Ring - 2. Chapter 2

As we get into the apartment, Alex heads straight for the living room and flops onto the couch, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. I take his swimming clothes and toss it into the washer, the sharp smell of chlorine still lingering in the air. Once the laundry’s going, I join him, sinking into the recliner across from him.

He flips through the channels aimlessly, landing on some random movie neither of us is interested in. I’m about to ask him if everything’s okay when he breaks the silence.

“Dad… can I ask you something?” His voice is quiet, uncertain.

“Of course,” I reply, leaning forward slightly. “You can ask me anything.”

He doesn’t look at me right away, keeping his eyes on the screen. “Why did you and Mom get divorced? I mean, I know you’re gay, but you could have lived together, right?”

We had briefly talked about this yesterday, but Alex still had questions. I wanted to be as honest as I could with him, even though it wasn’t an easy conversation.

I let out a slow breath, choosing my words carefully. “That’s a tough one,” I say. “Your mom and I cared about each other a lot, but sometimes… caring isn’t enough to make things work. There were things about myself I hadn’t figured out back then, and that made it hard for us to really be happy together.”

Alex glances at me, his brow furrowed. “You mean because you’re gay?”

I nod, keeping my expression open. “Yeah. That was part of it.”

He shifts in his seat, pulling his legs up onto the couch. “You said you knew for a long time. Then why did you get married?”

I pause, knowing this is the heart of his question. “I… had feelings I didn’t really understand,” I admit. “Back then, I didn’t know how to deal with them, so I buried them. I thought if I got married, if I built a life with your mom, then maybe those feelings would go away.”

“But they didn’t,” Alex says, his tone matter-of-fact.

“No,” I reply softly. “They didn’t. And pretending they weren’t there only made things harder for me—and for her. I didn’t handle it the way I should have. I made mistakes, and I hurt your mom because I wasn’t honest.”

Alex fiddles with the hem of his shirt, his eyes downcast. “But you still got married.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Because I thought it was the right thing to do. Back then, being gay wasn’t something I felt like I could accept about myself. I didn’t want it to be true, so I convinced myself it wasn’t. Your mom is an amazing person, and I did love her in a way—but not in the way she deserved to be loved. And that wasn’t fair to either of us. Mostly to her.”

Alex is quiet for a moment, his fingers still playing with the fabric of his shirt. “Was it hard to tell her?” he asks finally.

“The hardest thing I’ve ever done,” I admit. “But it was also the right thing to do. Your mom and I… we’ve had our ups and downs, but I hope she knows now that I didn’t mean to hurt her. And we both love you and your brother more than anything.”

“But she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Alex said, glancing at me carefully.

I sighed, leaning back into the couch. “No, she doesn’t. I mean, we talk—about you and Keith—but that’s really it. We don’t talk about anything else.”

Alex hesitated, fiddling with the edge of the pillow on his lap. “Do you think you’ll ever… you know, have a real conversation with her? Apologize?”

I paused, the question sitting heavily between us. “I don’t know, Alex,” I said finally, my voice measured. “Your mom and I… we’re both still working through things, even after all this time. We’ve both got stuff we need to sort out, separately. And maybe one day, we’ll be able to have that conversation. But for now, we’re just doing the best we can.”

Alex nodded slowly, his fingers fidgeting with the pillow on his lap. “I guess… I guess it’s good you’re trying, at least.”

“Yeah,” I said with a faint smile. “It’s not perfect, but I’m doing my best. And I hope it shows you something, Alex—that it’s okay to take your time figuring things out. Life’s complicated, and sometimes you have to work through things bit by bit. The important part is to keep trying and to be honest with yourself along the way.”

His expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Thanks, Dad. That, uh, makes sense.”

“Anytime,” I replied, leaning back in my chair. The silence that followed wasn’t heavy or awkward this time. It felt lighter, easier, like we’d bridged some of the distance between us—just a little more.

The rest of the evening passed quietly, the TV flickering in the background as Alex stretched out on the sofa. At some point, his head lolled to the side, his breathing deep and steady—he’d fallen asleep.

I watched him for a moment, the faint glow of the TV softening his features. It hit me how much he’d grown, how the little boy who used to crawl into my lap when he was tired was now nearly an adult. But in moments like this, I could still see glimpses of that kid—the way his hand curled slightly as he slept, the peaceful expression on his face.

Rather than wake him up, I quietly grabbed a pillow and blanket from the spare room, his room when he stayed with me. I slid the pillow under his head as gently as I could, careful not to disturb him. He shifted slightly but didn’t wake, and I draped the blanket over him, tucking it around his shoulders like I used to when he was younger.

I stood there for a moment, watching him. He looked so at peace, and I couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection and pride. Being his dad wasn’t always easy, but it was moments like this—small, quiet ones—that reminded me why it was all worth it.

With a quiet sigh, I turned off the TV and headed to bed, feeling a little lighter than I had in a long time.

As I lay in bed, I realize how much I’ve missed these moments with him. The laughs, the conversations, even the silences. Tomorrow, I’ll watch my son take his first steps into a new journey, and I’ll be right there to support him.

Sunday morning comes, and I can’t help but feel a little sad knowing we’ve only got a few hours before I drop Alex off at home. But this weekend was good. One of the best we’ve had in a long time.

The day starts off right. I woke up earlier than usual and started making breakfast—scrambled eggs, toast, and some bacon, the usual weekend fare. By the time Alex stirs, the smell of food has already filled the apartment.

I hear him groan as he stretches on the sofa where he fell asleep last night. A few moments later, he shuffles into the kitchen, his hair sticking up in every direction and his blanket still draped over his shoulders.

“Morning, champ,” I say as I set a plate on the table.

“Morning,” he mumbles, plopping into a chair and rubbing his eyes. He stifles a yawn before digging into his food, still half-asleep but grateful for the meal.

As he eats, I can see the sleep start to wear off. By the time he’s halfway through his plate, he’s wide awake—and unusually chatty.

“Dad, I can’t wait for today,” Alex says, his words coming faster now as he shovels another bite of eggs into his mouth. “First boxing lesson today. I’ve never done it before, but I’ve been watching some videos, and it looks so cool.”

I smile at his excitement. “That’s great, Alex. It takes practice, but once you get it, it’s fun.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding quickly. “I’ll learn the basics today.”

“That’s great,” I say, encouraging him. “It’s all about getting comfortable with it. Don’t worry if it feels weird at first—it’s not something you’ll nail in a day.”

Alex grins, clearly buzzing with energy. “I’m just excited to try it. I really want to start sparring.”

“Wow,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a big step. How do you feel about it?”

“Excited,” he says, practically bouncing in his seat. “And a little nervous, I guess, but mostly excited. I mean, I don’t think I’ll spar today, but just knowing it’s coming—it’s like I’ve got something to work toward, you know?”

“I get that,” I say with a nod. “I’m sure the trainer will know when you’re ready. Just make sure you listen to him, take your time, and don’t rush it. Sparring’s no joke, but you’ll do great.”

“Thanks, Dad,” he says, his smile widening.

Alex finishes his breakfast, clearing his plate with a contented sigh. He doesn’t seem to have a single care about last night’s conversation—it’s as if it’s completely evaporated from his mind. Typical teenager, I think to myself, living in the moment. But honestly? I don’t mind. Seeing him like this—energized and excited about something he loves—makes me happy.

Alex heads to the washroom to get ready for the day, and I can hear the shower running as I clean up the table, stacking the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. The rhythmic sound of water flowing fills the silence, and I find myself smiling, thinking about what today means for him.

By the time I finish, I hear the bathroom door open and the sound of his footsteps as he walks to the spare room to get dressed.

“Ready whenever you are, Dad,” Alex calls out, his voice carrying a hint of excitement. He grabs his bags, his movements quick but purposeful as he gets ready to head out.

I smile, my heart swelling with pride. Today is a big day for him, and I’m grateful to be here, sharing it with him.

“Let’s go, Alex,” I reply.

Seeing him happy is a relief, especially after all the times I’ve seen him sad, knowing that there’s nothing I can do to erase the past that led to this distance between us. But it feels like that distance is closing.

As we head down to the car, he’s practically bouncing with excitement, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his backpack over the other. He tells me he’s been watching videos online to prepare for his lesson, determined to be really good at it. I can’t help but smile. He reminds me so much of when he was little, brimming with enthusiasm whenever he tried something new.

The drive to the boxing club is mostly quiet, the only sound coming from the hum of the engine and the occasional tap of Alex’s fingers on the screen as he watches boxing videos. His focus is intense, his eyes glued to the screen as he watches the moves over and over. I can tell he’s eager—maybe even a little anxious. He wants to do his best today, to prove something, though I’m not entirely sure to who.

I glance over at him, his jaw set in concentration, and I can’t help but feel proud. He’s putting everything he’s got into this, and that kind of drive is something I admire. Still, I can see the nervous energy radiating off him.

We pull into the parking lot of the boxing club, and Alex grabs his gear, rushing inside ahead of me. When I get to the reception, they hand me some papers to sign. I thought Cammie had already taken care of everything, but I didn't mind. In fact, it feels good to put my name down as his father. It’s a small thing, but in that moment, it means a lot.

Alex puts on his shoes and waits eagerly for his trainer, his eyes glued to the other boxers in the gym, taking it all in.

A few minutes later, his trainer arrives.

“Hey, I’m Jonas. You must be Alex.” He gives Alex a fist bump.

“And you’re his father?” Jonas asks, turning to me.

“Yes, I’m his dad. James, nice to meet you.” I offer a handshake. “I’ll just hang back here and let you two do your thing. Don’t want to get in the way.”

“No worries at all, James,” Jonas says, his attention shifting to Alex. “So, Alex, today’s all about the basics. I’ll show you how to wrap your hands, get your gloves on, and then we’ll go over some simple moves. After that, we’ll try a few punches. Sound good?”

Alex’s face lights up, and I watch from the sidelines as Jonas walks him through gearing up. The two of them share an easy rapport, with Alex nodding enthusiastically at every instruction. I can’t help but smile as I take it all in, the energy in the room, the excitement on Alex’s face—it all reminds me of when he was a little kid, trying something new for the first time and soaking it all in.

“Okay, Alex,” Jonas says, checking to ensure his gloves are secured. “First rule—always protect your face. Hands up, elbows in. Let me see it.”

Alex fumbles a little, raising his hands, his form a little loose. Jonas steps forward, gently tapping Alex’s elbow to adjust it. “Not bad for a first try. Keep your hands closer to your face—here—and make sure your elbows don’t flare out. You want to stay tight, like this.” He demonstrates, holding his fists close to his face and tucking his elbows in.

Alex mimics the movement, this time getting closer to the right position.

“There you go,” Jonas says with a grin. “Now, let’s talk about your stance. You’re a righty, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alex replies, his voice brimming with focus.

“Good. Lead with your left foot, keep your weight balanced—about 60 percent on your back foot. Don’t lean forward too much, or you’ll lose power. Got it?”

Alex adjusts his footing, glancing down to check his position.

“Don’t look at your feet,” Jonas says quickly, laughing. “Trust your body. Keep your eyes forward, on your opponent—or in this case, me.”

Alex looks up, his hands still in position, and Jonas nods in approval.

“Nice. Now let’s talk about punches. We’re going to start with a jab—it’s quick, and it’s your setup punch. All you’re doing is snapping that lead hand straight out and pulling it right back. Don’t swing it like a baseball bat. It’s a quick pop, like this.” Jonas demonstrates, throwing a sharp jab at the air, his fist snapping back to his face almost instantly.

Alex watches intently before trying it himself. His jab is a little slow, his movement slightly awkward, but Jonas doesn’t criticize.

“Not bad,” Jonas says, stepping closer. “But keep your shoulder up when you punch. See this?” He taps Alex’s shoulder lightly. “This protects your chin while your glove is out. And don’t forget to snap it back. That’s where the power is—in the return.”

Alex tries again, this time with a little more speed and precision.

“There it is!” Jonas says, clapping his hands together. “Now you’re getting it. Let’s try a few more. Jab, reset. Jab, reset. Nice and easy.”

As Alex throws his jabs, his movements start to look more natural. Jonas nods approvingly, stepping around him to observe from different angles.

“Okay, let’s add some power now,” Jonas says, holding up a focus mitt. “Jab into this. Focus on speed first, then power. Don’t telegraph your punches—keep them sharp and unexpected. Ready?”

Alex nods, his face set with determination. He throws a jab, hitting the mitt with a satisfying pop.

“There you go!” Jonas says, grinning. “Now give me three in a row. One, two, three—quick!”

Alex fires off three quick jabs, the third one landing with a bit more force.

“That’s it!” Jonas exclaims. “You’ve got good speed, Alex. Keep working on that snap, and you’re going to be dangerous.”

From the sidelines, I can’t help but feel proud. Watching Alex so focused, so determined—it’s like seeing a whole new side of him. He’s not just trying something new; he’s throwing himself into it with everything he has.

After a few more minutes, Jonas steps back, lowering the mitts. “Great work today, Alex. You’ve got a solid foundation. Keep practicing those jabs, and next time, we’ll add in some combos. Think you’ll be up for it?”

“Definitely!” Alex replies, his face glowing with excitement.

“Excellent. I’ve got another session to get to, but if you have any questions, save them for when we meet again. Have a good one, Alex,” Jonas says as he pats him on his back.

Jonas walks towards me, then lets me know how he did. “James, Alex did pretty well today. He picks things up quickly. Next time we meet, we’ll probably do more of the same, so if you can, try to practice with him.”

“Hey, Jonas, yeah—thanks for the feedback. From where I was standing, it looked like he was really getting into it. I’ll make sure to spend some time with him.”

“Sounds great,” Jonas replies. “If you have any questions, bring them up at his next session and we’ll go over them. But I’ve got to run—another client waiting.”

With a final nod, Jonas turns and heads off toward his next client.

As Alex pulls off his gloves and wipes the sweat from his brow, he glances over at me. “What’d you think, Dad?”

I grin, clapping my hands together. “I think you crushed it. You looked great out there. Jonas was pretty impressed also.”

As we leave the gym, Alex is practically bouncing with energy, his gear slung over his shoulder and a triumphant grin plastered across his face. I hold the door open for him as we step into the afternoon air, and I can’t help but smile.

“Hungry?” I ask as we walk toward the car.

“Starving,” he says, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a towel. “I think I burned like a thousand calories in there.”

I laugh. “All right, let’s grab some lunch before I take you home. Your choice.”

Alex lights up. “Burgers?”

“Burgers it is,” I say, unlocking the car.

As I drive, I glance at Alex in the passenger seat. He’s scrolling through his phone, probably texting his friends or looking up boxing videos. But there’s a quiet satisfaction about him, a kind of confidence I haven’t seen in a long time.

The lesson had gone better than I could’ve imagined. Watching him focus, listening intently to Jonas’s instructions, and then throwing those jabs with growing precision—it was like seeing him come alive. It wasn’t just the boxing; it was the way he carried himself afterward, the way his face lit up when Jonas praised him.

For so long, I’d worried about Alex—about whether I was doing enough, whether I was present enough. Moments like this made me feel like maybe I was doing okay. Maybe, despite everything, he was going to be just fine.

We pull into the parking lot of the burger joint we went to the other day, and Alex practically jumps out of the car not taking any time to look around. Inside, he orders a double cheeseburger with extra fries and a milkshake, and I stick to my usual grilled chicken wrap and iced tea. We grab a booth by the window, and as we sit down with our food, Alex looks up at me with that same grin from earlier.

“Dad, did you see that last jab I threw? The one that made Jonas say, ‘That’s it’? That felt so good.”

“I saw it,” I say, smiling. “You looked great out there. It’s like you’ve been doing this for years.”

“Really?” he asks, his eyes lighting up.

“Really,” I say firmly. “You’ve got a natural talent, Alex. And more importantly, you’ve got the drive to put in the work. That’s what’ll take you far.”

He takes a bite of his burger, chewing thoughtfully. “I was nervous at first,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “Like, what if I messed up? But once I got started, it was just… fun. And Jonas is awesome. He makes it easy to learn.”

“Yeah, he’s a good trainer,” I say, watching him carefully. “But you’re the one who made it happen today. You should be proud of yourself.”

Alex shrugs, but I can tell he’s soaking it in. “Thanks, Dad.”

We eat in comfortable silence for a while, the kind that feels natural and unforced. Every so often, Alex glances at his phone.

It’s not just about boxing. It’s about seeing him find something that excites him, something he’s willing to work at. For so long, I’d worried about whether he’d find his path—whether I’d done enough to help him find it. But today, watching him in that gym, hearing the excitement in his voice now, I feel like we’re on the right track.

As we finish up and head back to the car, Alex looks at me, his expression thoughtful.

“Dad,” he says, “do you think I could be good at this? Like, really good?”

I pause, meeting his eyes. “I think you can be as good as you want to be, Alex. You’ve got the talent, and you’ve got the work ethic. If you stick with it, I don’t see why not.”

He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I think I want to stick with it.”

“Good,” I say as we climb into the car. “Because I think it’s just the beginning for you.”

As I drive him home, Alex chatters on about boxing techniques he wants to try, drills he wants to master, and even the kind of gloves he wants to buy once he gets into the ring. And as I listen, I realize just how far we’ve come. He’s not just talking about boxing—he’s sharing a piece of himself with me. And that, more than anything, feels like the real win.

As I drive him home, I glance over at Alex, still buzzing from the day. His gear bag sits at his feet, and there’s a contented smile on his face. I decided to break the comfortable silence.

“So,” I start, keeping my tone casual, “what did you think about this weekend?”

“Yeah, Dad. It was fun. Thanks for not, you know... making it weird.”

“Making it weird?” I ask, not sure what he means.

“Yeah, you know... about what we talked about.”

“Oh, yeah. No, of course not.” I pause, looking over at him. “Listen, you have an amazing week, okay? I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, two weeks, right?” He pauses, then adds, “Hey Dad, I know Keith doesn’t make it easy for you... but I’ll go in myself. We had a good weekend.”

With that, he hops out of the car, grabs his bags, and walks up the sidewalk. I watch him disappear inside, feeling a little lighter. Things aren’t perfect, but this weekend, for the first time in a while, I feel like we’re moving in the right direction.