CHAPTER 6 #3
Aurelio’s expression is strangely far away.
“He’s probably most famous for killing Medusa.
But I’ve always liked the story about Perseus slaying the sea beast. His future wife, Andromeda, was chained to a rock by her parents as a sacrifice to the beast. Perseus, a child of Zeus, beheaded the beast with a harpe. ”
“Not bad.” I shrug. “Though if I was Andromeda, I would fight tooth and nail not to be chained in the first place.”
Aurelio chuckles lowly. “Would you, Amy?” It’s harder to see his face out here in the relative darkness.
The warm glow from the restaurant and the stars above barely glance off his cheekbones, light his hair.
His hand bumps me, and I jump. I feel strange.
Out of control, in a way. My dates in the past never felt this way.
There’s been little flirtation, innuendo, swapping of hotel keys.
There’s been more listening, charged silence, my heartbeat too loud in my ear.
I try to drown it out. “What’s the strategy for tomorrow? Rollins is a harder opponent. American, like me. He’s been on the tour for over a decade. I’d recommend—”
Aurelio laughs at me. This time, it’s not a joyous sound. “How can there be more, Amy? We already talked about tennis for over an hour at dinner.”
The breeze picks up, raising goosebumps on my arms. I fold them tight to my chest. I turn to face him. “We are tennis players, Aurelio. At one of the biggest tennis tournaments of the year.”
At this angle, half of Aurelio’s face is in the shadows. “You’re different than I thought,” he admits, voice quiet. “Different than that night.”
It takes me a moment to understand what he’s saying. Now it’s my turn to laugh. It sounds sharp in the starry air. “The night where I lost my first Grand Slam final? The night where you found me crying in the garden?”
Aurelio shakes his head impatiently. “It wasn’t the crying, Amy. It was the openness, the vulnerability.” He seeks something in my face, but whatever it is, he doesn’t find it. He lowers his voice. “That’s what I’m missing tonight.”
I throw my arms out. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not really that pathetic girl. I’m a Bowman.”
“A Bowman?” Disgust leaks into Aurelio’s words. His accent thickens. “And what is that? A tennis player?”
I lean towards him, arms folded tightly again. “Obviously.”
Aurelio leans in, too. I can just see his eyelashes, the mole pressing into his jaw. “A tennis player? And what else?” I take a step back as though I’ve been struck. “What else do you enjoy, Amy? What else do you do? What else do you love?”
I don’t show him how much the words hurt. “Stop it, Aurelio.” The words are cold. I straighten my spine, grit my teeth. “Just stop.”
Aurelio deflates a little, sighing. “I’m sorry.
” He tries to reach for me, for my hands, but I don’t let him.
My face is a mask. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, expression open.
“But you have to know, I love tennis, too. When I played in the juniors, I was just like you. I thought all the greats lived on tennis. That was all they needed, so that was all I needed. But...” He runs an aggravated hand through his hair, trying to find the words.
“But tennis will never love you back. Never.”
He’s offered me his vulnerability, but I won’t show him mine. “So, you’re saying that I should give up on tennis and date you? Is that it?”
“No.” He shakes his head emphatically. “You’re the best in the world. You’re amazing out there. I’m just saying that tennis can’t be the only way you fulfill yourself.” He struggles with the words. “It can’t be the only thing... filling you up.”
It’s tempting. It always has been. On the days tennis isn’t working, on the days I’m losing, on the days Beck sits me down and criticizes everything I do, I consider just throwing it away.
Fading into anonymity. Finding a man to marry.
Working a steady job. Staying in one place.
Two different versions of Amy, two different futures.
There is no halfway, not in the way that Aurelio is describing.
How can I possibly keep track of a boyfriend, of a partner, while I’m traveling the globe and competing?
I don’t have the space. I won’t make room for him and push tennis out.
I won’t fall for someone and then fall down the rankings.
I won’t win at love and lose at tennis.
Aurelio reads the conclusion I reach on my face before I even put it into words. I shake my head at him. “What did you expect? That I wanted some sort of fairytale romance? That this is a good time for me to take a risk?”
A smile just lifts the corner of his mouth. A sad one. “I thought you’d fight more against the chains.”
I bristle at the accusation. “Don’t talk to me again,” I warn him. “You don’t know anything about me or my life.”
I turn around, stomping back up the beach to the restaurant. I furiously call an Uber, surprised my screen looks blurry. Tears burn in my eyes, angry and hurt. How dare Aurelio speak to me that way? How dare he judge me for my passion, for my focus?
But even as I shiver in front of the restaurant, waiting for my ride and blinking back tears, I glance over my shoulder. I expect him to come and apologize.
He never does.