We had a repeat separation, and for a good deal longer, at Christmas. We spent most of December trying to contrive something that would let me come visit Mitch and her family for the holiday, but we couldn’t come up with anything that would be less than extremely suspicious.
And the last thing I wanted was to give Dad or Mom any additional reason to research my roommate and doubles partner. I’d mentioned Michelle’s imaginary boyfriend, Jimmy, a couple of times in what I hoped were innocuous ways. But I was still scared every second.
We talked as often as we could, but it wasn’t the same as being in her arms, and I had the hardest time sleeping without her, including several more nightmares. But eventually it passed, and we were back at school. The season was starting, and I fell easily back into the role of student athlete.
Lidke wasn’t back this year. Not a surprise, as we all could tell how homesick she’d been. But there was a new girl on the team, and poor Mitch had to spend a few nights soothing my anxieties about being able to hang onto my spot. It lasted until I got on the court with this new freshman hotshot and took her apart. I’d been watching her for a week, diagnosing every weakness she had, and there were several, and when we played I was merciless in taking advantage of them, until she was literally screaming in frustration.
It was awesome. The coaches knew about her issues, of course, but some people won’t listen to anyone until they’re given a more practical demonstration of their shortcomings, which I was more than happy to provide.
As we approached our first match I got called into Coach Holiday’s office, and to be honest I was a little nervous. Mentally I was trying to resign myself to the fact I may not ever be anything more than an occasional doubles player and unpaid assistant coach.
“Hey, coach. You wanted to see me?”
“Yeah, have a seat. Just wanted to say thank you for working with Barbara.”
“No problem. She’s got a lot of talent.”
“It wasn’t just the playing, which was impressive by the way, it was you talking it all through with her after. Not everyone would do that with someone they’re competing for a spot on the roster with.”
My heart fell a little. “Whatever’s best for the team.”
“Yep. And what’s best for the team is you playing number six singles next weekend. Congratulations.”
I felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. “Seriously?”
“Cindy, I don’t play favorites. If you give us the best chance to win, then you play. And you do. Michelle is playing number five, and Carrie will be on the number three court for now. I’m keeping you and Michelle at number three doubles.”
“Um, thank you.”
“I told you, it’s not a favor. See you at practice.”
I managed to stumble out of the office, where Mitch was waiting for me at the locker room entrance, a huge smile on her face.
I could tell at first glance that Coach had already let her know, and she was beaming. Emotions roiled up through me, and I felt tears sting my eyes, stumbling forward until I was in her arms.
“So proud of you, baby. You deserve it.”
Heather walked past and patted me on the shoulder. “Congrats, Spencer.”
“Thanks.” I said it without separating from Mitch. Our relationship wasn’t a secret from anyone on the team. In fact, according to the rumor mill we weren’t the only couple on the team this year.
After practice Carrie, Mitch and I all went out to celebrate at the local Chinese buffet. I texted my brother to let him know my news. At least he would be happy for me.
Carl — Congratulations! When’s your first match?
Me — Next Saturday.
Carl — You going to tell Mom and Dad?
Me — They don’t care.
Carl – You should tell them anyway.
I let it drop, but Mitch was looking over my shoulder. “You really aren’t going to tell your Mom and Dad?”
I shook my head, my general good mood rapidly dissipating.
“Okay. Hey, Cindy, guess what?”
I looked back at her, where she was staring at me wide eyed and biting her lip like a kid in a candy store. “What?”
“You’re playing singles for The University of Georgia.” She popped her eyebrows at me, and I was only able to hold off a giggle for a second or two.
Later that night, though, as we floated on our post-coital cloud, Mitch asked me again about phoning my parents..
I sighed, “What do you think I should do?”
“I think you should make them make the decision. If they want to be shortsighted, misogynistic jerks then that’s on them. Don’t do it for them.”
“But, what if,” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Then it hurts, but you know you tried.” She wiped a tear from my cheek and kissed me behind my ear.
I nodded. I knew she was right, and they wouldn’t come or even be congratulatory. And of course, if they couldn’t get behind something like my athletic achievements, they were never going to accept my choice in a partner. Another tear slipped free, but the woman I loved pulled me close, and there was rest and peace in her arms.
***
“Yeah, so, um, I’ll leave tickets for you at the gate, if you want to come. Okay, call me. Love you both.” I pressed the disconnect icon on my phone, breathing heavily. I looked around as college life passed by the bench I was sitting on. There were always people moving. I just sat and watched them for a moment, hoping that their lives were less complicated than mine.
It was Monday, and we were starting our first week of practice leading to a match, and the energy level was exponentially higher. One of the assistant coaches pulled me aside and told me to come into the film room after practice. I just nodded and went back to hitting with Mitch.
I jogged up to the net after a few minutes, where Mitch joined me. “Film room after?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“That’s good, that means they have some tape on who you’ll be facing. You love tape.”
I grinned. “Yeah, I really do, don’t I?” I looked down for a second. “I called them.”
“Good. And?”
“Left a message on the house phone. Told them the news and that I could get them tickets if they wanted to come.”
“Okay, ball’s in their court. Let’s work on your backhand.”
We stayed busy the whole week. The coaches gave me six different matches involving my opponent to look at. And I did. It was probably a good thing that it wasn’t actual film, because I would have worn right through it. It kept me busy, and from wondering if I was ever going to hear back from Mom or Dad.
I finally did on Thursday, a message from Mom waiting for me after Design got out. It was a cursory congratulations and the statement that they couldn’t possibly get away this weekend. She didn’t give a reason, but her tone had made it clear she was surprised I’d even asked.
I played the message for Mitch once we were alone in our room, and she held me while I fought away tears. I don’t know why I was upset; I knew they wouldn’t come. I guess hope springs eternal. Once I’d settled down Mitch opened up my laptop and pulled up the tape of her Saturday opponent.
“Okay, so how do I beat this girl?”
The answer to that question was to show up and hit the ball hard. There was no way the person we were watching could absorb anything like the power Mitch could throw at her. But it was the perfect distraction, and we went through the tape, breaking down her groundstrokes and serve. By the time I fell asleep, with the warmth of my lover nestled behind me, I was dreaming about my big day on Saturday. Mitch would be there, and that was all that really mattered.
***
“You ready, Spencer?”
“Yeah.” I looked up at Danielle, our team captain. Nodding my head with what I hoped was a confident look.