Chapter 43 Ch. 27.2
"It's not about your race or your performance."
Zara blinked at him, then gave a mocking laugh. "Wow. I didn't realize it was possible for us to have conversations not related to that. Guess miracles really do happen. What are you now? God? Performing them?"
His jaw flexed. "That's not fair."
"Not fair?" she shot back, her voice rising. "What's not fair is you acting like my manager instead of my dad. You show up for my meets, sure, but you're never here. What the fuck am I even saying? You don't show up to a lot of my meets! The today qualifiers? You weren't there... That's... I don't know... Supposed to matter to anyone who cares. Noah was there, Ethan was there and I don't even know him that well. It's my first race for the season and... You know more about Ethan's recovery schedule than you know about me."
"That's not true—"
"Isn't it?" she cut in. "He's your star athlete, your big investment, your pride and joy. I'm just... what? A project you've been managing since Mom left? Something to keep you busy between training sessions?"
"Zara..."
She pushed her food away. "Maybe that's why Mom even left. Maybe she didn't want to spend the rest of her life feeling like she was competing for scraps of your attention. And maybe she didn't care to know about me because you made her feel so abandoned she decided I'd be better off not knowing her at all."
"Zara," her father said in a warning tone, swallowing hard.
"What?" She snapped at him. "Want to give me a sermon on respect?"
"I—I never wanted you to feel like that. You know I care about you."
Zara laughed bitterly, rolling her eyes. "Care? Really? That’s what you call care? Watching my races, knowing my times, making sure I’m on schedule, but never actually… being there? Ignoring me otherwise?"
"It’s not like that," he said quickly, almost pleading. "I do it because I love you. Because I want you to succeed."
"Zara… I am not ignoring you. I show up in ways that matter."
"In ways that matter to who?" she snapped. "You only want me to succeed where it matters to you."
"That’s not fair. You know that’s not true!" Her days yelled, his hands clenched into fists. "I’ve spent years trying to balance everything for you both!"
"Balance? For both? Is Ethan your child?" She laughed. "There’s nothing balanced about it. One— who by the fucking way, isn't your child, gets every damn thing: attention, coaching, care, while I—what? I’m supposed to be grateful for scraps? For the occasional burrito and pep talk?"
"I… I do my best, Zara!" He yeller, unable to control the anger anymore. "You think this is easy? Raising you, handling the team, guiding—"
"You don’t raise me!" she cut in, stepping towards him while her body was shaking. "You coach me. You manage me. Talk to my coach only about my performance and then scold me when I'm slipping. Then you stand there with your clipboard and stopwatch while Ethan gets hugs, praise, recovery plans, and everything else that matters to him! And I’m supposed to just… accept that because you call it ‘love’?"
He opened his mouth, then shut it. "I—"
"No! Don’t. I’ve been quiet for years. I’ve swallowed it down. Every time I tried to say something, you’d wave it off or tell me to focus on my performance. My races, my performance… That’s all you notice. Me? I’m just the kid who has to run fast enough to matter in your eyes."
"I… that’s not true!" His voice cracked, frustrated now. "I think about you all the time, Zara. I’m doing the best I can!"
She slammed her hand on the desk, rattling her fries. "Best you can? Best you can is not showing up to my first race. My fucking qualifying race! Best you can is treating me like a secondary project while Ethan gets all your attention!"
He froze, swallowing hard, his chair creaking. "Zara…"
"Don’t. Spare me your Zara-I-care speech." she spat at him. "If taking care of me is such a goddamn burden, then don’t do it anymore. Really. I’m fine without being managed every second of my life."
"That’s not fair."
"Oh, not fair?" she spat. "Not fair is being left in the middle of a house with someone who treats you like a project, someone who’s never really there unless you’re performing for him. Not fair is realizing that maybe you only love the version of me that wins, and the rest of me… the me that just exists? That me doesn’t matter."
"I love you!" he shouted, standing, his face flushed. "I’ve loved you every damn day!"
Zara shook her head, eyes blazing. "Love? That’s rich. Love is more than showing up for some— oh, hope you heard the emphasis on some, races and handing out food so I'm strong enough to run. Love is being here when I need you to be. Love is not making me feel invisible when you’re busy making a star athlete out of someone else."
"If you can’t do the two, then just don’t." She threw her hands up, frustration and hurt twisting her face. "Don’t pretend to be my dad. Don’t pretend to care. I’ll manage. Really. I don’t need this—don’t need you hovering like some overbearing coach pretending to be a parent. If it’s too much… if taking care of me is such a burden, then stop. Really."
"Yiu come here like you care and next thing, ‘oh your coach says she'll talk to the board to see if you could get a wildcard entry.’ when you ask if I'm fine, it's to see if I'm fine enough to run, not if I am okay. I'm so done with this."
"You love running. You always talk about the freedom, the wind through your hair and..." he trailed off, giving and exasperated sigh. "And it makes me happy you love running, because I love it too. It was our father-daughter bond. I'm sorry I didn't notice that changed for you."
Zara scoffed, and then broke out into laughter. "Fuck off."