The gym seems bigger after not having been inside for so long. The same smells of the chalk and sweat mix in the air. While they once comforted me, they now make me want to run.

Although most of the office doors are closed, the light radiating from Coach Evans’ office seeps into the hallway. Each step toward it brings me closer to the truth of my existence.

One, two, three knocks on the open door until I get the okay to enter. “Coach.”

“Sophie.” He stands up and points to the couch by the window. “Have a seat. I think we have a few things to discuss.”

Shuffling over to the sofa, we waste no time getting down to business. Though asked to sit, I stay standing while holding onto the arm of the sofa for support. “I’m leaving the team, which you probably already know. The office told me you had the official release papers here in your office. I’d like to sign them and be on my way.” Now that I’ve said the words, they carry so much more weight. I’m really giving it all up.

“Just like that? You’re quitting after all the years of hard work you dedicated to the sport. You’re so talented, Sophie. You have to know this is a mistake. One you will likely regret.”

“Gymnastics doesn’t make me happy anymore. Not since my eyes were opened to the truth. I have a lot more to dedicate my life to. Things that will give back to me and support me the way they’re supposed to without being asked.” It’s a roundabout dig at his lack of parenting, although unintentional.

“I understand your frustration. But you have the fire inside you, Sophie, to make something great out of this. You can be a winner; make the team stronger. There’s a place for you and I’d like you to stay.”

“You want me to stay? Or you want to win? Because the way I see it, you had twenty years to ask me to stay and you never did. From my point of view, this has everything to do with your success as a coach and nothing to do with me.” Now that I’ve spoken the words rattling around inside my mind, I’m feeling overwhelmed. I claim the edge of the couch cushion, not wanting to be any closer than necessary to him.

Coach stands up and inches closer. Kneeling down in front of me, he removes his glasses and pinches his thumb and middle finger in the corners of his eyes. Eyes that match my own. “Sophie, I made a lot of bad decisions in my life—I take credit for them all. But I did what your mother begged me to do. I had no choice.”

“Everyone has a choice.” Even me.

“That’s true, and hiding the fact that you were my daughter went against my better judgment, but it’s the way she wanted it. I had to do what she wanted.”

“That’s bullshit. You could have told her to go fuck herself. Who cares what she wanted. What about what I needed?”

“Sophie, I’m sorry I kept the truth from you when you came here. It was wrong of me. But I can’t do anything about it now any more than I could then. It was complicated. It’s always been that way with your Mother.”

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.