Page 134 of Fighting Spirit

“Yeah, hi.”

“How are you?” He clears his throat, no clue what he’s doing. We don’t do this, make small talk or pleasantries. When he calls me, he’s got a reason, and that reason is usually him telling me some way I’m not measuring up.

“What do you want?” I figure it’s better to cut straight to the chase. I don’t have time to fuck around with these false niceties.

“Um.” I can hear him taking deep breaths. “To apologize, I guess?”

“You guess?”

“No, I do. I want to apologize.”

“That sounded like it was painful for you.” I give a bitter chuckle.

“Your mother told me what you said.”

I figured she would have.

“And? I’m supposed to believe that was your come to Jesus moment?”

“Kind of?” He half laughs. “It was certainly a wake-up call.”

“It was a long time coming.”

“I bet.”

There’s silence for a long moment, but I refuse to be the one to break it. I’m not letting him off the hook this time. He eitherneeds to explain himself properly and actually offer an apology, or I’m done with him.

He finally continues, “I’ve always just wanted the best for you, but I can see now that I was wrong. I never wanted you to carry the same regrets I’ve been burdened with. I felt like I lost everything when I got injured, it was like my whole life vanished in a second, and to think that you were choosing to throw away the very thing that got stolen from me, well, it scared me.”

“You didn’t lose everything,” I bite out. “You have a great life. You have wife and a son who love you, you were just never able to see that.”

“I see it now.”

“I’m not throwing anything away. I’ve never wanted the things you do. I want to be a coach, I’m fuckin’ great at it and I’m chasing it with everything I’ve got. I got no plans to wake up ten years from now with regrets.”

“I think I’m starting to understand that, at least I’m trying to.”

“You’ve really hurt me, Dad, for a long time.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

“This isn’t gonna go away with one phone call. You gotta put in the work.”

“I know,” he says again. For the first time, I kind of believe him. He sounds so lost, like he’s just woken up from a dream.

“Well, okay then,” I nod, not sure how to respond. I feel like I’ve just run a marathon, my thoughts are going haywire as it sinks in that he’s finally admitted to being wrong. I’d thought I was just going to chew him out and hang up the phone, but hearing him apologize has kind of thrown me for a loop.

“You know,” he continues, “your mom might have given me hell but it was your girl that started it. She’s good for you. You should bring her round the house, maybe I can make a better second impression.”

Hearing him say that my mom finally stood up for me is almost enough to erase the piercing in my gut at the mention of Ruth. I shift in my seat, trying to lessen the tightening in my throat.

“She’s, uh, she’s not actually my girl anymore.”

“Oh,” he huffs, “well, that’s a real shame. She seemed nice.”

“She is, the best.”

“Was it not a good fit or did you fuck it up?”

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