A week later, Mae was walking back from the stores with Rosy
when she saw a shiny new car drive away from their apartment
house. Joe Gould's car.
She found Jim standing in the yard behind the building. He
looked so happy, so handsome and confident in the sun, with his
square chin and his bright eyes up to the blue sky. Then he turned
and Mae felt her heart stop. She saw it in his eyes—the old
excitement.
"Joe was here," said Jim. "He thinks they'll let me box again."
It was hard for Mae to speak. "You said it was one fight."
"It's my chance, Mae, to make you and the kids proud."
Mae fought to control her fear and anger. "I am proud . . .
and grateful. But what would we do if something bad happened
to you? Something worse than a broken hand, so you couldn't
work?"
She couldn't even tell her worst fear: What will happen if you're
killed?
"What would happen to us?" demanded Mae. "To the children?
We're hardly managing now."
Jim shook his head sadly. He waved a hand at the broken
building, the empty yard. Couldn't she see? He was already killing
himself-—and for what? A few coins at the end of a long day's
work? "I have to do better than I'm doing," he replied.
Mae stepped closer. "Things are better now. Please, Jim . . ."
He wanted to take her in his arms, but he stopped himself. He
had to think about the family's future. The strength was clear in his
voice. "I can still take a few punches. At least in the ring you know
who's hitting you."
Mae felt helpless as she watched him walk to the building's dark
back door. This isn't over, James Braddock, she promised.