Letters to The Fighter ✔

16. Concussion

Dear Peter,

Have I ever told you how much I love Fall? Even now, I'm sitting upon colors and colors of leaves, my back against an oak tree. Its rough bark feels oddly comfortable against my back.

I was conflicted about which memory I wanted to share with you this fine morning. That's the thing about telling a story: you have to be careful with every chapter. You have to help it grow. And for that, I need the perfect material.

Now, as I sit here in this park, I know exactly which part of our story to tell.

***
The park I stood in with Zoya was huge. There I was, thinking that I'd seen everything in New York City. The thing about that place was that there was always something to be discovered. It was full of surprises and adventure. Full of stories and tales. It was like every time I blinked, something would change. The city would not be the same as it had been a split second ago.

It was nearing Spring time, so the park wasn't barren. There were children playing in every corner, people walking their dogs, others riding bikes.

I was surprised when Charlie invited us here. He said that this was how you guys trained once a week: soccer. I was supposed to have my third interview with you today, so he insisted that we just meet you there and talk after the game. I was excited; I'd get to see what you were like outside of the arena.

Zoya and I sat on the bench in front of the soccer field. She huffed as she took her seat.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," she confessed, "I'm getting married in a week and I let you drag me to a park."

She hadn't slept in days, out of both excitement and stress.

"A day outside of the apartment won't hurt you," I playfully bumped my shoulder against hers, "just relax. You need a break, or else you'll fall asleep at the altar."

At that, she couldn't resist laughing. She swung her legs back and forth, kicking the pebbles underneath our feet.

"Can you believe it, Lucy? I'm getting married."

I looked ahead at the trees in front of us, their leaves dancing with the wind.

"I can't. You're still a child."

That elicited a grin from her and she shook her head at me.

"Don't act like you're not going down a certain road yourself," she winked, a smirk conquering her lips.

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Oh, please," she rolled her eyes, "Peter. He's all you talk about and think about. I can read your mind, remember?"

I shook my head, a little too rapidly.

"No, he's just a project."

It felt weird saying that. I knew that it wasn't true, but it was hard to admit it. I didn't have feelings for you.

Right?

"Sure," she nodded, "but how long before he falls for you?"

My heart fluttered just a bit.

"He won't fall for me, Zoya. Every word that comes out of my mouth annoys him."

It was true. You would get so irritated with me whenever we'd spend time together. It was funny and strangely enticing.

Zoya shot me an incredulous look.
"Do you hear yourself?"

I didn't have time to give her words much thought because I spotted two figures approaching from the corner of my eye.