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"And I'll look back and regret how I ignored when they said run as fast as you can."
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・
"This fucking blows," I complain, mopping up the dirty gym floor trying my hardest not to throw up the lunch I had a couple of hours ago.
"Hey watch your language young lady and keep mopping, you missed a spot right there, it's filthy." My dad states, putting down the newspaper he had been reading.
"It's almost as if I didn't turn 18 a month ago."
He answers my remark with an eye roll as my brothers, Ryder and Logan laugh.
"Less laughing, more mopping boys!" My dad encourages them as they groan.
Since my brothers and I were little, our dad has always said that he loves us and our mom more than anything. But I beg to differ, I think his precious gym comes first and we all come in a not-so-close second. My dad, Michael Reed, grew up dirt-poor with an absent father. He had it rough for a while until he entered this gym and met some old guy named Mitch. From the stories my dad has told me, Mitch was a cool dude who loved wrestling. Him and my dad would watch wrestling tapes in this gym for hours on end. They had this unbreakable father-son bond.
Before meeting my father, Mitch had a nice life. He owned this gym, had a nice house, a loving wife, and an intelligent son. Then his wife got stabbed to death in an alley for her wallet, she didn't want to give it up. Mitch was rightfully heartbroken but tried to move forward for his son, Tim, who was in his senior year of high school. It was tough, his son had developed a dependency on hard drugs and alcohol to get through his grief. Fortunately, when Mitch confronted Tim about his addiction he agreed to go to rehab. Rehab helped, and Tim went on to not only graduate high school but also get into his dream school, UCLA. A couple months after Tim moved out for college Mitch got a call, Tim had overdosed and died.
For a while after that Mitch was alone, until my dad came along. Mitch always said that my dad saved his life, and my dad always says Mitch saved his.
Unfortunately for me, I never got the chance to meet Mitch, but my brother Ryder has. He says he doesn't remember much about Mitch, but he does remember the time he gave him a quarter to get some gum from the gumball machine. When Mitch died, my dad inherited his gym and he has taken amazing care of it ever since. This gym is my dad's baby, he loves this place.
