Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Tegan
I war with myself about whether or not to go to the medic to see Alexandria.I don't actually want to see Alexandria.I want to see Roman.
I glance down the long expanse of hallway.There's a sign at the end: CLINIC, with an arrow.The hallway's empty, quiet.
I've played the moment over and over again in my head.I was watching Alexandria closer than anybody else.
Nothing happened.
She did not injure herself.
One minute she was up, her eyes on the ball,and the next minute, she was on the court,clutching her leg as if someone had taken a bat to it.
I stop at the turn, stare at the sign for the clinic. When I turn my head, look down the next hallway,Roman is at the end of it.He leans against a wall, rubbing the back of his neck. He hears me coming, the squeak of my tennis shoes.But he doesn't move.Just watches me as I approach.
“Hey,” I say.
He doesn't say anything.I glance at the shut door to the clinic. Through the window in the door, I can see Alexandria and her father.They're arguing, and I can just barely hear their muffled voicesbut can't make out any words.
“You probably shouldn't be here,” Roman says.
“Probably not,” I say, but I have no intention of leaving.He’s about to go through an ordeal,and I don't even know why,but I can't bring myself to let him go through it alone.
“How is she?” I ask.Which is an odd question, since I’m looking at her right now,and she ‘ standing on both of her legs,looking healthy as a horse.
“You know she's fine,”Roman says.
“Yeah.” That's all I can say in return.
“I can't figure out why she did it,” he finally says after a long moment. “X-rays.Examinations.Everything's fine. No sprains, no tears.Not even a bruise. Except maybe her bruised ego. She faked it.”
“Yes,” I say.
He finally turns to look at me, confusion written across his face. “All because she was afraid to lose to you?”
“Some people just can't take it,I guess.”
His eyes shift back and forth between mine. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“It's not supposed to mean anything.It's just that some people...I don't know.The idea of peaking, of being...being reduced to one single accomplishment…”I don't know what we're talking about anymore.If we're talking about him or Alexandria. He won Wimbledon at twenty-four.And then he crashed.Like an airplane with no pilot. “Fear of peaking.Fear of not being enough.Fear of reaching your what could be your greatest accomplishment so youngthat there's nothing else stretching out in front of you?It's too much for some people.”
I suspect it was too much for Roman.
“You don't know anything about it,” he says, and I can tell by the tone of his voice that he think I’ve taken it too far.
I move, stepping in between him and the door.“Maybe,” I say.“But maybe it's a tale as old as time. And maybe it's time to forgive yourself and move on.”
His jaw works.Clenching and unclenching. “Congratulations on your win, Tegan,” he spits at me. “You can go now.”
I don’t want to leave him, but I also don’t want to stay where I’m not wanted. So, I turn, and I leave him there.