27. Gideon
GIDEON
Thursday morning, I was already doing footwork drills when Piper showed up to the courts. Olive skipped along beside her with a little paddle. What the hell was going on?
“I hope you don’t mind,” Piper called out as they got closer. “Judy had an early spa appointment, and it’s a professional development day at Olive’s school.”
“Of course not.” I only partially meant it. Piper and I needed to be serious about our drills. “Hey, Olive. Ready to play some pickleball?”
“Can I really play with you guys?” Her pigtails whipped wildly as she looked between me and her mom, bouncing up and down. With the excitement in her voice, my selfish thoughts about a kid ruining our practice evaporated.
“As long as you promise to go easy on us,” I said.
She giggled. “I’ll try, but I’m getting really good.” She held up a bright pink paddle that matched her shoes.
I took the paddle from her and swung it. “Nice.” I handed it back to her. “You’re lucky it isn’t my color.”
Piper mouthed, “Thank you.” Then she put her hand on Olive’s shoulder. “Why don’t you show him what Janie gave you.”
Olive dug into her mom’s bag and held up a badminton racket like it was the Olympic torch. “Janie said it was made for junior players. I’m trying out for my school’s badminton team Friday night.” She swung, mimicking what I had done with her little paddle. The mirroring motion warmed my heart.
“That’s a beautiful racket.” I tapped the strings. “And badminton tryouts? That’s a big deal.”
“I know!” She beamed. “I’ve been practicing my serves and everything. Mom says if I make the team, I can play in tournaments like you two.”
I glanced at Piper, who was watching her daughter with so much love it made my chest tight. This kid had no idea how lucky she was to have a mom like Piper. One who would do anything for her kid. Exactly the kind of woman I’d want as a mother to my daughter.
Oh fuck. Where had that thought come from?
“Well, let’s see what you’ve got,” I said.
“Want to warm up with us?”What followed was the most fun I’d had on a pickleball court since I started playing.
Olive was fearless, diving for balls she had no business reaching, calling out shots like a pro, and trash-talking better than half my teammates.
“Mom, you’re hitting them too hard,” she called out after Piper sent a ball sailing long. “Remember what we practiced, soft, soft, soft, then smash it!”
“Yes, Coach.” Piper laughed.
Her genuine smile and laugh, which hadn’t come out often in our serious practice sessions, was goddamn intoxicating.
“And Mr. Bailey, you need to move your feet more. You’re reaching for balls instead of getting in position. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle.”
I looked at Piper, eyebrows raised. “Is she coaching me now too?”
Piper looked like she was trying not to laugh. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”
“I just want to help!” Olive protested. “Janie says footwork is important.”
“Janie is right,” I said. “Thanks for the tip, Coach.”
We played for an hour, with Olive rotating between being our partner and our opponent. She was surprisingly good for a five-year-old, but more than that, she was fun. She celebrated every good shot; it didn’t matter if it was hers or Piper’s or mine.
“Mr. Bailey, this is so much fun!” she squealed as we took our next break. “We’re like a real team.”
The phrase landed a little heavier than the sweet little girl intended. “Olive, you can call me Gideon.”
“Can we play one more game, Gideon?” Olive asked. “Please?” Then she looked at me, her head tilted. “Wait. Are you our neighbor?”
“I sure am.” I wasn’t sure where this was going.
“Cool.” She didn’t take it any further, and I wondered what, if anything, Piper had told her about the man who lived next door. “Can we play again?”
“Olive, we should head home soon,” Piper said. “You need breakfast, and I have to get back to work.”
“But Mom—”
“Don’t ‘but Mom’ me.”
Olive groaned.
Piper’s mom voice was kind of hot.
“You’re going to do great at your tryouts.” I wanted to help Piper get to work on time, and Olive looked like she was stalling.
“I’m gonna make it,” Olive said. She looked between me and her mom. “Right?”
“Right.” Piper’s voice was quiet. “But sometimes things don’t go the way we plan, and that’s okay too.”
As we packed up our gear, Olive continued chattering about everything, but Piper had gone quiet.
“Olive, we missed a ball down there.” I pointed to the far end of the court. The little girl darted to get it. “She’s going to be fine,” I whispered.
“I know. She wants it so much. I remember what it felt like to want something that badly and not get it. I just don’t want her to be disappointed.”
“Disappointment is part of sports. Part of life.” I touched her arm, then pulled back, remembering our agreement. “But so is trying again.”
“Come on!” Olive called from the court exit. “I want to show Judy my new racket!”
“We’re coming,” Piper yelled, then, quieter, said to me, “Same time tomorrow?”
“You betcha,” I said. After the upcoming weekend, my mornings were never going to be the same again. As Piper and Olive walked away, I started to understand what I’d been missing. It wasn’t just about being part of a team.
It was about being part of a family.