Adam stole an anxious glance at Lili's phone when he arrived at the gym: 13:04. Ugh! Military time made him uneasy. In fact, anything involving the army did. Hurry! You're wasting daylight.

Somehow he had not expected the guy at the front desk to let him in without giving him so much as a look. Then again, this was the new Caracas. Long gone were those warm smiles that Venezuelans were famous for in the past.

The light on the turnstile changed from red to green after Adam pressed his thumb on a sensor. There was a loud click before he moved forward. How is this still here? He wondered, surprised someone hadn't bashed it by now.

Magdala was nowhere and, perhaps because of how he smelled, no one came close to Adam as he walked to the shower room. Perfect. Wouldn't have it any other way. His eyes darted from the worn-out exercise equipment to the small boxing ring where two young kids were sparring. The 'gym,' Magda refused to let anyone call it a health club or, God forbid, a fitness center, had changed little. The same incandescent bulbs hanging by sinuous cables from the ceiling, the same faded posters showing the pinnacle of female physique from the eighties, the same metallic dumbbells and barbells that have been patched up more often than they cared to admit.

Maybe I traveled back in time, he smiled. Heck! I think the guy in the corner hasn't stopped jumping rope since I left years ago.

"Better than sex," Adam said, stepping in the shower. The thick stream of running water impressed him, but finding out the boiler worked to perfection was a gift from heaven. "Oh, yes!"

Hot steam filled the bathroom.

The sink handle leaked, the wooden bench below the chipped lockers had seen better days, the door in the toilet cubicle didn't close, the big mirror, with its brown stained edges, had a crack right down the middle and yet, despite it all, Adam wouldn't have preferred being anywhere else.

As the scorching hot shower burnt his stress away, and the fresh fragrance of the powder laundry detergent (Magda had stopped buying soap bars because people always stole them) vanished the awful stench, Adam felt better. The strong water pressure massaged his aching muscles, leaving him drowsy.

"Hello?" Adam said after hearing a rusty, creaking noise.

This was the perfect excuse to step out. Otherwise, he risked staying there forever.

Half-dressed, Adam glanced at his folded sweatshirt on top of the sink. Once more, the Tic Tacs package tempted him. He could almost taste the pills inside it. Take one, he thought. It is not cheating if it helps you stay in control.

He wiped away the condensation from the bathroom mirror and found there was someone behind him.

"Shit, Magda, you scared the bejeezus out of me."

His old friend and former boxing instructor squinted at him. She was a small, stern-faced woman in her late forties. Broad in the shoulders, narrow at the hips, age had not weakened her complexion one bit. Her hair is graying, though. Everyone in sports knew if a litany of injuries had not shortened her career, an Olympic gold medal would have been hanging from her neck.

"It's fine," she said.

"What?"

Magda pointed at the Tic Tacs.

"You walked in like Pepé Le Pew, but your breath is fine."

"Didn't think you saw me."

"This is my house. I'm God here. Nothing escapes me—not even your shaky hands."

Adam dropped his gaze and put the pills back in his pocket.

"That's how I named you in my contact list: GOD. All caps and everything. Not that I needed it there, it's one of the few phone numbers I memorized."

"Is that supposed to make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside?" She drew closer to him. "What are you doing here?"

"Shouldn't you welcome back the prodigal son with open arms?"

"I'm Old Testament. More about plagues and revenge, less forgiving."

Adam threw his dirty clothes in the wastebasket.

"Well, I'm not a Christian anymore. So you have no power over me."

Magda pressed her fist on his chest. Her knuckles were like stones.

"Once a Christian, always a Christian."

"That's not how it works."

"Get in the ring."

Is she for real? One look at her face was enough. Fine! The best I can do is play along. Leave her in a good mood.

Magda didn't seem like much, but she carried a lot of weight with every person in the neighborhood. The older people remembered her by her glory days; the younger ones liked her because her gym was a haven where a warm shower and a hot meal had their names on it (if they followed the rules).

The guy jumping rope, the few who were shadow boxing, and everyone else holding a dumbbell stopped what they were doing. Sparring with Magda had been an everyday thing for Adam during his rehab. Nothing out of the ordinary. Have really none of them seen her fight? He wondered when every eye fixed on the ring.

"Ready?" Magda put on her gloves.

Adam nodded.