Chapter 1 #2
“My parents are good,” I answered in the hopes of steering the conversation back into harmless territory.
“My mother is enjoying her life beyond all the tennis hype, and Dad travels a lot for ESPN.” An idea shot through my head.
“I should write to tell them that I got here okay.” I quickly pulled out my phone, and after sending the message, I looked up to see an old-school wooden sign with a surfer riding a wave announcing the town of Haleiwa.
We drove down Main Street with its pastel-colored wooden houses, soft gusts of wind waving through the tops of the palms along the sides of the road.
Tourists were streaming out of the souvenir shops with shopping bags in their hands or standing in line for ice cream or having breakfast. Tanned surfers were taking their boards off trailers while a few people zipped by on skates and bicycles, their wet hair air-drying.
“There’s always something going on here at night, if you ever start to get a little stir-crazy over at Kay’s.”
I smiled, though I couldn’t imagine being interested in doing anything but falling onto my mattress, dead tired, after my daily training sessions.
The road between Haleiwa and Pūpūkea led past blindingly white beaches and a shimmering, turquoise ocean that was already full of surfers awaiting the perfect wave.
To my left at regular intervals luxurious beach villas hid behind garden gates, while to my right thick, deep-green tropical forests bled into the mountains.
Eventually Gabe turned on his blinker and stopped in front of a gate with a tropical floral motif.
He rolled the window down, leaned out, and typed in a code.
There was a beep, and the gate opened onto a well-kept driveway.
Palm trees, blooming bushes, and a patch of grass that would have been the envy of any gardener lined the way to the house—a two-story construction of dusty-blue painted wood.
The doors and window frames were white, and the flat roof was made of some kind of palmlike material.
Next to the house there was a garage, which was just like a copy of the house in miniature.
Thanks to my mother showing me pictures, I knew that out back there was a terrace and a pool looking out onto the ocean, and a series of stairs that led straight down to the beach.
Beautiful as it was, I was still unsure that it would be a good idea to spend the six weeks before my comeback training at Kay’s tennis school in Oahu.
“This would be us,” Gabe said, stopping right in front of the staircase.
While I sat watching the gate close in the rearview mirror, he was already out of the car to get my bags.
“You don’t have to carry my things,” I said in vain as he swung my tennis bag over his shoulder and carried my suitcase up the stairs.
For the first time, I noticed that his calf was tattooed as well.
A black pattern that looked like waves. He put my suitcase down before the front door and typed in another code.
For a second, I couldn’t help but wonder how close he and Kay really were.
As far as I knew, there wasn’t any man in her life, but maybe that had changed?
In any event, the matter-of-fact way he typed in the codes and his knowing them all by heart suggested that he was a regular guest at least.
He edged his sunglasses up into his hair. “Kay should be back soon, but I can come in and show you everything.”
My suspicions hardened.
“That’s not necessary,” I answered, being sure that Gabe had better things to do than play babysitter. “I’ll just start unpacking.”
“You know where the guest room is?”
An embarrassed grin crossed my face. “No.”
“First floor. Last room on the right.”
The little detective inside me felt unambiguously vindicated.
“Got it.”
“Then, take it easy.” He winked. “We’ll see each other tomorrow morning on the treatment table.”
I nodded. “Thanks for picking me up.”
Walking off, he said goodbye with a shaka sign.
I waited until the gate was closed then stepped into the pleasantly air-conditioned home.
It smelled good. Of flowers or some kind of room freshener.
I slipped out of my sneakers and ankle socks and relished the feeling of the cool floor beneath the sweaty soles of my feet.
The dark hardwood floor created a lovely contrast to the interior of the open living- and dining-room area.
White furniture, linen lampshades, natural fiber carpet.
There wasn’t a lot of decoration. A modern, wooden sculpture, a pile of coffee-table books, a few framed photos.
Unlike at home, no bridal couple, no first day of school, no family trips, but photos of Kay’s accomplishments—a young Black woman at her first Wimbledon win, later proudly holding her Olympic silver into the camera, and one of Kay being received in the Oval Office by Michelle Obama.
Unlike my mother, after her tennis career Kay hadn’t started a family.
Instead, she had begun to work for the Women’s Tennis Association, founded an association to promote young tennis talent, and worked as tournament director for the San Diego Open.
She coached a Top 20 player, made it to the New York Times bestseller list with her autobiography In Tennis Love Means Zero, and managed to be part of a Netflix documentary.
Then, a few years ago, she bought the beach villa on Oahu and opened the Diamond School of Tennis close by, the very place I would be spending the next six weeks preparing for my comeback.
I continued on my reconnaissance mission and had a look at the kitchen.
The lacquered cabinets sparkled, as did the stainless steel of the refrigerator, and there was a basket full of spotless bananas on the counter.
To my right a staircase led up to the first floor.
A cream-colored macramé runner lay on the dark floorboards and muffled my footsteps.
I walked to the end of the hall and opened the door.
At first I thought that Gabe must have made some mistake.
The room was huge, at least two times as big as the one I had in Munich.
It was done in the same style as the rest of the house: dusty blue and white, natural materials, and wood.
A sliding door led to a walk-in closet, another into a spacious bathroom with a tub you could have gone surfing in.
The best thing, however, was the balcony overlooking the ocean.
I was about to slide open the door when I heard a sound from below.
“Lou?”
I quickly ran downstairs, where Kay met me with a wide smile.
“Lou!” She pulled me into a warm embrace before stepping back and looking at me. “You look good.”
“You too.”
Even if it sounded like I was just being polite, I meant it.
With her height and her slim, athletic figure, she’d always been a sight to behold, but Kay had only discovered her penchant for fashion recently.
Today she was wearing yellow paper bag shorts and a white blouse top.
She wore her shoulder-length hair natural, unlike in the past on the tennis court, where she wore it in cornrows.
“I am so sorry I wasn’t able to pick you up from the airport.” She sighed. “This morning was really something.”
“What happened?”
She made a dismissive gesture. “I’ll tell you once you’ve settled in. Why don’t you get unpacked first and then…” She took a quick look around. “Where are your things?”
“Upstairs in the guest room. Gabe showed me where it was.”
She shrugged. “Even better. I hope you like it?”
I shot her a glance implying that she couldn’t be serious. “It’s insane. Especially the view!”
“Have you already been out on the terrace?” Her thumb pointed to the left, and she winked. “View’s not too shabby there either.”