“Maybe because I’m used to being somebody here.”
Mia’s expression softened slightly.
“And my not caring made you feel like less?”
He nodded.
“That’s not my job to fix.”
“I know.”
Mia finished her wrap.
Brandon said:
“I’m sorry.”
This time she answered:
“Okay.”
He frowned.
“That’s it?”
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
“Forgiveness speech?”
“No.”
“Handshake?”
“Maybe.”
Mia looked at his hand.
“No.”
Brandon laughed despite himself.
“Fair.”
He turned to leave.
Mia said:
“Brandon.”
He looked back.
“Don’t apologize only because you found out I could hurt you.”
That stopped him.
She continued:
“Next person might not be able to.”
Brandon nodded slowly.
That was the real lesson.
A week later, a fourteen-year-old boy joined the gym.
Thin.
Nervous.
Brandon was assigned to help him.
The boy struggled with footwork.
Brandon’s old instinct appeared.
A joke.
A dismissive look.
Then he stopped.
“Again.”
The boy tried.
Wrong.
Brandon said:
“Slower.”
Again.
Better.
Frank watched from across the room.
Mia noticed.
Neither said anything.
That night, Frank asked Mia to stay.
She sighed.
“What now?”
“I want to show you something.”
They entered the storage room.
Frank pulled down an old wooden box.
Inside were VHS tapes.
Training notebooks.
One photograph.
Daniel and Frank.
Young.
Sweaty.
Laughing after training.
Mia stared.
She had never seen her father look like that.
Not posed.
Not father.
Twenty-something.
Alive.
Stupidly happy.
Frank handed her the photo.
“You can have it.”
Mia took it.
Then saw another object.
An old camcorder tape labeled:
DANIEL — CONTROL DRILLS — 2002.
Her hand stopped.
“Is he on this?”
“Yes.”
“Speaking?”
“Yes.”
Mia looked at Frank.
“You had footage of my father.”
“Yes.”
“For twenty years.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you send it to Mom?”
Frank looked ashamed.
“Because I thought she hated me.”
“She did.”
“I know.”
“That’s still not an answer.”
Frank closed his eyes.
“You’re right.”
He looked at the tape.
“I think I was afraid if I gave it away, there’d be nothing left connecting me to him.”
Mia’s expression hardened.
“So you kept part of our family because you were lonely.”
“Yes.”
Frank’s honesty hurt.
He handed her the tape.
“I’m sorry.”
Mia took it.
Then noticed more tapes.
“Are those Dad?”
“Some.”
“All of them.”
Frank began collecting them.
Mia stopped him.
“No.”
He looked confused.
“Make copies.”
“What?”