“What?”
“Training, Valentina. Where’s your head at? Seriously.”
“Sorry, um—” I look around, trying to find a spot for the enormous gift I’m holding. “I brought this for you.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a gift, Pili.”
She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “I know that, Tini. But what is it?”
“Well, open it and see.”
Pilar can be such a smart-ass when she wants to be.
“I’ll open it later. Set it down, and let’s chat for a bit. Or do you have to go soon?”
The concern in her eyes melts away any of my criticisms of her. I’m the only human contact she’s allowed other than her husband, parents, and many servants. “I can stay for a bit,” I say and smile.
“Well, tell me about training.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m improving, but it’s slower than I’d hoped.”
“It’s only been four months. I’m sure it’ll take time.”
“Yeah. That’s what everyone keeps telling me.” I push a canapé around my plate with my fork.
¨You’re not hungry?”
“It’s not that. I, um. I just think it might be time to give up. I’m a little disappointed I haven’t accomplished much.”
Pilar laughs, and I glare at her icily.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “That is such bullshit.”
I press my lips together, waiting for her to elaborate, though it’s killing me not to pick a fight with her right now.
“Before you got sick, you won almost every fight. Your record was unreal. And we both know, if you hadn’t gotten sick, the next step was the UFC. Don’t kid yourself about that, Tini.”
“But I did get sick.”
“Yes. You did. And you beat it.”
“It sounds a lot like you are saying I almost accomplished something, which isn’t quite the same as accomplishing it, is it?”
Pilar raises an eyebrow in warning. “And you don’t think beating the shit out of cancer constitutes accomplishing something?”
She looks a bit angry, but I can’t bring myself to goad her further. I owe her too much. She was my first sponsor, when I first started fighting. She funded my training, bought my apartment, and paid a stipend so I could reach my dreams. Then I failed her when I couldn’t make them happen, despite my best efforts. The cherry on the cake was asking her for a ridiculous amount of money for my treatment. Even then, she didn’t bat an eye.
Didn’t she care that I had nothing to show for it? I would if I were in her shoes. Wouldn’t I? I had failed more than myself. I failed her and everything she has invested in me. Now I have no idea how I’m going to pay her back. I don’t think I could even if I were to live several lifetimes.
“What is it?” she asks.
“What?”
“You went into your nothing box.”
My ‘nothing box’ is what my sister calls it when I space off on her, which happens a lot since I got back.