
Tyson chuckled. "Nerves are normal, Teddy. Everyone feels that way."
"What if she senses all this attention and gets scared?" Teddy asked, his brows furrowing.
"Does she love you?" Tyson replied simply.
"Of course! We're in love."
"Then she'll feel your excitement, not fear. Trust me," Tyson said, settling back in his chair.
Their conversation paused when a striking woman in a white top and black skirt passed by outside.
"Look! She's here!" Tyson announced, standing up and moving toward the restaurant's entry where Tommy, another boxer, waited.
"Is she here, then?"
"Yes!" Tyson confirmed, as Serena walked in.
"Teddy, she's here," Tyson called as he gestured for Serena to join their table.
Serena was stunning, with bright eyes and an adorable sprinkle of freckles, but she sensed something was off that day.
"There aren't many guests tonight," she observed.
"Yeah, we might've arrived late," Teddy suggested, trying to maintain his composure.
The waiter arrived with menus, and they ordered their meals, the atmosphere buzzing with unspoken excitement and anticipation.