Winter sat on the wooden gym bleachers finishing lacing up her old Nike fencing shoes. She stood up ready and prepared in her classic white fencing jumpsuit. Ugly old thing. Why couldn’t fencing fashion ever become really big? Has anyone even tried to make it the slightest bit appealing, she thought. You always hear about how bone-chilling attractive some athletes are in their uniform. Never heard about a fencer.
She looked around her surroundings searching for her father. It was smaller than the average gym and the entire floor was encompassed with blue padded mats. Multiple other, mainly old white men, were sparring each other. No teenagers in site. Just the perfect environment for a 17-year-old mixed girl. She decided to stretch her muscles as she waited. Winter couldn’t understand why every Wednesday she actually believed their session would start on time.
After what felt like an eternity of waiting, her father finally entered the gym. Already wearing his outfit while carrying a gym bag, he fast-walked over. Her father towered over everyone in the gym, with massive back not helping his case. He strutted in with perfect posture and a clean shaven face, as always. Winter had never even seen a bit of scruff on her father’s face. Not even when her mother was sick.
“Sorry I’m late,” her father said using a stern voice.
“It’s fine,” Winter commented rolling her eyes. She gripped her foil and headed over to an open mat. Her father quickly dropped his bag and put on his epee mask and sprinted.
“I’m sorry,” he reiterated to her in an annoyed tone. “The office had a bit of an emergency, as they always do and, well physical activity had to wait.” Her father lifted and struck his “I’m ready” pose. Winter slid on her mask.
“Physical activity?” Not because you want to have an activity with your amazing daughter?
“Of course. Keeps the heart moving, great cardio. And you get to play with swords!” She shook her head in disappointment. He never could pick up on these clues. Physical activity she could kind of agree with, but any other father would surely state how great it was to still have an activity with their teenage daughter. Just like always, she reminded herself as she threw up her sword, ready for battle.
“You ready?” Her father leapt in a prance toward her with a stiff swing. She quickly raised up her sword to block. Her father fought with a very old school style form. Swift, fast, and calculated swings. It was the perfect foil to Winter’s creative, ever changing, and at times, quite sloppy technique. Yes, she could almost predict every swing her father was going to make, but that didn’t mean her old man wasn’t good. She spent years trying to best him for the first time.
She attacked, sending him back toward the mat. Her father defended with his usual stiffness. The awkward silence between them bore on her father until he finally spoke. “You’re awfully quiet.”
“Just really focused on the match Dad.” The way she spoke was a dead giveaway that she was not alright, but she was sure he wouldn’t guess that. She attacked even harder, giving even more of a hint that she was lying.
“Something on your mind then?”
“That obvious, huh?”
“C’mon, I know I’m not around as much as a father without a pristine job, but I do know my daughter.” Winter really did not want to talk about anything, especially since she was 75% sure he forgot what day it was. She could never understand how he forgot it! She struck back harder, letting her anger come out. “Any thought to completing the application to my alma mater?” he asked casually, seemingly disregarding her aggressive technique.
Winter was torn between knowing if her dad truly knew if she was really upset about the applications, or if he was oblivious and just trying to slam that down her throat. “As you know,” he continued, “the finance program is amazing. And the teachers have only gotten better since I’ve been there.”
How did he have this much breath to speak while they were fighting? Winter could barely get a word out if she tried as they continued to fight.
“Even though finance would be a great move in the right direction, I understand if it’s not your thing,” he acknowledged.
Wait, is he actually supporting me, Winter thought as she deflected.
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“I mean there are plenty of other great options too. I’ve heard their business department is quite acceptable,” he advised.
Nope, not supporting at all. Winter successfully maintained silence throughout the fight.
As soon as the silence became unbearable for her father, he chimed in wondering, “Still thinking about that art school then?”
“I guess so.”
“Well I hope you make the right decision. Sorry, just you know, art was always more of your mother’s thing.” His comment made Winter’s blood boil and she whipped her sword toward him, going for the head. Her father dashed back after nearly being hit.
“Winter!” he yelped. He slowly narrowed his sword down. “Bad form.”
Winter grunted and turned her back toward him. “I’m sorry, it’s just, I never really understood it,” he explained. Winter guessed she picked up her habit of lying from her father. She knew he wasn’t really sorry, and even if he was, it wouldn’t have mattered since his habits stayed the exact same.
“Oh, you’ve made that very clear,” Winter said thinking about all the times he actively tried to get her away from art school. Even back when her mother was around, he would always make passive aggressive remarks about how much of Winter’s day was spent drawing or painting. Her mother always tried to encourage her and go against pretty much anything her father said. Which made Winter question why she was even with him in the first place.
“It’s just, do you know how much an artist makes? Even a moderately successful one? It’s quite pathetic really. And all of that for some picture or some figurine that a machine can now 3D print!”
Winter bit her tongue, not wanting to have a fight in front of all these people. Her fists balled up in anger. If it weren’t for her gloves, it was highly likely that her fingernails would have drawn blood into her palms.
“I just want you to think about it,” he offered. “If you go to Uni for a proper degree, you’ll get an excellent starting salary. Probably be able to afford to move out and get away from me,” he joked trying to make amends. “Then in just a few years’ time you’ll be making enough money to put a down payment on a house!” Her father leapt his arms up in excitement, as if that would cause Winter to be on the same level as him.
Winter inched away with her head down, absolutely defeated. She had this conversation many times before, and even though she always knew where it was going to end, it never eased the pain of knowing deep down, he was probably right. Especially now since she could barely put paint to paper anymore.
Her father grabbed both of her shoulders sincerely, and pushed her back to him. “Winter, I’ve been there. Had my own dreams, it’s just very unlikely it will happen. It’s a part of growing up.”
“Mum didn’t think so,” Winter said, unable to look her father in the eyes. “She’s always wanted me to be whatever I wanted, and no matter what, she said she would support me. I don’t know about that anymore, now that everything I make is completely rubbish.”
Her father smiled slightly. “Still having trouble finding that muse?”
Winter looked up and saw that her father actually seemed to care. Was this some type of a white flag? She never could tell with him, but nodded at him regardless. “It’s getting a little harder every day. And every day, I think, that maybe this isn’t really for me. Maybe I should give up.” Winter bit her lip. She couldn’t believe she actually said it. She really should give up, but there was always the slightest bit of hope in the back of her mind. “I just know that if Mum was still here, she would still support me. Want me to at least try. And I’ve got to do that for her.”
Her father broke eye contact with her and his jaw tightened. “I know it hurts,” her father said. His eyes trailed back to hers, clearly pain within them, “But you have to move on.”
Winter threw her father’s hands off her. “Are you serious?” she shouted as her father generated a side eye. If she wasn’t as hostile, she may even be able to see that her father was clearly not okay with what he just said either. “Move on? Move on and act like nothing’s changed?”
“Everything’s changed!” her father roared. In that moment, the entire fencing gym went silent as everyone immediately turned to see Winter and her father staring tensely at each other. Winter’s father noticed and was clearly embarrassed. “I want you to be that happy girl again. But…I really want you to be smart about your future,” he said as the fencing gym returned to their business.
“That girl is long gone, Dad.” Winter took her sword and headed back to the bleachers. Her father followed quickly behind her.
“Oh, come on, we still have 15 minutes.” She ignored his plea and aggressively packed all of her equipment into her gym bag. “At least let me take you home.” Winter couldn’t believe what he just said. She turned back to him.
“I’m not going home. I’m going to go see Mum.”
“Winter, this is what I’m talking about. It’s not healthy to continue this charade of acting like she isn’t gone. Visiting her every day.”
“I’m not visiting her every day,” she spat back at him, “And I’m acting like she’s still here. You haven’t the slightest idea of why I’m going, do you? Do you realize how long it’s been? Any idea at all?”
“Of course, I do! I could never forget that.”
“Then how long has it been?” Her father contemplated the answer, not wanting to piss Winter off even more.
“I try not to count the days,” he said.
“Three years,” Winter answered for him. “Three years,” she repeated.
“I know that it’s been around three years.”
“No, three years exactly to this day. I wasn’t going to visit her to secretly hope she’ll just miraculously come back to life and everything will go back to normal. I was going there, because today is the anniversary of her death. Did you know that?” Winter stormed out of the gym already knowing the answer.