Page 81 of The Pacifist
“How long have you been working out today?”
“A few hours.” Magni threw a nod to his physical therapist, who was packing up some equipment. “I want to go harder, but Mr. Careful over there says we need to be patient.”
I gave the man a grateful smile. “Patience isn’t my dad’s strongest skill. He likes to push himself.”
He nodded. “It will serve him well. He’s already ahead of schedule.”
“Of course he is.” My mom was sitting on the edge of the boxing ring with her legs swinging. She patted the spot next to her, gesturing for me to join her.
My smile stiffened a little and I fiddled with my hands as a nervous energy spread in my body. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you both about something important.”
The physical therapist took the hint. “It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the usual time.”
My dad raised his artificial hand to show he had heard the man, and walked over to get out a ball of water bubbles. “Are any of you thirsty?”
“I’m good,” I said even though my throat felt dry.
“What’s up?” My dad popped a few bubbles in his mouth and swallowed.
“It’s about the tournament.”
That made him turn and give me his full attention. “What about it?”
“I’ve… I’ve decided that… ehm… that…” It was as if an internal barrier stopped me from finishing that sentence. All my life I had focused on pleasing others and it was impossible to speak words that I knew would cause pain to my loved ones.
“Mila, are you okay?” My mom frowned and came to stand next to me.
“Maybe it’s better if we go somewhere to sit down,” I suggested.
“Vanilla Bean, what’s the matter?” My dad had a worried expression on his face.
Just say it!
“There’s no good way for me to say this.” My whole body was shaking and all instincts told me to change the subject or stay quiet.
“Say what?” My mother came over to place a hand on my shoulder. “What’s going on sweetie?”
Gathering my courage, I rushed out the words, “I can’t go through with the tournament.”
There it was, out like a wrecking ball aimed straight at their hearts. My body was tensed up with fear and I closed my eyes expecting a huge wave of anger to come back at me.
Instead I heard my mom chuckle.
Opening one eye, I stared at her. Maybe she hadn’t heard me.
“Mila, dear, it’s just nerves. Don’t worry. That’s normal.”
I cleared my throat. “No, Mom. I really don’t want to be in a tournament where someone might get hurt because of me, and I don’t want to marry a stranger either.”
My parents exchanged a long look.
“I’ve made up my mind,” I emphasized. “I’m not doing it.”
“You’re serious?” My mom’s light laughter was long gone.
“Yes, I’m serious.”
My dad’s face was already red from the workout, but he looked like he was about to explode. “How long have you known?”
