I just know that right now, we want to be proud. For once. We want to take this struggle and rise above it. We want to frame it, live it, survive it. We want to put it in our mouths and taste it and never forget it, because it makes us strong.

Then Rube cuts me open.

He slits my doubt from throat to hip.

He repeats it and answers it. ‘What are we?’ A brief laugh. ‘Who knows what they will see, but if they come and watch us fight, they’ll know that we’re brothers.’

That’s it!

That’s what we are — maybe the only thing I can be sure of.

Brothers.

All the good things that involves. All the bad things.

I nod.

‘So we’ll tell ‘em?’ He’s looking at me now. I see him.

‘Yeah.’

It’s agreed, and I must confess that I myself get obsessed with the idea. I want to run up immediately and tell everyone. Just to let it out of me. Instead, I concentrate on what lies ahead before it. I have three fights of my own to survive, and I must watch Rube fight and the way his opponents fight him. I can’t make the same mistakes they make. I’ve gotta go the distance, and for his sake, I have to give him a fight, not just another win.

To my own surprise, I win my next fight — a points decision.

Right after me, Rube puts the Hitman to bed midway through the fourth round.

The week after, I lose in the fifth, and the last fight before my meeting with Rube is a good one. It’s at Maroubra, and compared to my first ever bout there, this time, I walk in and throw punches without hesitating. I’m not scared of being hit any more. Maybe I’ve grown used to it. Or perhaps I know that the end is near for me. The guy I’m fighting doesn’t come out for the last round. He’s too wobbly, and I feel for him. I know how it feels to not want the last round. I know how it feels to concentrate hard on just standing, let alone even thinking about throwing punches. I know how it is for the fear to outweigh the physical pain.

Watching Rube fight later, I see something.

I find out why no one beats him, or why they don’t even come close. It’s because they don’t think they can win. They don’t believe they can do it, and they don’t want it badly enough.

To survive him, I have to believe I can beat him.

It’s easier said than done.

‘Hey Cam?’

‘It’s about time.’

‘About time for what?’

‘About time you started the talkin’.’

‘I’ve got somethin’ important to say.’

‘Yeah?’

‘We’ll tell ‘em tomorrow.’

‘Y’ sure?’

‘Yes. I’m sure.’

‘When?’

‘After dinner.’

‘Where?’