by Fox Brison
“Could my night get any worse?” Playing third wheel, watching grown women murder my favourite songs… no, no. Oh wait, yes, apparently it could. Jules saw my dismay.
“Go, it’s okay,” she said, giving my arm a squeeze.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
She leaned over and whispered into my ear, “Yeah I’ll be fine. I think Dr Myers’ friend might like me, like me.” She smiled taking her drink from Dana. “She’s cute right?”
“Right.” I laughed. Julia thought she was being quiet, ‘thought’ being the operative word! Three glasses of wine and a severe case off deafness would do that to a person. “Dana, it was nice seeing you again but I have an early start tomorrow. Do me a favour and make sure this one,” I said, pointing at Jules, “gets a cab home.” I looked at Julia, “You know the rules.” And Julia did. If one of us ever left a night out early, the other would get a cab home, but would call and speak the whole way home. Unless of course we’d pulled. Then it was a quick text.
Neither had texted for the last six months.
I left Jules and Dana to it and walked the lonely streets of Cambridge. Okay, so the streets were still quite busy, but that didn’t stop me from feeling the sucking leech of loneliness draining the happiness from my blood.
Half an hour later I found myself back at the tennis centre. It was almost time for closing, but I persuaded Harry, the security guard, to let me hit a few balls.
Tennis.
My hate and my love.
My foe and my friend.
My destroyer and my redeemer?
Chapter 31
Emma
“So what happened after you…erm…?” I hunted for the right words. George didn’t mention drugs and ban in the same sentence so I didn’t think I should either.
“Fucked up?” Georgia asked with a sardonic grin.
“Not the phrase I would have used.” And it wasn’t.
“No? It’s the phrase my coach used.” Again pure bitterness when she mentioned her mother.
“Sometimes we make mistakes that have no effect whatsoever on our lives, and yet sometimes even a minor error of judgement can cause an earthquake.” I wasn’t just talking about Georgia’s situation; my drunken one night stand had changed my life completely. I would never call Lawrie a mistake because I loved him so much, but he definitely wasn’t planned.
“Yeah, well I guess mine registered 6.9 on the Richter scale.”
“So, can you tell me briefly what you did during your four year hiatus and what prompted the decision to resume your career?”
“The usual. Spent a few months brooding then travelled the world, then came home and moped, then moped some more for good measure, before searching for something that might fill the void.”
I bit my lip and quickly looked down into the folder, writing yet another note. So…the void of losing tennis, or her family? It would seem the two went hand in hand. I can’t separate it. Maybe she can’t either. I wonder if her family ever did?
Chapter 32
Georgia
“The first year of my suspension I drank enough to float the Titanic. I travelled Asia then South America, the nomadic life was a godsend. I was incommunicado for the most part, and was rarely recognised in the remote regions I visited. But after nearly eighteen months on the road I got sick of waking up in a different hut every few days, not knowing if I was in Peru or Ecuador. That’s when I knew it was time to head home.
By the time I returned to England it was not only the indigent villagers who were ignorant of me; I could walk down the high street and not get a second glance, only a small third one as some faint wisp of a memory ghosted through only the most ardent of tennis fans.
Fame was fickle, but notoriety was a lot harder mistress to escape, believe me.
Back in Cambridge, in the warmth of Julia’s home, I had time on my hands. Initially, I used that time to wallow, a little, it was hard not to think of the things I’d lost, especially when I saw Ana’s results on Sky Sports News. Actually, it was worse when the grass court season came around and it was on my doorstep.
I knew I needed a distraction or I’d either end up a raving alcoholic or in the nearest asylum. At first I considered going to university as a mature student. I chuckled at the description. No one had ever accused of being mature, yet now I had the wisdom of ages behind me. The admin at Queen’s College was encouraging; I’d kept up my academic studies when on the tour, much to the chagrin of my mother and the encouragement of my father, so I had the entry requirements needed.
But I wasn’t sure if it was what I truly wanted.
Wandering the narrow streets I happened upon an old haunt of mine and Julia’s, The Hole in the Wall café/bar.
Fate may have been fickle, but it appeared it was slapping me around the chops.
The business was for sale, and at a reasonable price so I made some enquiries and hey presto on 15th September, 2013 I held the keys tightly in my hand and excitement tightly in my heart. It took the last of the money I’d earned on tour, and Caroline helped me to refinance the house I owned on the coast, which allowed for the refurbishment.
The Birdcage.
“The Birdcage filled the void you talked of?” Emma interrupted me.
“I don’t know if it filled the void but I definitely wasn’t as aware it was there. It distracted me, until I received a letter from the ITF confirming the email they sent me a couple of months earlier.”
Julia came into the bar after work, and reaching into her voluminous handbag, she pulled out a white envelope. I immediately tensed when I saw the ITF symbol on the top left hand corner. “This came after you left this morning.” She held it out, and almost instinctively I put my hands behind my back afraid to touch it, afraid because of what it meant. “George? Aren’t you going to open it?” she asked.
“I already know what it says,” I replied, “I got an email a couple of months back.”
“A couple of months back!” Julia said exasperatedly. “Well?”
“It’s just confirmation of the exact date the ban is lifted.”
“Oh?” Julia said a mite sarcastically, “is that all? Feckin’ hell, George, I know you haven’t wanted to talk about it because, as you put it, the end was such a long way off and what was the point? Well you haven’t got that excuse now. It’s time.”
I admit I reacted a tad defensively. “Fuck, I know, Jules, believe you me I know, but I can’t talk about it here.”
“Well then let’s get out of here. Are you hungry?”
“Were you stalling?” Emma interrupted her tone indicating she knew the answer, but clearly wanted conformation.
“Oh you know me so well, Dr Myers. But so does Jules. She knew when to push and when to retreat, when to play devil’s advocate and when to simply agree no matter what. That night, she wouldn’t let me get away with it for long, we didn’t even eat in the restaurant we got a takeaway.”
“Gosh, I didn’t realise how hungry I was.” I smacked my lips together. “Good call, Jules.” I finished demolishing my chicken tikka masala and picked up the last onion bhaji. “Did I ever tell you about the time I was in Nagpur-”
“Stop!” Julia put her hand on top of mine. “Enough! Don’t get me wrong I love your Eat, Pray, Love anecdotes, but I think we have something more important to discuss. Now start using me as a sounding board before I think about water boarding as a means to get you to open up about that bloody letter.” Julia raised her brows, and waited eagerly. The room was dimly lit, the shadows playing across my face which I was certain did little to hide the sheer apprehension on my features. “Seriously, sweetie, you need to talk about it.” Her tone turned from confrontational to conciliatory and comforting. “I’m going to be honest with you. You changed the last few months you were on the tour and I was worried. Do you truly want to put yourself through all that again?”
I took a sip of water. “I’m not sure what I want right now,” I admitted hesitantly. “You’re right, I was a
mess towards the end. Maybe I believed in my own hype, and it certainly didn’t help the crowd I was running with were a bit wild.”
“Sex, drugs and tennis?” When I reluctantly nodded, Julia sighed. “I kinda guessed that. There were times when I phoned and you were either hyper or on a major downer. I should have flown out or at least said something.”
“I wouldn’t have listened… I wasn’t ready to listen. Alcohol was my drug of choice, followed closely by sex. I don’t know if I want to risk it all just to hit a ball from one end of a tennis court to the other.”
“You might not have reached a decision consciously yet, but I think the moment I picked you up at Heathrow you’d already made the subconscious decision to eventually go back.”
“What do you mean?” I picked at a loose thread and avoided eye contact.
“You came back for one, fitter and more alive than I’d seen you for years. And for another, for the past eighteen months you’ve been in training nearly every day. Going to the gym, yoga… you started coaching and even began hitting with the other pros at the tennis centre-”
“If you can call them that,” I interrupted with a derisive snort.
“You also gave up drinking and you’ve been far less active in the bedroom department.”
“Jesus, Jules!”
“What? You know what I mean. Christ, when we first moved in together, I thought I was going to have to soundproof your room and install a revolving door.” I looked appalled and she held up her hands, grinning. “Hey, no judgement, maybe a little envy, but no judgement. It was to be expected, you were just getting the Slavic temptress out of your system. But the Birdcage gave you a focus other than tennis. Once your mind was distracted, your subconscious took over. I don’t know, am I completely off the mark?”
“No, you’re pretty much spot on. The problem is the game has changed so much I don’t know if I’ll be able to reach the same heights as before. I don’t want to do this half arsed.”
“Only you can answer that, George. But you have to be completely truthful with yourself if no one else. If you’ve fallen out of love with the game, then that’s fair enough. But if you’re giving up your dream through fear?” Julia shook her head and shrugged. “Fear of failing? Fear of having to face a certain Russian bitch? Fear of having to watch your mother drooling over Laura? Then be ready to live a lifetime of regret. Speaking of which, has she been in touch?”
“Who? Ana?”
“No, your mother. She must know the ban is coming to an end.”
“You know, I think you missed your calling… life coach… motivational speaker… Oprah wannabe. Either that or you’ve been binge watching Dr Phil again,” I joked, a defensive mechanism I’d used for as long as I can remember.
“George, I’m serious. I’ve been your best friend for over twenty years and for the longest proportion of that time all I heard was how you were going to win Wimbledon or the US Open. All you wanted, all you dreamed about, was becoming a top tennis player. Has all that suddenly changed? It might have been easy to pretend for the last three and a half years, but now that the ban is lifted?” Julia couched the statement as a question.
“I do feel like I’ve unfinished business.” I looked into my glass. After my suspension from drug use was announced my relationship with my mother, never good to begin with, completely broke. Helen Maskel wasn’t interested in the whys or wherefores, she truly didn’t care. She was only worried about the ramifications it would have for her, for her life, for her standing as Fed Cup captain and as a super coach. Her initial solution was to have me committed; if it was proven I had a mental condition the drugs could be forgiven and there were doctors who would say anything for the right price. I went through a slew of shrinks, counsellors and other whack jobs before I said enough was enough and booked my flight to Bali.
However, Single White Female Laura Hargreaves was more than happy to pick up the pieces of my life. I believed Laura had done it to piss me off, but I actually didn’t give a toss, not even when the rumours of her and Anastasia began to surface.
“You know what? Fuck it. I’m going to go for it, it’s not as if I can humiliate myself more than I already have.” I halted my monologue and looked at Emma. “I didn’t know how wrong I was. Seemingly, there’s no stopping the depth of humiliation I can plummet to.” Emma squeezed my knee and motioned for me to continue.
“Like you said, Jules, at least this way I won’t have to wonder what if?”
“That you won’t. You’ll have that Maskel swagger back in no time.”
“With a little less arrogance. I’ve done a lot of growing up since I was that person. Now all I need is a coach.”
“der… der… deder derrr deder dum dum dum.” Julia started dancing around the room.
“Are you humming the tune to Rocky? And incredibly badly? Please stop, Jules. Please stop now.”
“Why? I can just see it, you running around in grey joggers after a scrawny little chicken… a wrinkled old man in the corner wiping your sweaty body…”
“Eww,”
“Eww… ok a lithe buxom blonde in the corner ready to massage your aching muscles…”
“Much better. Now that’s an image I can get on board with.” I winked and we both began singing, “It’s the eye of the tiger, it’s the thrill of the fight-” Julia started shadow boxing in what she thought was an athletic manner.
It wasn’t, she had the coordination of an octopus in a trawler net. However, I couldn’t help but get caught up in her joyful enthusiasm and we both ducked and dived around the sofa. It was exactly what I needed. The fight was about to begin in earnest and I was ready for it.
“But the euphoria didn’t last long. It was much tougher than I thought it would be, heck I couldn’t even get a coach at first. I was turned down by people who’d begged me for a chance when I was climbing the rankings,” I said thoughtfully.
“So that was when you resumed your career?” Emma asked.
“No, not straight away. I spent a few months second guessing my decision and running until I puked. Once David came on board things improved. I trained hard, played decent amateurs and hired good quality hitting partners. I had kept myself pretty fit so that helped the process. But…” I sighed. “I know what you’re thinking, drug addict has been. But it wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like? I only know what you tell me.”
“Not into Googling your clients?”
“Weeelllll…” Emma grinned, “Okay maybe a little!” She winked and suddenly the sun shone again for me.
“It really was a one off. I was in a… well let’s just say it wasn’t my best decision and move on.”
“But have you moved on? I still don’t understand why you took the risk, why did you take the drugs?” Emma was pushing now.
“As I said, it was a one off. I was at a small party someone brought out the coke and well, I’d been drinking.” I wanted to forget, Emma. I wanted to ease my mind for one blessed hour.
I wanted my life back.
My hand trembled and I felt the tightness in my chest growing. Not now, I willed the incipient panic attack away. I quickly stood and began pacing, counting each step in my head, my breathing becoming more controlled. Emma clearly hadn’t noticed and for that I was thankful. Although I wasn’t as grateful when she continued probing.
“And nothing precipitated this? Nothing significant happened that you can think of? It might be the root of your problem on court,” Emma suggested.
It didn’t take me long to regain my poise. “No, there was nothing.”
“There was nothing or you don’t want to talk about it?” she persisted.
“There was nothing and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Until you can be honest with yourself it’s going to be hard to find closure, George. I think you need closure to regain the freedom that’s necessary to find the form you’re after.”
“You think I’m lying to myself? Huh, that’s rich coming fro
m you.” Okay that was a bit defensive – and catty.
“This isn’t about me. I know it’s hard but if you genuinely want to advance in your treatment you have to be prepared to dig deep, be brave and just let go.”
And that didn’t sound trite. “So, now you think I’m a coward,” I was shaking because Emma had hit the nail on the head. “You’re right I am, I am a fucking coward and I hate myself because of it.” I broke down and Emma took me in her arms and comforted me, holding me tight until the tears subsided. “You want me to be truthful,” I sniffed, “to be honest, only the last time I did that my life fell apart. If only I’d kept my mouth shut.”
“What does that mean, George? Please help me to understand.”
I took a deep breath.
“It’s amazing how four words can change a person’s life. Will you marry me... I’ve got bad news… well my mother said four words in Melbourne which sent me into a tailspin that I don’t think I’ve recovered from even now.”
Chapter 33
Georgia
Australia, January 2011
“What do you call that?” A harsh voice broke through the inane chatter in the changing rooms and I, Georgia Maskel, the great hope of British women’s tennis, buried my head in my sweat soaked towel. “I asked you a question?” The towel was yanked aggressively from my hands and I stared up at my coach. I was exhausted. My right foot, where three blisters had exploded in the middle of the second set, was killing me, and even though I was desperate for the bathroom I didn’t have the energy to move.
“I call that a win.” Perspiration formed in the heat of the Melbourne sun had cooled on my skin, and now the air conditioned changing rooms raised goosebumps on top of goosebumps.
“A win? Is that what we’re calling it?”
“I beat her-”
“In three sets, the last one too close to call.”
Every muscle in my body ached. I desperately needed an ice bath, but all I could think about was having a quick shower and then having my blisters dressed; they were weeping almost as much as I would be by the time my mother had finished dissecting my performance. A pet frog in a biology class had a better chance of survival than I did. “Mum-”
