Chapter 11 Rori
Rori
Iboard the airplane to find Julie and Dad sitting inside already, next to each other. It’s otherwise empty.
“I can’t believe you got us a private plane, Dad,” I say as I approach their seats.
“A direct result of your success, sweetheart. This client was so excited to hear I was Rori Reilly’s dad,” he chuckled. “I had to practically beg him to take some money for fuel and the pilot’s time.”
“This is perfect, Rori,” Julie agrees. “You can stretch out and we can talk over some of the strategies I’ve got in mind for the first match.”
“It’s perfect for us, but not for the environment,” I jump in. “Let’s just make sure the carbon credits are taken care of too, Dad.”
“Already done,” he reassures me, likely anticipating that I wasn’t going to let that topic skate by.
I sit down in the aisle seat on the opposite side of their row. I notice that Julie looks at my dad and then at me before glancing at her phone.
“I’m going to return a call really quick since it’ll be a few minutes before we’re cleared to take off,” she says, walking down several rows toward the back of the plane.
“So sweetheart,” Dad says, “How’re you feeling? You look a little tired.”
The last thing I’m going to do is admit why I’m tired to him.
“It was a rough sleep last night,” I say to deflect his comment. “But I’ll settle in once we get to Texas. I’m good at switching time zones for tournaments. It’s coming back to Florida where my body crashes.”
“I know. All that adrenaline,” he says, nodding his head.
A moment passes while we’re both quiet. I can hear Julie mumbling on her phone call amid the hum of the plane’s air conditioning system.
“I do want to talk to you about something, Rori,” Dad says as he turns his body to face me fully.
“You’ve grown so much in the last two years, starting with the maturity and willpower it took to come back from your injury.
And now you’re going full speed ahead on the tour, as well as with your off-court activities and appearances.
You bought your house. You turn twenty-one in October.
My little girl’s an adult. I can hardly believe it. ”
He sighs at that thought and then continues. “You have such amazing things ahead, and I want to let you make decisions without your dad hanging over you. It’s made me rethink where I am in my own life. My priorities.”
“Dad,” I interject. “You’ve sacrificed so much juggling your career and being my father, supporting my tennis. You can never be around too much, but I also want you to be happy and fulfilled for yourself.”
While I’m surprised Dad is having this conversation at this exact moment, it’s long overdue. He really has given up his own life for mine for far too long.
“You make me happy. You make me fulfilled,” he says. “Having said that, I’ve made some decisions. I’m going to sell the house, sweetheart. With four bedrooms, it’s far too big for just me. I know we have lots of memories there, so I want to make sure you’re okay with it.”
Oh wow. This is the house we moved into a couple of years after Mom passed. We settled in right as I started to get more serious with my tennis. So much happened over the last ten years while that house was our home base.
Still, at 2800 square feet, it’s way too large for my dad. I get that.
“Oh Dad, it’s sad to think about, and I maybe need a minute to process,” I say after another few seconds pass. “But I understand wanting to live how and where you want.”
I see his shoulders get less tense at my response. “Thank you,” Dad says, breathing a sigh of relief. “Julie mentioned that there are lots of condos available in her community. I think I’m going to check it out.”
“Okay,” I say, my mind still digesting the news.
And he’s not done. “The other thing, Rori,” he hesitates as if finding his words. “The other thing is how would you feel if I don’t come on the tour as much? Just come for the Slams?”
This is an easier topic for me. I smile and put my hand on his arm. “Dad, totally, that’s okay. I have Julie and all my friends on the circuit. I’m good.”
He nods, relaxing his posture. “I thought you might be okay with that part.”
“You’re always welcome at any event, to stay with me wherever I am, Dad. Words cannot express how grateful I am for you,” I say as I stand up and reach over the aisle to hug him. “Love you.”
He hugs me back. “Love you, Rori,” he says.
Julie walks back toward us as we separate from the hug.
“Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” she says.
The Austin tournament goes well, and I win three matches before losing in the finals. I absolutely love this town, so Maggie joins me for a night out before we have to fly to Mexico for the next tour spot.
“Yeeehaw, I do love all the cowboys,” Maggie says, giggling as we walk into a bar, taking in the scene.
We order only seltzer water once we reach the bartender, but we’re giddy to be out for a night on the town like normal twenty-somethings. Maggie’s old enough to drink, just being good.
“You’re as likely to bump into musicians here in Austin,” I tell her, laughing.
“I prefer muscles to talent,” Maggie jokes, and I slap her on her arm.
“If you think being a cowboy doesn’t require talent, we probably need to get you on a ranch,” says the guy sitting on a stool next to us.
We are both unable to contain our giggles and run away to a table.
All of a sudden my phone beeps and I look at the notification. Seeing it’s from “NEW YEARS,” I shield my phone so Maggie can’t read the message.
NEW YEARS: Awesome job on making the finals. Bummer about the loss today, but from what you were saying, the points will help your ranking?
This was his third message this week, all very “friend-zone.” I’ve made an effort not to wait too long to message him back, so that he doesn’t think I’m ignoring him again.
RORI: Aw shucks, thanks.
He quickly responds by putting a “HA HA” reaction on my message.
NEW YEARS: Glad you’re staying humble.
RORI: Just adopting the cowboy spirit here in Texas.
He responds by sending a GIF of a cowboy dipping his hat. I put a laughing reaction on it and turn my phone over.
Maggie’s looking at me. “Who you talking to over there, mysterious one?”
I try to look nonchalant. “No one. Just a friend.”
“Uh huh,” she says, looking skeptical. She blessedly doesn’t push me. “I’d like to find a friend tonight,” she replies, peering around the room.
An hour later we walk back to the hotel, no “friend” for Maggie and sober from our seltzer. But our spirits are high from being able to act our age, if only for one night before the tour calls again.
When I get back from the Mexico tournament the following week, I have a different kind of event to look forward to.
For the first year ever, I’m a spokesperson for a charity event supporting our local breast cancer organization, Pink Sisters. The event starts with a “Fun Run,” followed by a three-hour street festival, with all the entry fees going to the organization.
The spokesperson role is something that I watched Dad take on many times to support my mother’s memory. And now it’s one more thing that he’s willing to pass on to me.
This event’s also special because my mom’s sister, my Aunt Mandy, is coming.
As my mom’s only living blood relative, she’s a big source of the stories I collect about her.
I soak them up every time she visits, which is increasingly less now that I’m older.
The Florida heat bugs her, but it’s not too bad in March.
Grief is tricky when you lose a parent so young. My personal memories are fuzzy, with my child filter running over all of them. So Dad and Aunt Mandy have layered on their own to make me feel closer to knowing my mom as an adult.
Aunt Mandy comes in the night before the fundraiser, taking an uber to my place. It feels amazing to be able to host her in my own house this year. Another adulting milestone.
She’s one of those people that have a natural joy for life. She’s bouncing with energy as she comes in, giving me a big hug.
“My Rori, my beautiful Rori,” she says, giving me kisses on my cheek as we embrace.
“I’m so excited you’re here,” I say back. I break our hug and invite her further in with a wave of my hand.
“Come, come, let’s drop your bag in the guest room and you can get the grand tour.”
I show her around before we settle in for dinner. The “grand tour” is quick. I bought this small cottage near Pinnacle because I love the bright energy of the rooms, which are full of windows. I don’t need much space for just myself.
After we’re done getting her situated, I start serving dinner. Mind you, dinner’s a pre-made meal I purchased from a local meal delivery service, the extent of my skill set for real cooking.
“So Rori, what a year so far,” Aunt Mandy says after she’s taken a few bites. “I see you on TV all the time. Quite a proud auntie.”
As she’s one of the few whose good opinion matters to me, her acknowledgement of my accomplishments means a lot.
“Thanks, Aunt Mandy,” I say with a grin.
“I want to make sure that you’re taking care of yourself, though. Are you happy? How’s everything outside of tennis?” she asks.
My mind flashes to Landon—a decidedly “outside of tennis” activity—but I push thoughts of him out of my head.
“All’s well, don’t worry. I’ve got so many friends here from Pinnacle and the tour. Plus Dad. The fame thing is a little weird still, but I do have an awesome team that takes care of me.”
She listens and puts on a light smile, but I can tell there’s something else on her mind. “What about boyfriends? A gorgeous twenty-year-old like you must have requests for dates left and right.”
I pause, thinking about how I want to answer.
“Well, tennis makes it hard to have a boyfriend,” I explain. “It’s so demanding, and I don’t need a man in my life to make me fulfilled.”
She looks at me expectantly, like I should have more to say.
“Tennis is my boyfriend, if anything,” I say with a chuckle.
I can tell she doesn’t love that response. She sets her wineglass down and looks at me.
“Now Rori, you never should be with a man to be ‘fulfilled.’ That’s the last thing I mean. You make your own happiness and don’t settle,” she explains. “But you also don’t want a life without love. You don’t want to shut off your heart for your entire tennis career, which could last for years.”
I look down at my plate as she continues. “Your mother would be the first one to tell you, she was such a free spirit. Stay open to anything. And it’s okay to change. To grow. To have new experiences. That’s life.”
I bring my head up to make eye contact with her again, to show I’m listening.
“Okay, Aunt Mandy, I’ll think about it,” I say, trying to placate her so we can change the topic.
Would I love to make it all work, my career, family, friends, and a guy all fit together so I have a balanced life? Sure.
But I don’t know how to do that. How to make it all happen without taking away from tennis.
And if I don’t prioritize the game, I’m scared that it may leave me behind.
Everything at the Pink Sisters fundraiser goes off without a hitch the next day, with a few surprises.
It’s crazy to me, but everyone treats me like I’m a pop star or something.
All the attendees seem to know who I am, which is wild to experience in my hometown, where only a year ago I could do anything without being recognized.
Who knew that winning a few more tennis matches would result in this uptick of attention?
I spend a lot of time signing autographs and taking pictures before one of the event staff pulls me away for interviews.
The next surprising development happens as the winners cross the Fun Run finish line.
“And our female winner for the Fun Run is…. Grace Battle,” the announcer says over the loudspeaker.
Huh? Landon’s sister?
A couple of minutes later, I’m led over to where Grace is recovering from the race. Panting heavily, she still looks striking with her long blond hair and runner’s physique. I notice she also has Landon’s hazel eyes.
When she sees me, a big smile comes over her face, and she steps forward to shake my hand.
“Hi Rori, I’m Grace. So nice to meet you,” she says. Her expression looks genuine, not fake.
I relax and match her energy. “Congrats on winning the race. Landon mentioned you’re an incredible runner. But how’d you end up here?”
She doesn’t seem thrown off by my question. “Well, I run amateur races all over Florida, for fun. And this one was on a master calendar of races I follow. Orlando to Tampa isn’t a bad drive, so it was the best option this weekend.”
I nod, her explanation seeming logical.
“I did see your name on the registration material though and also mentioned it to Landon, since I know you two just had that photo shoot. So I’m here on a mission for him too,” she says. “Give me one second to grab my bag from my car.”
What does she mean, a mission for Landon?
Five minutes later, she’s back—delivering an answer to that question, also the final surprise of the day.
“So Landon was telling me about your mom. I’m so sorry for your loss,” Grace says softly. “He wanted me to bring this, to support the event.”
She hands over a small piece of paper folded in half. I take it in my hand and unfold it.
It’s a check. From Landon. A donation to the Pink Sisters organization, the charity benefiting from today. A donation of $7,500. Oh my god.
“What?” I say, trying to find my words. “This is so generous. I can’t believe he’d do this.”
Grace smiles knowingly. “That’s Landon for you. He likes taking care of things that matter to the people in his life.”
I nod, still stunned.
“Well, it was really nice to meet you,” Grace says, putting her hand on my arm as a parting gesture. “I need to head back to study for a test tomorrow. Good luck with the rest of the event.”
And off she goes, leaving me still processing everything that just happened.