Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
At one thirty under a seventy-degree sun, the Nantucket varsity matches began.
Ada, Kathy, Kade, and Olivia sat on the stands, eating popcorn and watching as Hannah glided across the court, getting to each and every ball, and oftentimes smashing it over the net.
Ada was captivated and always nervous, hardly aware of the girls on the other court, as she was entirely fixated on her daughter.
When Hannah won the first match, she grabbed a bright blue sports drink and came over to hang with her family and watch the other girls.
She had two additional matches left that afternoon, but she looked determined and ready to play.
Ada made her eat an extra snack and combed her fingers through her hair.
“You’re killing it, honey,” she said, then took a photo of Hannah to send to Peter. “I know your dad wishes he could be here.”
“It’s not a big deal.” Hannah shrugged, then twisted away so that Ada couldn’t see her face.
“Hey, some of the girls were talking about hanging out after this. I was thinking, you know, I’m a senior.
Maybe I should invite everyone over?” Hannah kept her eyes on the match three courts away, where one of her teammates ran up to the net, blond ponytail whipping.
Ada decided this was the perfect way to help her daughter forget her father’s absence.
“Yes! We’ll turn on the hot tub and order food for everyone,” Ada declared.
She couldn’t believe these were her daughter’s final high school matches, a four-year journey that had brought Hannah further and further away from Ada.
During the next two matches, Ada clapped and howled nice shot and let’s go, Hannah!
until her voice went hoarse. Miraculously, the other girls on the Nantucket team were winning right and left, and soon it was announced that Nantucket had earned enough points to be named the all-around winners of the tournament.
Ada, Kathy, Kade, and Olivia were on their feet, clapping their hands.
Kade mentioned going to meet a friend, and Olivia expressed her desire to go somewhere for a sleepover.
Ada decided it was all the better. She’d have tons of tennis players at the house and more than enough to deal with.
After the trophies were handed out and the seniors were honored, Kathy drove back to the house first to make sure everything was clean and tidy for the high schoolers.
Ada hung back, watching as Hannah chatted with her coach and hugged her teammates.
They were going to miss each other; these would be the memories they carried with them forever.
When Hannah reached her mother, she was glistening with sweat, and her hair hung down her back in tangles. But she threw her arms around her and said, “Thank you.”
Ada was caught off guard. Before she could ask what Hannah was thanking her for, Hannah explained that all the girls were coming to the house, and she’d promised pizza, if that was all right.
“Pizza? Again?” Ada laughed.
Hannah shrugged. “It’s what we want. I could eat it every day.”
“You know what? I could eat it every day, too,” Ada said, gathering her purse and watching as the other players leaped into one another’s cars and peeled off for her place.
She was grateful to be the destination, the safe space for fun and relaxation.
She imagined them staying up late, watching romantic comedies, and sharing secrets.
Hannah was so often a loner, so it meant something that she wanted to have her teammates over.
Back at the house, twelve tennis players gathered on the back porch over boxes of pizza and cups of Coke.
Kathy and Ada sat off to the side with their own plates of pizza, listening to the girls giggle and talk about their various matches.
Another senior had nearly lost her match when her opponent had prepared to smash a ball over the net, but the opponent had just barely missed the ball, sending it into the ground instead.
After that, the Nantucket senior had fought valiantly and secured a victory.
“I lucked out,” the senior said.
They high-fived and took more pizza before deciding to change into their suits and get into the hot tub.
Two years ago, Peter had opted for the ultra-large hot tub to accommodate their entire family.
Because the girls were slender, all twelve of them could stuff themselves inside the hot tub.
Ada took their photograph and sat at the edge, wrapped in a blanket and inhaling the steam from the tub.
She knew better than to check her phone, but she did anyway and realized that Peter still hadn’t responded, not even to the photographs she’d sent from the match.
She tried another text.
ME: How is Max? I’m worried about you.
Through the kitchen window, she could see her mother cleaning the counters and whistling to herself. For the first time, she felt truly grateful that her mother was here. My only friend, she thought inexplicably, then cursed herself.
“Girls, I can’t believe that was our last match ever,” one of the seniors said, pouting as she looked down at the bubbles.
A few of the girls, including Hannah, agreed.
And then, the first senior spontaneously burst into tears. The girls were stricken.
“It’s okay!” they said, reaching for her. “It’s just a sport!”
“You can always play tennis in college!”
“We still have all summer. We can meet and play!”
But the sobbing senior shook her head and said, “It isn’t that. Nate broke up with me yesterday. And I think that’s why I played so badly!” She let out another howl, and the girls were in an uproar, trying to calm her down and assure her that Nate was the worst.
Ada bit her tongue, overwhelmed with sorrow.
Because she was a therapist, it felt up to her to deliver the news that your high school boyfriend wouldn’t be very important to you in a few years.
She wanted to give context to this strange and exhilarating time.
But then again, the worst thing you could do to a high school girl was make her think her feelings didn’t matter in the long run.
Ada got to her feet and tiptoed away from the hot tub and into the house, catching Hannah’s eye as she went.
Hannah mouthed, “Thank you,” probably because she knew Ada had had to fight not to say anything. Hannah had a great deal of emotional intelligence. Sometimes it floored Ada.
When she closed the door behind her and entered the kitchen, Kathy turned, drying a plate, and said, “Tears in the hot tub? Already?”
Ada laughed and sat at the kitchen table, still wrapped in the blanket. “They’re under a lot of stress right now. So many changes. So many silly high school boys.”
“You couldn’t pay me to be eighteen again,” Kathy said.
But Ada had adored being eighteen: lost to the beauty of the city, going to opera auditions, hearing her name on the lips of some of the biggest names in the industry. Her life had been moving at a fast clip. She’d forgotten her high school boyfriend’s name immediately.
She hadn’t needed anyone! Except Quinn.
Kathy and Ada sat for a little while in the kitchen, watching the sky dim and hearing the faint voices of the teenage girls as they gossiped and built one another up, sharing stories of their own broken hearts.
Ada wondered if this was the kind of talk that Max and Peter were having right now; if Peter had thrown his phone in his pocket and forgotten about it, because he was so distracted by his friend’s emotions.
It was the kind of guy Peter was, Ada reminded herself. Kind. Open-hearted. Eager to listen.
An hour or so later, the doorbell rang. Ada popped up and went to the foyer, her head elsewhere. When she opened it to find Nick Willis, the poet, standing there, her heart jumped into her throat. He looked mystified. Immediately, it was as if electricity had zapped the air between them.
“Nick?” Ada asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
She’d heard of this happening before—passionate patients becoming obsessed with their therapists and tracking them down.
He was a poet. Maybe he’d felt that urgency between them (if it even existed?) and decided to throw out the rulebook.
She prepared to tell him she was married and would never date a patient, as it was considered unethical.
“Hey! Um. Wow. Dr. Wagner. This is Hannah Bushner’s house?” Nick asked.
Ada’s anxiety crashed in on itself. “Yes. It is. Hannah’s my daughter.” She opened the door a little bit wider and added, “I go by my maiden name at work. After all that school, you know, I didn’t want to be known by my husband’s last name.”
“I totally get that,” Nick said. His lips drew a smile. “My daughter is here, I think. Carleigh?”
Ada remembered hearing the name “Carleigh” off and on during the matches this season and vaguely remembered Hannah saying there was a new girl from the city who was “really good.” It clicked.
“Your daughter is that Carleigh!” Ada said, beckoning for Nick to come in. “I should have put two and two together. Oh, but I never saw you at any of the matches!”
Nick winced. “She doesn’t like me to sit in the bleachers. She says it makes her too nervous. But I’m always off in the parking lot with a pair of binoculars, watching as much as I can from the car.”
Ada was impressed that he still made an effort to watch his daughter while respecting her boundaries. She wondered if his last therapist had clued him into that.
But Nick continued, “To tell you the truth, it’s painful for me, too.
My wife was a professional tennis player.
It’s how we met. I was there to write about her match for a magazine.
I interviewed her, and that was that.” He lowered his voice and let his eyes drift to the ground.
“Carleigh likes the sport, but she wants to quit now that the season is over. I can’t blame her.
She’ll never be as good as her mother, and I know it brings up painful memories. ”
“Did her mother want her to go pro?” Ada asked.
Nick shook his head. “No way. She wanted Carleigh to do something with her brain. I think she always hated that she made money with her body and had to rely on it. It’s awful, considering what happened later. The cancer.”
Ada nodded, her chest tightening.
“But you must know all about that,” Nick said, narrowing his eyes.
Ada looked at him, unable to speak. Does he know who I am?
Before she could ask, a few of the tennis girls came inside, shivering from too much hot tub time.
One of them was Carleigh, who said, “Oh, Dad. You’re here.
I’ll get my stuff.” She disappeared into the study to put on an oversized sweatshirt and grab her bag.
Soon, she was hovering next to her father, her cheeks soft and blue, waiting.
Ada thought, These people have been through so much together; they’re a team.
It offered greater context for her next steps with Nick in therapy.
“Great playing today, Carleigh,” Ada said, reaching for the doorknob to let them out. “Really glad you were on the team this year.”
Carleigh smiled. “Thanks. And thanks for the pizza.” Then she ducked into the night.
Nick saluted Ada and waved goodbye to the few other players who were hanging in the hall. “Nice work, girls. See you at graduation!”
With that, Nick and Carleigh were gone, leaving Ada the rest of the night to ponder what he’d said, but you must know all about that.
All about—your body as a means to make money?
He’d been in New York City the same years she’d been.
Had he known about the opera? Had he heard her name, whispered on every corner, excitement brimming till the collapse?
When Ada returned to the kitchen, she was surprised to remember her mother was still here, sitting sleepily in front of a glass of wine, waiting for something. When Ada didn’t say anything, Kathy smiled and stretched her arms over her head. “He’s handsome,” she said. “I’m going to bed.”