Love Game - Season 2012

by Gerard, M. B.

  At 10:03 a.m. the telephone in Anastasia’s hotel room rang. According to the tournament schedule the umpire would call the first match on Court 1. They had calculated that the umpire would be heading out to the nearby tournament site at 10:15.

  “Yes?” the umpire answered. She already sounded stressed. Good. Phase I had begun.

  “Anastasia,” Martina purred. “Listen, bonita, me and the girls need your help.”

  “I’m on my way to the tournament,” Anastasia informed her. Martina could hear her rummaging.

  “No, no,” the Argentine cried out. “It’s muy importante! You are our last hope.”

  “Asta mi-o mai lipsit,” Anastasia moaned. Martina didn’t speak Romanian, but she understood that her call was very inconvenient. She grinned widely.

  “What is it?” the umpire demanded to know.

  “Please go on the internet quickly,” Martina whispered. She waited while Anastasia started her laptop, muttering unhappily.

  “Don’t you have internet on your phone?”

  “The connection is bad.”

  Anastasia sighed but Martina could hear the little melody when the computer was started.

  “What are you looking for?”

  Martina gave Tom a little nod. It was time for Phase II.

  “I need you to find out the location of that lesbian bar we want to go to tonight,” she said with a smile.

  “What?” Anastasia couldn’t believe it.

  At this moment her hotel room door trembled with vigorous knocking. Another barrage of bangs followed. Anastasia ripped her door open.

  “Tom? What is going on? Is my cab waiting?” The umpire was out of breath and seemed confused.

  “Anastasia, there is an emergency at the tournament,” he croaked, not responding to her question. “We need you there now!”

  Anastasia hesitated for a moment. She looked at Tom, then at the phone she was still holding, then at her running laptop.

  “I need to go, Martina,” she stuttered, disconnecting the phone call.

  “Yes, you better hurry,” Tom pressed, rushing Anastasia out of the room.

  “My computer!” she yelled.

  “I’ll take care of that,” Tom assured her. “You better hurry. Ask for Candice. She will inform you about everything.”

  Anastasia nodded with wide open eyes, then turned around and hurried down the corridor. After the umpire was out of sight, Antonia and Martina peered around the corner and Tom gave them the thumbs up. He took the running laptop and they all retreated to Antonia and Martina’s room on the same floor.

  This was Phase III and no password was needed for it.

  Tom opened the search function on the laptop to look for the files.

  “DSX?” Antonia asked.

  “That’s the prefix my camera automatically assigns to every photo I take with it. If Anastasia has the pictures they should show up in no time,” Tom explained. He pushed the return button and they waited. A handful of pictures were listed. Tom opened the first. It showed Anastasia with an older woman in an apartment. The woman had her arm around Anastasia. In front of them was a birthday cake. The next picture was from the same occasion and so were the rest.

  “Probably her mother,” Martina said disappointedly.

  Antonia had an idea. “Perhaps she gave the files new names.”

  Next they combed through Anastasia’s picture folders, checking every single picture file the search had brought up – to no avail. There were no delicate pictures of the players, only private pictures and not even raunchy ones.

  “There’s nothing,” Tom declared. The girls nodded in defeat.

  They had been wrong about Anastasia. She wasn’t the anonymous deliverer of the pictures. Tom shut down the laptop, closed it and sighed.

  And there was still Phase IV. He had to explain to Anastasia why a fun photo shoot with the tournament ball kids and the umpires was an emergency.

  ***

  Carina let the ball bounce and fired a high ball back over the net. On the other side Yelena had trouble dealing with the moonball. She swung her racquet and sent a ball back even higher. Carina answered with another moonball. The spectators chuckled.

  Polly followed the rally on the screen and had to giggle. Sometimes the two players sent the ball back so high that it flew outside the camera frame. In the end Yelena won the rally with a powerful forehand down the line that ended the moonball exchange.

  Polly laughed out loud at the spectacle. But then she stopped herself and turned to the hospital bed. Her mother lay with her eyes closed, breathing steadily and looking small. A narrow tube led from a drip to a needle in her arm.

  It had been one week now since the family was informed that a matching donor had been found and that her mother would be taken to the Montréal hospital immediately. In the long hours since the surgery, Polly had become obsessed with observing the steady trickle of the drip and comparing its rhythm with the recurring beep of the heart rate monitor and her mother’s breathing. Curiously, the heart rate and the breathing were not synchronized most of the time, and the drip had a different rhythm altogether. The three beats created a minimalist and – by its arrhythmia – hypnotic symphony for Polly. As long as it kept going, everything was fine.

  She turned back to the tennis match and watched for another hour, then stood up and went down to the cafeteria to buy a coffee and a sandwich.

  Even though she was so close to the tournament only Morgana Doré had visited her so far. What a surprise it had been to see the French player peeking in. And how nice of Morgana to bring her some new Tennis Nurse novels.

  “I am a bit reluctant to hand out any more novels,” the French woman said while they were taking a stroll through the hospital garden. “I’ve learned so much about the background of these novels. It’s fascinating and scary.”

  “What do you mean?” Polly asked her.

  “My source, Larissa Perkins, knows everything about the connection between Tennis Nurse and some players,” Morgana revealed. “Tennis Nurse novels have the same effect as drugs. The reader gets hooked – and docile. It took me hours to pick out these two novels. They seem the least manipulative.”

  Polly took a look at the novels. Tennis Nurse and The Diamond Racquet and Tennis Nurse and The Grand Slam Chapstick. She had never heard of them before. Probably because they were not very popular and therefore not traded at the Tennis Nurse meetings. She thanked Morgana anyway and even began reading The Diamond Racquet right away – until the tennis started. She missed the commotion of the tournament. Not even a good Tennis Nurse novel could keep up with that.

  Polly bit in her sandwich and stepped into the elevator to go back to the fourth floor. When she opened the door to her mother’s room she had to smile. Her mother had woken up from her sleep.

  “You slept for a very long time,” she said to her mother. She didn’t close the door yet. “Do you want me to get you something to eat?”

  Her mother smiled and shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  Then she waved her daughter inside the room. Her movement was still fragile, albeit swift.

  “You have a visitor.”

  Polly straightened up. Had Morgana come back again? Perhaps she had changed her mind regarding the novels. She stepped inside the room and looked behind the door. Mint Rickenbacher was standing at the window.

  “Your mom said I could wait for you here,” she said shyly.

  “Yes, of course,” Polly’s mother said. “We had such a nice chat. Mint told me the story behind her unusual name.”

  Polly grinned. Her mother had a knack of teasing the worst secrets out of everybody. Even grumpy Mint was no exception. While she still wondered how Mint wound up in this hospital room after their discourteous meeting at the Wimbledon party, her mother had engaged the American in conversation about her last two tournaments in California. Reluctantly at first, but then more confidently Mint reported about her good runs in Stanford and Carlsbad with Polly and her mother asking ab
out the best points and crucial moments. Mints eyes glowed and once in a while she gave Polly a warm smile.

  Polly smiled back. Only a little though, with her mother watching them. Perhaps hospitals weren’t such bad places after all.

  ***

  “Lulu?” Gabriella couldn’t remember the last time that her sister had come over to her hotel room.

  “May I come in?”

  Gabriella hesitated. Then she opened the door wider and stepped back into the room.

  “How are you?” Luella asked.

  “Great,” she answered. “And you?”

  “Good.”

  An uncomfortable silence came between them. Gabriella positioned herself next to the window while Lu was still standing in the middle of the room. Gabriella didn’t offer her a chair. Why should she? Her sister always took a seat without being asked anyway.

  But this time she didn’t sit down on the chair or fling herself onto the bed.

  “Congratulations on your Grand Slam win,” Lulu said into the silence.

  “My second,” Gabriella stated. She could see that Lulu breathed in sharply. But then she steadied herself.

  “Yes, your second,” Lulu admitted to the younger twin’s surprise.

  “Want to sit down?” Gabriella pointed to the chair and Lulu nodded.

  “Did you enjoy the Olympics?” she asked.

  Luella knew that Gabriella had tumbled out of the competition in the second round. That was a moot question. She didn’t know however that Gabriella had been miserable throughout the Olympic tournament because of Sasha. No, she didn’t enjoy the Olympics.

  “Tennis isn’t everything,” she said coolly.

  “I know,” Luella nodded. “Rafael left me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Gabriella wasn’t. In fact, she wasn’t interested in the least in whether Lulu was with someone or not. It was such a relief not to be informed about her sister’s intimate life on a daily basis.

  “Do you have someone?” Lulu asked, setting off Gabriella’s alarm. This was dangerous territory. But on the other hand – did she still care what Luella thought? No, she didn’t. And there was no reason to pretend any longer that she was an underfucked bore.

  “I had,” she answered.

  Luella looked up. Gabriella could tell from the look on her face that she hadn’t expected this answer.

  “Did you break up?”

  Gabriella shrugged.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Luella asked.

  “No, thanks,” Gabriella snapped back. But then she realized something curious. This had to be the first time – probably in their whole lives – that Lulu asked about Gabriella’s personal life. She didn’t moan and lament about the break-up with Rafael. She wanted to talk about Gabriella. It was confusing, to say the least.

  “Not sure you would like it,” Gabriella cautiously added.

  “Do you even care these days what I like or do not like,” Lulu wondered.

  No, Gabriella didn’t. Or did she? She swallowed hard. Would it hurt if Lulu rejected her? Would it hurt if Lulu jumped up and ran out of the room?

  There was only one way to find out. She opened her mouth – and while she was still thinking of how to put it, the words had come out already.

  “I’m sleeping with women. I had a love affair with a fellow player.”

  Lulu looked up and Gabriella didn’t look away. She waited. Finally, her twin nodded, digesting the news.

  “With whom?”

  Another question, Gabriella noticed. She bit her lip. But why the hell not?

  “Sasha.”

  “What?” Lulu opened her mouth wide in surprise. “She stalked me!”

  “No, Lulu!” Now Gabriella was yelling, too. “No! Why do you always believe that it’s about you? It’s not about you!” That was so typical for Luella. Nothing had changed at all.

  “She never wanted you. She wanted me,” Gabriella continued, but her voice was breaking. Then she began sobbing. “She loved me.”

  “But – ,” Luella stood up from the chair, unsure what to make of all this new information and her crying sister. “But Sasha was about to get married.”

  “Business!” Gabriella croaked through the tears.

  “But – .” Luella seemed even more confused. She slowly came closer. Gabriella shot her an angry look. What was so hard to understand?

  “But all this couldn’t be just business,” Lulu wondered. “If it was business it went horribly wrong. Why arrange a big, fat Czech wedding at the fucking Olympics and then blow it off during the ceremony and crash a car? Also, Sasha said herself that Jaro cheated on her.”

  Gabriella looked up. “She said that?”

  Lulu nodded, relieved that she could get her sister’s attention. She stepped closer to Gabriella.

  “She said someone closest to her deceived her. I mean, really. She didn’t give his name, but there can only be one reason to cause such a huge scandal. She also said in her statement that this was the reason she would take a timeout. She will be back for the U.S. Open.”

  Someone closest. Gabriella let her head sink. She really had lost Sasha.

  “She didn’t mean Jaro. She was talking about me. I deceived her.”

  Luella frowned. “You? What did you do?”

  Gabriella took a moment to gather herself. Then she looked at her sister.

  “I pretended to be you.”

  Luella caught her breath. “Why?” she whispered.

  Gabriella sighed. “Because I wanted to be like you. I wanted to have what you have.”

  A long silence followed her confession. But this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was almost peaceful. After a while Luella lightly put her hand on Gabriella’s back.

  “But I have nothing,” she said. “No friends, no lover, no titles.”

  The sun made shadows of their silhouettes against the wall and Lulu’s hand was warm.

  “You won those two insignificant international tournaments,” Gabriella eventually corrected her sister with a smile.

  “Yeah, right,” Lulu said laconically. “Back at you.”

  Then they hugged, and it felt like there had never been anything wrong between them.

  ***

  Elise tossed and turned under the sheets, finally waking up from a dream. With closed eyes she listened to the rain outside. The weather forecast wasn’t good for Montréal and it could very well be that tomorrow would be a long day full of locker room idleness. Sleepily she reached out her hand to touch Amanda next to her – but the other side of the bed was empty and cold.

  “Amanda?” she whispered, while opening her eyes and waiting for them to get used to the darkness. A movement was visible next to the window.

  “Keep on sleeping, sweetheart,” Amanda said quietly. But Elise was awake now. What was Amanda doing there? She threw away the blanket, crawled out of bed and went over to Amanda.

  Caught in a million rain drops, the light of a yellow street lamp was running down the window pane. Elise kissed the Australian’s neck lightly, snuggled next to Amanda on the big lounge chair and put her arms around her.

  “It’s not your fault the woodpecker disappeared,” Elise said.

  “I know,” Amanda replied.

  “Then please come to bed again.” But Amanda shook her head. Over dinner they had discussed the mess Natsumi was in. Amanda had been furious with her Japanese friend as Natsumi refused to let them in on any details about the mara mystery. But the stubborn silence eventually began to worry the couple. Natsumi couldn’t keep secrets, meaning that this one had to be serious – a matter of life and death.

  After learning that the mara was lost, their Japanese friend had failed miserably at the Olympics. She had also tumbled out in the first round of the Montréal tournament and had left without talking to Amanda and Elise again.

  “I thought about selling the apartment in Florida,” the Australian finally mumbled. “It’s the worst timing to do so but I could gain an extra 120,000 or so. With the mone
y from the apartment and the money I saved after my U.S. Open I could help Natsumi with 670,000 bucks.”

  “Natsumi didn’t say anything. Perhaps she can find a solution herself,” Elise suggested, stroking Amanda’s hair. “Her family seems to have money.”

  “I doubt that Nats would tell her family if she was in trouble. She’d rather die a stupid harakiri death than ask anyone for help.”

  Amanda turned her body a little bit and grabbed Elise around the waist.

  “Proud Japanese,” she added while resting her head on Elise’s shoulder and watching the yellow rivers on the window. “That’s why we need to help her whether or not she asks for it.”

  Elise nodded and kissed Amanda’s forehead. “I’ve saved about 200,000 dollars,” she whispered into Amanda’s ear.

  “Well, 870,000 should be a good start. It’s about two-thirds of the money. We are three people and if Natsumi can rustle up the other third everything should be fine.”

  They both fell silent. How could an old wood phallus be so valuable? 1.3 million dollars. The sum was incredible.

  “We probably could have gotten a diamond-studded platinum pecker for half the sum,” Elise joked. The absurdity of this misery actually wasn’t funny but they needed a laugh badly. Amanda giggled at the thought of such a shiny toy.

  “Well, speaking of peckers,” she purred. “We might not be able to afford anything with diamonds, but I know a nice One Dollar shop with lots of fun stuff.”

  BARKING UP

  THE WRONG TREE

  New York City, United States

  In the silence of the hotel room – above the linen and the carpet that dampened every sound, left of the beige curtain and a little right of the chair – the sound that had escaped her throat hovered in the air, unable to decide where to go. Sasha opened her eyes and tried to find it. When she did she slowly closed her mouth.

  It was only seconds ago but she couldn’t remember whether she had woken up and then moaned because she still knew what she had been dreaming of – or whether she had sighed so loudly in her sleep that it had made her wake up.