For Everything a Reason by Paul Cave

clicked as
she tried to force herself to swallow, her mouth suddenly, completely dry. “Go
on.”
    “Okay, there is an uncommon
fourth type of stroke – a mini-stroke – if you would. This is called a
Transient Ischaemic Attack, or TIA for short. This happens when the blood
supply to the brain is interrupted for a very brief time. The symptoms are very
similar to a full stroke, i.e. weakness on one side of the body, loss of sight
and slurred speech. This is temporary and usually passes within no more than
twenty-four hours.”
    Marianna’s face flushed with
hope. “So that’s good, right?”
    “As far as the stroke is
concerned, yes. These next twenty-four hours will be crucial. If Joseph starts
to recover during this time we can rule out a full stroke and start looking at
a TIA.”
    Marianna sensed the doctor had
more to say. “And?”
    “The more worrying thing is the
fact that Joseph has had at least two of these ‘incidents’, which suggests that
there may be something more malevolent at work here.”   
    “What?” she asked, the colour
draining from her face.
    “We can’t at this point rule
out that this condition is an indicator to something far more serious.”
    “Like what?”
    “Like heart disease – for one.”
      
    ***
     
    By the time Marianna entered the room, Jake was busy
explaining how Captain Jean Luc Picard had thwarted yet another attack on the
Starship Enterprise, thus saving his crew heroically. The old coach had seated
himself in a chair and was splitting his time between, watching Jake’s animated
face flip from emotion to emotion as he drew his tale to a conclusion, and the
dog-eared magazine, which was opened out across his lap.
    “Hey, you,” Marianna said,
flashing Joseph a smile.
    “Honey,” Joseph replied.
    Jake stopped abruptly, his
father’s almost incomprehensible reply sending an obvious beat of fear through
him. Marianna stepped forward to place her hand on Jake’s head. “Maybe you
should finish your tale later, when Pop’s feeling less tired?”
    “Okay Mom,” Jake agreed. The
young boy hopped off the side of the bed and ran the short distance to Profit.
“What’s that?” he asked, now interested in the magazine.
    “This?” Profit said. “This is
the August ninety-six edition of Ringside Magazine – the one with your father
on the cover. You remember, from when he stopped Jonnie Tucker inside of three
rounds.”
    Years ago, Joseph had already
been on the brink of international success. Admittedly, the title belt he’d
taken from Jonnie Tucker had been one of the less prestigious of them, awarded
by the IBO, International Boxing Organisation, which was a governing body based
outside of the US; thus bestowing its titleholder with only a small measure of
moderate success.
    Still, as a stepping-stone to
greater achievements, this had launched Joseph into the top ten ranked fighters
in the world, and had surely been the beginning of something special. Until,
that is, his untimely accident. Nothing too spectacular, either, just a slight
bump while pulling out of the driveway one morning as Joseph was heading
towards training. The resultant collision had jarred his neck severe enough for
him to miss three months of solid training, during which he’d missed a
mandatory defence of his title.
    By the time he’d made a full
recovery, his world ranking had slipped, along with any immediate chance of
another title fight. The next few years had proven difficult. A young street
fighter had exploded onto the scene, rising quickly to the top, unifying all
major belts, and totally dominating the heavyweight division. That left the
lesser belts to contend for. Most of the top ten fighters had competed for
these, pushing Joseph out of contention. Only Joseph’s grim determination had
offered him his second shot. Something that in Joseph’s mind, and heart, had
simply come too late. 
    Now, as Jake stood on tiptoes
in an attempt to peek over the magazine, the old