Around the time that I decided to move back to the United States, I was actually not doing so bad financially. I made quite a lot from my two jobs. I also still had plenty of money that I saved from my boxing years. I was easily able to pay my bills, buy food, buy clothes and other essentials for my daughters, and even have some money left for unimportant things (such as this really weird lamp that I still don't know why I bought). Unfortunately, those funds couldn't exactly help me out with my transition back to the US. Because last time I checked, the States don't accept rubles.
Thankfully, I wasn't entirely out of luck. Because I still had my savings in my US bank. I still had plenty of money saved up from summer jobs I worked in high school and some money that my parents would send me for birthdays/Christmas during my college years. I had around one thousand dollars in my US bank when I decided to move back. I would've had a lot more if I didn't consistently use the money to buy things online over the years. Look, I didn't think I would go back so soon, so I figured there was no other use for the money. I mean, what else can you do with American money when you're not living in America? Use it as decoration?
Anyway, the thousand dollars was enough to buy me a cheap two bedroom apartment for me and my daughters to live in. Not the worst apartment ever, but definitely not the best. The dishwasher refuses to work and it doesn't come with a washing machine for clothes. Thankfully, there's a laundromat only about seven minutes away driving. But that means I have to set aside time to do nothing but do laundry. The reason I'm never free on Sunday afternoons.
But oh well, the apartment is habitable at least. It has air conditioning, Wi-Fi, and cable, and that's good enough for me. At least it's not full of bugs, one thing I was really worried about at first. I still remember going apartment hunting with Anna years ago and finding at least two apartments that were filled with more roaches than a junkyard.
Rather than go back to Austin (the city I was born and raised in), I decided to move to Dallas to live close to my sister Hayley and her husband Jamie. Me and Hayley have always been really close. Because she's seven months pregnant with her first child right now, she hasn't really been working lately and it's given her time to watch over Elena and Yulia while I'm out working at that godawful coffee shop or at my...MMA battles.
Yeah, that crappy coffee place isn't my only source of income. But like I said, I haven't had any luck finding a job anywhere else. So, I've been making additional money competing in mixed martial arts battles. I first found out about the club about three weeks after I first moved to Dallas and immediately took up the offer. Of course nobody took me seriously at first due to my size, thinking I was just an overexcited teenager who saw the flyer and ran to the club not really knowing what I would be getting into. And yes, I know that mixed martial arts and boxing are different things. But I must remind you that my fists are not where I'm limited when it comes to my fighting skills. In the ten years that I've been in Russia, I've continued to practice my fighting form with not just my fists but also with my feet. And I really think my kicks have greatly improved since high school. Sure those moves may not help out much in boxing matches, but they'll definitely help out when two thugs try to steal your groceries.
I should also mention that being one of the greatest trainers in Russian boxing history is not really something that gets around to other countries. Especially the United States. I think only hardcore American boxing fans would know know who Atomnaya Bomba is. So these guys had no idea who I was and probably would have rolled on the floor laughing if I just right then there said that I was once a popular boxing coach in Russia. Thankfully, my ID (which I updated the week I moved to Dallas) was enough to prove that I was twenty-eight and they were willing to let me join the club. But all these tough guys had weird grins on their face, probably thinking: "this kid's not going to last five minutes." Well, the few fights that I've done so far haven't gone over four minutes. And I'm not the one who's on the ground after those four minutes.
Obviously, the guys in the club don't exactly have the same opinion about me anymore. I've only done about four fights so far and they already now feel sorry for all of my upcoming opponents (or "victims" as they call them). My next fight is actually in just a few days and one of the guys in the club is already planning on buying a get well card. Is it wrong to say that I can't help but feel really, really good when I hear things like this?
So basically, I go practice at the club about a couple of times a week and battle every Saturday night. I should mention that these battles are nothing big like the UFC, so I don't make more than five hundred or six hundred per fight. But that's a whole lot more than I make at the coffee shop and makes just enough to pay my rent, light, and Wi-Fi. I'm still planning on looking for more work eventually and so that way I can be rid of that dumb coffee shop altogether. That would just be awesome.
So while things haven't been all that great since I've returned to the US, it is tons better than the position I was in for those two years working at Billa and that car company. At least I'm able to make money off of something I somewhat enjoy doing. But I still wish I had my boxing life back.
Like I said before, my life doesn't really suck. It doesn't suck at all really. Not even when I was working those two jobs in Russia. At least there are two beautiful girls that I get to see everyday. Two beautiful girls that call me Papa.
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