It was diferent every time. But when its happened as many times as it has, you start to notice the little things. Those small, seemingly insignificant things that you only notice when they happen a lot. So as I sat across the table looking at my dad, I knew it was coming. I started noticing the signs a couple weeks ago. My dads training schedule picked up. Slowly at first of corse. Just an extra half hour , 45 minutes there. But soon he was living at the gym, perfecting his jaw breaking left hook, getting more power in his already powerful jab. He also started eating more eggs and steaks, building up his muscle.
So as I sat across the table from my dad, I was prepared for what was coming.
My dad is a MMA fighter. He hasn't made it pro or anything like that, but he loves it. I on the other hand, don't. I think it's pointless and dangerous and don't understand the fun in getting beaten up. Of course, my dads tried to explain the "thrill" and the "adrenilan rush" and things like that but I just don't get it . Which is why I get mad when he goes away for weeks at a time for some stupid fight. That is also percisely why he's always afriad to tell me he's leaving.
My dad spoiles me. I get just about everything I want, and then some. I'm a complete Daddy's Girl. my dad and I are close He's like my bestfriend. We tell eachother everything. He tells me he wants to give me everything, becasue he didn't have a good childhood or something like that. And hey, I'm not going to complain.
But his fights are the only thing he won't give up for me. Which pisses me off because its the one thing I feel passionite about. I don't realy care about anything else he does. Like, his book club is fine by me. Except for the reading part. But it's not really important to me. And those ladies are actually really nice. But, because i DO care about his fights he gets really scared to tell me. He makes a point of buttering me up before hand. He's always extra nice the week before, I always get a shopping spree, and we always go out to dinner and my favorite restraunt, even though he hates it. He hopes if he's nice enough, i won't get as upset. That doesn't ever happen thought. I can be scary when I'm angry. I tend ot be a little theatrical with everything I do. I'm a very dramatic person. And I kind of freak out when I'm angry. Crying, screaming, slamming doors, the whole deal. The good thing is I don't get angry very easily. But, the things I care about trigger a stronger reaction than others. So thats why my freak-outs are especially bad when my dad says he entered another fight. Of course I feel bad for hurting him, but I have to get my point across. Sometimes I can even make him drop out. My dad is a complete softie. He can't be mean to anyone, and if anyone is mad at him, it will drive him crazy. He'll do anything to get them to fogive him, even if he didn't do anything wrong.
My dad finally opened his mouth, and figiting uncomfortablly said, "Tiffy I entered a fight. Its in...its in... uhhh... its in Germany," very sheepishly. He flinched slightly when I opened my mouth. I think he expexted me to make a seen in the restraunt. Wouldn't have been the first time. He looked even more scared when I snapmped my jaw shut. This was new. He didn't know what to expect. I just sat there staring, my freshly glossed lips parted ina perfect O. I slowly, subconsiciouly raised my hand and grabbed my necklace. I pulled on the pendent, a single music note, and ran it across the chain. I listened to the sound of the metal pendent rubbing against the chain. I was deep in thought. I was in shock. He never went out of the country for his fights. Never. And now not only was he leaving the entire western hemisphere he was going to Germany. Which is why I guess, he expected me to freak out. Yell, scream, do something besides sit there staring at him. So when he didn't get the normal reaction he didn't know what to do. Honestly, I didnt either. My mom had gone to Germany on a buisness trip -she was a music teacher- and trying to please my dad, had bought tickets to see an MMA fight. She was killed that night. And my dad, the only person I could always count on, was going to the counrty my mom died in, and was going to fight. I was hurt. Angry. Betrayed. Scared. I felt lied to. My dad was the only person in the whole world who truly knew how badly my moms death had affected me. He was the only one who saw me cry and the only person who never left me. He had understood what it felt like. He knew I blamed the fights for killing her. And he was going to fight in the fight that stole her from me.
Becasue i knew what fight he meant. It was his lifelong dream to compete in Germanys anual MMA compition. He wanted to fight in the fight that stole my mother and his wife away. My mom, my tall, beautiful, strong, smart mom, was gone because of one fight gone wrong. And he was going to back, and compete in the compition. I couldnt believe it. But i needed to say something. so i opened my mouth, and spoke.
