“Was it when the video went viral?”
“Partly.”
“Was it when people started criticizing you?”
“Probably.”
“Or was it when you found out I used to fight?”
Marcus looked up.
He had known she might ask that question. He had not prepared an answer.
“Honestly?” he said.
“Honestly.”
“That made me look at you differently.”
Althea nodded.
“And that's what I want you to think about.”
He frowned.
“You mean I shouldn't have treated you differently because of your record?”
“I mean I shouldn't need a record for you to treat me like a person.”
Marcus lowered his eyes.
The sentence was not delivered angrily. It was not a speech. Althea did not raise her voice or step closer.
She simply stated something that should have been obvious.
“I understand,” he said.
“Do you?”
“I think I'm beginning to.”
“Then keep beginning.”
She handed the paper back.
Marcus accepted it.
He had imagined that she might tell him everything was fine. He had even imagined that she might smile and say she understood why he had behaved that way.
Instead, she had accepted his apology without pretending that the damage had disappeared.
He found that difficult.
But he also knew it was fair.
“Thank you for reading it,” he said.
“Have a good training session.”
He turned toward the door.
Then he stopped.
“One more thing.”
Althea looked up.
“Ben's training. I'd like to help him.”
“Why?”
“Because he's a good kid. And because I haven't been helping him the way I should.”
“That is a better reason.”
“I want to work with him on footwork.”
“Then ask him.”
Marcus nodded.
“I will.”
He left the room.
Althea returned to her inventory sheet.
She did not feel victorious.
She had not been waiting for Marcus to apologize. She had not needed his statement to understand her own worth.
But she recognized something in the way he had spoken.
For the first time, he had not tried to make his behavior sound smaller than it was.
It was not enough to prove he had changed.
It was enough to suggest that he might be willing to.
At noon, Marcus posted his statement.
The response was immediate.
Several sports accounts shared it. The Continental Strike League reposted the message. Some fans praised him for accepting responsibility.
Others were less convinced.
One comment read:
Convenient timing. The fight is coming up, and he needs the sponsors.
Another said:
An apology is easy. Treating people properly when nobody is watching is harder.
A third wrote:
Let's see whether he changes or whether this is just another promotional move.
Marcus read the comments once.
Then he put his phone away.
He was tired of trying to control what people thought of him.
He could not demand that they believe his words.
He could only decide what to do next.
He found Ben Keller near the mirrors.
The young fighter was stretching his legs and adjusting the brace he still wore occasionally when training became intense.
“Ben.”
Ben looked up.
“Hey.”
“You got a minute?”
“Sure.”
Marcus pointed toward the open mat.
“Let's work on your footwork.”
Ben looked surprised.
“Now?”
“If you're ready.”
“Okay.”
They stepped onto the mat.
Marcus stood opposite him.
“Show me what you've been practicing.”
Ben began moving.
He stepped diagonally, shifted his weight, and maintained enough distance between his feet to change direction.
His movement was still imperfect, but it was considerably better than it had been two weeks earlier.
Marcus watched carefully.
“Again.”
Ben repeated the sequence.
“Good. Now I'm going to move toward you. Don't chase me, and don't run straight back.”
Ben nodded.
Marcus advanced.
Ben shifted left.
Marcus changed direction.
Ben pivoted.
The young fighter nearly lost balance, but corrected himself before his feet crossed.
Marcus stopped.
“That's better.”
Ben exhaled.
“Thanks.”
“Again.”
They repeated the drill.
Marcus deliberately varied his pace. Sometimes he advanced quickly. Sometimes he paused. Sometimes he changed direction just before Ben expected him to.
He wanted Ben to learn to read movement rather than react to every small gesture.
After ten minutes, Ben's breathing became heavier.
Marcus lowered his hands.
“Take a minute.”
Ben looked surprised.
“I'm okay.”
“I know. Take a minute anyway.”
Ben sat on the edge of the mat.
Marcus sat beside him.
“I owe you an apology too.”
Ben turned.
“For what?”
“For the way I talked to you last week. I made it sound like you weren't trying hard enough. I didn't pay attention to what you were actually struggling with.”
Ben looked uncomfortable.
“You were just coaching.”
“No. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you.”
Ben studied him.
Marcus continued.
“You're still learning. That's what you're supposed to be doing here. I shouldn't make you feel like every mistake means you don't belong.”
Ben looked down at his hands.
“Sometimes I feel like I don't belong.”
Marcus turned toward him.
“Why?”
“Because everybody else seems to know what they're doing.”