Chapter 12 #2
“I know.” He swallows. His throat sounds dry. “And that’s exactly why I want out.” His eyes get wide, like he just admitted something he hadn’t meant to admit. “I don’t mean I want to turn my back on my family, I just mean—”
I hold my hand up. “I know what you mean.”
Our eyes meet in the mirror and he flashes me a grateful smile before he looks away.
We’ve been on a quiet road for a while now, passing a house on either side every few acres or so, each house more impressive than the last. But now we’re turning off onto a driveway leading up to the biggest mansion I’ve ever seen in real life.
While the gravel crunches under the tires of Ben’s hatchback, I try to keep my jaw off the floor. Before we even reach the house, we stop at a three-car garage with parking spaces outside. The garage is the size of three apartments in Berlin. A small house in Cologne.
When we get out, Ben hands me my bag from the trunk and we walk up a slight hill with a water feature the size of an elephant. Only once we’ve traversed these obstacles do we find ourselves on the doorstep.
I stand behind Ben while he lets us into the house, suddenly nervous about meeting his parents.
While the foyer isn’t as instantly impressive as the outside would lead you to believe, we only have to round a corner for my jaw to be on the floor again.
Behind a set of stairs is the main part of the house.
All shiny wooden floors and high-beam ceilings lit with spotlights.
There’s a big wraparound couch and a huge TV, and beyond that, the kitchen.
Classic wooden cabinetry, a waterfall island, a second circular island, and a huge American-style fridge.
“Come on, let’s put our stuff away, Mom will have you in the guest room.”
I’m expecting a box room full of work-out equipment or something, like the guest room at my parents’ house, but no.
The guest room is a huge downstairs bedroom, with its own en-suite. It’s sparsely decorated. With a king-size bed sporting crisp, white sheets and an amazing view to the kidney-shaped pool outside. And beyond that… oh wow.
“Are those the courts?”
Ben is rubbing the back of his neck, looking embarrassed.
“Um, yeah. Mom knew we were coming here to practice, so they’ll definitely be well-maintained, not that they’re not usually.…” he trails off, his cheeks impossibly pink.
The sound of heels clacking on wood makes Ben bristle. He turns to the sound, painting a fake smile on his face.
“Benny!” a beautiful woman with dark blond hair says, holding her arms out to hug him.
“Hi, Mom.”
Benny?
The woman pulls away, studying me like I’m her next meal.
“You must be Benny’s friend from school.”
Ben squirms beside her.
“Hello ma’am, I’m Elias.” The ‘ma’am’ sounds weird in my accent, but I’ve heard people here say it, so when in Rome….
The woman laughs. “Darling, don’t call me that, you’ll make me feel old.”
I open my mouth to apologize, but she interrupts.
“Call me Tabitha.” She leans in closer, dropping her voice. “And if we become really close friends, you can call me Tabby.”
I blink, catching Ben’s cheeks flush with heat from the corner of my eye.
Tabitha throws her head back and laughs. I force myself to join in.
What the hell was that?
“You boys must be hungry,” Tabitha says now. “Let me get Anna to whip you something up.”
She talks while she leads us into the kitchen. All the while, I can feel the tennis courts at my back, calling me. All this wasted time that could be spent playing. Getting better. Becoming winners.
We sit at the kitchen table with plates of huge chicken sandwiches made by a chef while Tabitha studies us.
Ben shrinks in on himself. I didn’t notice the change at first. But now it’s obvious.
He’s not exactly a huge personality at college.
But this is something different entirely. It’s like he doesn’t want to be seen.
Tabitha asks me questions. Seeing as Ben is intent on fading into the background, I answer them.
When her curiosity towards me dries up, she turns her attention on Ben, but he quickly deflects.
“Elias won a Challenger tournament you know, Mom.”
How does he know that?
Tabitha’s eyes light up. “Wow, that is impressive. What are you doing playing college tennis?”
“I had an injury,” I say, realizing Ben might not know this yet. His head snaps up. “I had surgery on my wrist and it took a while to heal. I needed time to practice before I go back out on the pro tour.”
Tabitha sits back in her chair, eyes wide, obviously impressed. For some reason, the approval doesn’t feel as good as it usually does.
When she finally leaves us to go to lunch with some friends, picking up an expensive-looking purse (without any obvious brand names emblazoned on it), I pick our plates up and take them to the sink to wash them.
“Leave them. Anna will think Mom is criticizing her if we wash them ourselves.”
“Is Anna a chef or a cleaner?”
“She’s a maid.”
A maid. Of course Ben’s family have a maid. Why wouldn’t they?
“Do we have time to head to the courts now? I think we should get in—”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone about your injury?”
I shrug. “It’s healed now.”
Now his mother has left the room, he’s standing a little taller. His arms crossed over his chest as he studies me. I feel like I’m being called out for something, but I didn’t do anything wrong.
“You’re just biding your time here until you feel ready to go back out on the Challenger tour, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
I don’t lie. Why bother? So why does it feel shitty when Ben drops his head in disappointment.
“Oh.”
“What difference does it make? You’re graduating next year, right?”
He licks his lips before answering and something burns in the pit of my stomach.
“Yes.”
“So why does it matter?”
He drops his arms and sighs. “I don’t know, I just guess … it doesn’t.”
But it does. I can tell by the look on his face. He’s disappointed.
“Just tell me, I’d rather we get it all out there now than it follow us onto the court.”
Another sigh. “Because that’s all that matters, right? Winning?”
“Yes.”
His eyes widen a smidge, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Ben, we’re athletes.”
“Yes, but, there are other things….”
“Like what?”
“Like … like friendship and helping people and being part of a team and….” he trails off again as I look up at the chandelier above our heads.
“Just because my family are wealthy doesn’t mean I don’t want to help people.”
“Actually, I think it’s even cooler you’re thinking about helping people from low-income families. You couldn’t be further from that reality.”
He stiffens. I didn’t mean to offend him, but obviously I have.
“I didn’t mean that as an insult,” I say.
He softens a little. “Sorry,” he says, running a hand over his face.
“I guess I get a little defensive over these things. I’ve spent so long around people who have a similar life to mine, whenever I’m challenged by someone who didn’t, it makes me feel …
I don’t know. I guess I’m a little ashamed of all of this.
” He gestures around the room, his gaze finally landing on the chandelier.
I shrug. “It’s not like you don’t know it exists. That would be worse.”
He nods.
“And hey, right now, I’m glad your family are richer than Oprah.”
He snorts.
“How else would we play tennis while visiting them?”
He sidesteps that last comment and I’m glad. It only sounded intimate when it came out of my mouth. I am visiting a guy’s parents with him. I’m spending the night at another guy’s parents’ house. I’ve never done that before.
“My family are not richer than Oprah.”
“Okay.” I laugh, punching him in the arm, coming into contact with an impressive bicep. “Can we stop stressing about what might happen in the future? I’m here right now, and that’s all that matters.”
He chews on his lip again before answering with a tentative nod.