His words aren’t good enough. Standing up from the couch, I pick up the crystal award resting on his desk. An award he took the time to earn. An award he had the time to earn. Yet he had no time for his own daughter. After reading the boasting inscription, I chuck it at the wall. “Sophie!” He yells in surprise.
“Do you have any idea the fucking hell I’ve lived in all these years? A hell you claim to not have a say in. You could have fought for me. Instead, I was stuck with a Mother I had to be perfect to please and a father who refused to give two shits about me. He drank himself into a stupor every night of the week, his hookers and secretaries littering the living room or the back seat of his car. A real shining example of a parent, Coach. Anything you could have offered me would have been better—anything! But you didn’t once try to see me, speak to me, or come around. And I would have known because I was always holed up in my damn closet searching for an ounce of clarity about why I was even brought into this world in the first place. Everyone hated me—couldn’t stand to look at me.” Tears flow freely out of my eyes. For once I’m not worried about showing my weakness. “You ruined my life and you don’t even care! It’s all about what I can bring to the team—not what I can bring as your daughter. You only want me here because you want to win.”
His expression changes from surprise into shock. “Sophie, that’s not true.”
“You know, I applied here as a freshman because I wanted to work with the Coach I worshipped at the school of my dreams. Yet somehow, I was given a rejection letter—my own Father turned me away because life was easier for you as long as you did what she said. I get it now.”
He rests his elbow on his knee and rubs his fingertips back and forth over the creases in his forehead. He stares absentmindedly at the carpet, like it will provide him with all the answers he’s missing. Finally, he raises his head and the regret shines in his eyes—tears of his own battling with his pride. “I let you down, Sophie. I know I did. But I’ve always loved you and I’ve always cared how you were doing. Your Mother wouldn’t let me near you. I wasn’t even allowed to send mail once you were old enough to know how to read. She was too afraid you’d get your hands on something and start asking questions. She had more to lose than I did. I’ve never married nor had anyone to hide from. But Dean—he threatened the both of us.
Your mom would bring you to see me at the gym when you were a baby. It was the only way I could see you. Once a month, she risked him finding out so I could see your beautiful face. But he has a lot of power Sophie. And when he discovered what she was doing, he put a stop to it. It killed me to give up our visits, but I was worried about her safety because I knew he drank. She told me pushing to see you would only cause her more trouble. The day you turned one was the last day I held you in my arms. That night was the night the letters started. I couldn’t cry enough, yell enough, be pissed off enough, so I wrote you instead. It’s the only thing that made me feel close to you.”
“Why did you leave me with him if you knew what he was capable of?”
“Because I was scared. Scared you wouldn’t love me, or accept me. The same way you were scared I never loved you.”
“I don’t believe it. I don’t,” I sob. “You’re a grown ass man. One with a career that thrives on molding young minds. Yet you can’t figure out how to approach your own child?”
“I was scared of him too, I guess. He had the power to destroy my career—to expose my affair with your Mother. I couldn’t lose you and gymnastics, Sophie. I needed it to survive—to keep me sane. I failed at being your Father and I’ll never be able to get back the time we lost, or make up for it. But I’ll pay for it in another life, I’m sure of it.” He opens the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet. “These are yours.” He hands me a box.
“What is it?”
“Inside you’ll find the letters I wrote on your birthday each year since you were born. I couldn’t physically give them to you, but I celebrated the day you were born every year. I tried giving your mom money every month, but she said Dean would find it or ask questions. Sophie, I may have failed you, but I never forgot you. You’re always on my mind. I’m proud of the young woman you’ve become. You’re strong willed and filled with determination. You’re everything I’ve always wanted my little girl to be.”
With shaky fingers, I rifle through all twenty letters. Each in colored envelopes with my name scrolled across the front in messy cursive. I wipe away a few tears with the back of my hand. My damp fingers leave prints on the top envelope. “I can keep these?” I don’t know why I want to torture myself by reading them, but I know it’s something I have to do for closure. It’s the only way I’ll know if he’s telling the truth.
“They’ve always belonged to you.”
“Then I’d like to sign the papers and leave.”
Reluctantly, he opens a folder on his desk and rifles through a few papers, signing them by the designated marks before handing them over to me. “I wish you’d reconsider. We could do this together.”
My mind’s been made up. I’m ready to move on and be done with this chapter of my life. It’s time to focus on school and my future outside of a gym. It’s controlled me for too long.
I sign my name next to his and can’t help but notice the different last names. I should be Sophie Evans—but I was never given a choice. Never given the opportunity to love my father.
Laying the pen on the document, I turn around with my box and leave the office without so much as a goodbye.
Pushing through the doors leading outside as fast as I can, I gulp up the fresh air. I thought it would be a relief to get everything off my chest and out in the open. But now that I have, I realize it will take more than some long overdue words to put me back together.
Holding my box tightly, I’m trying to process his words yet still find it hard to believe he had no say when it came to me. Why would my mom keep him from me? Especially when Dean hated me so much. And why would she choose Dean over him?
The next bench I find, I sit and open the box.
The first letter looks the most worn—like it’s been read over and over. I’m not sure what I’ll find inside the envelopes, or whether it’s all for show—something to make himself feel better about his shitty decisions. But I read the first letter anyway.
My Beauty,
A year ago today was the greatest day of my life, the day you came into the world. Although I’m not with you, I carry you in my heart. No matter the distance between us, I’ll always be your guiding light—a protector from afar.
When you’re scared, think of me. When you’re sad, let me help you. And when you’re lost, I’ll help you find your way. I may never be your hero, precious, but you’ll always be daddy’s little girl. I love you to the moon and back.
Love, Daddy
I stuff the letter back into the delicate pink envelope, my favorite color. When I stand up, I notice others staring at me, but I don’t care. Let them look. Fumbling the box in my shaky hands, I almost drop it before regaining my composure. I have to get back to Kipton before he worries.
Daddy’s little girl. What does that even mean?
“Hi, Sophie.” I pass Drew in the hallway of my dorm, but I’m wound too tightly to acknowledge him with more than a small wave.
My door is open, Kipton resting on my bed and Cara watching TV. He sits up and rushes to me when he sees me.
“Sophie.”
I give him a pathetic half smile, the words from the letter rattling me.
“How was it?” He asks cautiously.
“I’m not sure. Would you both mind giving me some time alone? There are a few things I need to do.” They cautiously look back and forth between each other and then back at me. “I’m fine. But I’d like to be alone.”