Page 11 of I’m Already Gone

Lily

“Mom, is Dad coming?” Maddy asked, her voice small, as she slid onto the cold metal bench beside me.

I glanced down at her, forcing a tight smile. “I’m not sure, sweet pea.”

She shook her head, her gaze fixed on the starting blocks where Jake was preparing for his turn. “I wish he was here. I know Jake does, too,” she whispered.

I wrapped my arm around her slender shoulders, pulling her close. “I know. I wish he were here, too.” Her head dropped against my shoulder.

At least Ethan’s parents, my parents, and my sister, Sam, were here. But Maddy was right. Deep down, that little boy inside Jake still yearned for his father’s attention, for his father to be present in every aspect of his life, even in the smallest of moments.

Sam’s eyes met mine over Maddy’s head. She mouthed, “Is Ethan coming?”

I offered a helpless shrug. Pulling out my phone, I fired off a quick text to Ethan.

Are you on your way to Jake’s meet?

I waited, my thumb hovering, for the familiar three dots to appear. Nothing. Several minutes later, I sent another text.

Ethan, please answer me.

Still nothing.

With a heavy sigh, I tucked my phone back into my bag. My gaze lifted just in time to catch Jake scanning the stands. He flashed a broad, confident smile when our row erupted in cheers for him. But then his eyes continued their sweep, past Maddy, past Sam, past his grandparents, past me, until they landed on the empty seat on the end, right beside me. The smile vanished, replaced by a subtle clenching of his jaw, revealing his disappointment. I offered him a weak, reassuring smile, praying he could see the apology in my eyes, wishing I could somehow absorb the pain I knew he felt. But it wouldn’t change anything, especially not today. Jake was swimming in the breaststroke event, ranked number one on his team, a title he’d worked hard for. He had put in countless hours of training, perfecting his technique. It wasn’t only about making us proud, but his dedication to something he loved.

He was like Ethan in that way. Watching his father achieve so much through his own dedication inspired him to put in the effort needed to pursue his dream of possibly making it to the Olympics. Yet the absence of his father was a painful reminder that Ethan was letting him down by not being present and sharing this important moment with him.

At the referee’s sharp whistle, the swimmers leaned forward.

“Take your mark!” he bellowed, his voice echoing across the pool.

Jake stepped onto the block, adjusted his goggles, and stared down the lane. He bent his knees, his fingers gripping the front edge of the block.

A second whistle pierced the air.

Jake exploded like a human torpedo slicing into the water. His arms stretched out, carving through the liquid, then swept powerfully out and back several times before his head broke the surface for his first breath. His legs executed a powerful frog kick, heels flicking outward, propelling him forward with incredible force.

“Go, go, go, go!” Maddy chanted, clapping.

“You got this, Jake!” Sam and the grandparents’ voices boomed.

Jake settled into a powerful, almost hypnotic rhythm of pulling, breathing, kicking, and gliding.

Approaching the wall, he touched it with both hands, elbows bent, executing a flawless breaststroke turn. He planted his feet firmly on the wall, knees tucked, and pushed off in a tight, streamlined glide, already halfway down the return lap.

“Go, Jake!” I screamed, clapping wildly, a fierce surge of pride and love swelling in my chest.

“Oh, my God! He’s going to win first place!” Maddy shrieked.

On the very last stroke, he lunged forward, finishing with a two-hand touch.

“Yeah!” A collective roar erupted from our section. We all clapped and whistled, celebrating his victory.

He lifted his head, breathing hard, his chest heaving, and glanced at the scoreboard. A triumphant grin split his face as he threw his fist into the air. His teammates swarmed him, patting him on the back, lifting him in a boisterous celebration.

He turned to me, his eyes bright, and lifted his fist again in a silent salute. I blew him a kiss.

An unshakable sorrow clung to me at the thought of his father missing yet another important moment in Jake’s life. He should’ve been the one standing here beside me, glowing with pride and telling his son how incredible he is. But instead, he missed it. Again.