Chapter 2
A balmy breeze brushed my face as I stepped onto the terrace and looked out over the Pacific.
It was aquamarine, somewhat darker where the water was deeper.
The lapping of the waves mixed with the sounds of birds and insects.
From where I stood, I couldn’t see much of the beach, just the occasional glimpse through the palm leaves and dense plumeria trees that bordered the terrace and provided a little shade.
Barefoot, I tiptoed across the sun-warmed natural stone and sat down by the pool.
The pool was decorated with blue mosaic stones, which gave the water a particularly vibrant color.
I dipped my feet and waited for Kay, who came out of the house shortly afterward with two glasses clinking with ice cubes.
She handed me one and sat down at the edge.
We let our legs dangle for a while and chatted about all sorts of things.
My journey, the trip with Gabe, my parents, Munich, my injury, PT work, the US Open.
“So, you and Gabe,” I began, looking at the two deck chairs by the side of the pool. “Are you all…?”
“God, no!” She laughed a little too brightly. “He’s just a friend.”
“A good-looking friend.”
She wrinkled her nose, then asked, “You think?”
“For an old guy,” I replied, shrugging, and we both burst out laughing. “He looks a bit like Jason Momoa.” She laughed.
“Well, anyway, Gabe seems nice. And”—I winked—“he seemed to suggest that he and his wife had separated.”
“Julie, yeah.” Kay’s eyes grew pensive. “She’s back on the mainland after the thing with Keiko.” She hesitated. “A few years ago, Gabe and Julie’s son died while out surfing.”
My eyes grew wide in shock.
“It was a terrible tragedy.”
I lowered my glance. A sense of heaviness at odds with the environment spread across the terrace.
“Sheesh, that was a real buzzkill, wasn’t it? Let’s talk about something else. Your plans for today, for example. What are you in the mood for? You want to take a day trip somewhere? Go to the beach? Or would you rather just chill here by the pool?”
“Umm…I thought that maybe we’d start off with a training session?”
“Today?”
“Well, I mean, thanks to the flight I’ve already lost a day, so…”
She tilted her head indecisively. “You’ve been on your feet for over twenty hours. It’d be a better idea to take it easy and get off to a flying start tomorrow.”
Even though I knew Kay was right, I couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy at the thought of spending the rest of the day doing nothing.
The US Open was just a little over six weeks away, and there was still so much to do.
My timing was off. My footwork wasn’t good enough, I was making too many unforced errors, and I was lacking match practice.
If I wanted to keep up with the best in the world, I’d have to give it my all, seven days a week.
Kay seemed to sense my antsiness. “Listen. Why don’t you start off with an easy run down the beach?
That will get your metabolism going and will help with your jet lag.
This afternoon I will show you the tennis school, and you can get to know everyone.
And tomorrow we’ll get going. How’s that sound? ”
The pressure in my chest dissipated. I smiled and nodded.
* * *
Back in the guest room, I stripped off the clothes I’d worn on the flight and slipped into mint-colored running shorts and a white workout top.
June in Germany had been sunny and hot, and I’d spent most of it out on the clay court.
My hair was a shimmering honey color rather than its usual dark blond.
After braiding it into a plait, I put on a cap and plenty of sunscreen.
Kay was on the phone when I came back downstairs.
I caught words like disturbance and unacceptable before silently waving goodbye and sliding through the terrace door.
Just then I realized I hadn’t even followed up about her important appointment and wondered if it might have had to do with the call.
A garden gate led me to a narrow flight of stone steps that led down to the beach.
The sand was white and fine grained. I walked to the water, past a family setting up folding chairs and anchoring a neon-yellow umbrella in the sand.
Apart from them, there were few people around.
Powerful waves rolled toward me as I approached the water.
It was surprisingly warm, and it felt great to let it wash over my skin.
My gaze wandered out to sea and a lone surfer waiting for a wave.
As it came closer, he began to paddle, pushed himself up, and jumped to his feet.
He rushed toward the beach in an impressively casual way, and I couldn’t help but envy him.
That effortlessness was precisely what I was lacking out on the court.
I was too tense, too uptight, too anxious.
I could feel it deep down, and I could see it on my face when Milan and I analyzed the videos of my training sessions.
Being here without him was strange. He’d been training me for years, but, thanks to the birth of his twins, had asked for a few months off.
That, too, had helped me make the decision to come to Hawaii and train with Kay.
I looked away from the surfer, took a deep breath, and started to run.
Close to the water the sand was firm, but I quickly felt my muscles working hard.
After the first few hundred feet, my calves began to grow a little sore.
Not to mention my struggles with the humidity and the tropical sun.
Fighting shortness of breath, I glanced at my smartwatch and saw that my pulse was far too high.
Out of habit, I reached for my water bottle before realizing I hadn’t brought it with me.
Shit! Why hadn’t I thought of putting on my hydration belt?
I passed a watchtower and toyed with the idea of asking the lifeguard for water.
But he was on the sand doing crunches. Great.
I picked up the pace and jogged on. A few minutes later, I realized that I was about to overdo it.
My muscles were over-acidifying, my throat was dry as dust, and my eyes were beginning to flicker dangerously.
Checking my heart rate again, I turned around and made my way back past the lifeguard, who was once again in his tower looking out over the ocean with a pair of binoculars.
You can manage this last bit too, I told myself and sped back up.
From here it would be, at most, half a mile to Kay’s.
I ran past a few kids playing around in the breakers and considered doing the same.
Simply jumping into the coolness and dipping my head.
But I just wiped the sweat off my forehead instead and kept on going.
Not far from me, I spotted the surfer again, letting himself be carried to the beach by one last wave.
His board under his arm, he climbed out of the water and shook his wet hair out of his face.
He was wearing bright-red surf shorts that sat low on his hips, and even at a distance I could see how cute he was.
If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought I was in some beachwear commercial.
I let out a half-amused, half-derisive sigh.
As I jogged past, our eyes met. Just for a second, but long enough to realize that he was perfect for the role.
And that it would be better for my already-overheated self to focus my eyes on my feet.
My feet, which were sinking deeper into the sand with every step.
As if they’d been hung with weights. How much farther was it?
Wasn’t that the neon-yellow umbrella up ahead?
I squinted against the sun and fought off a feeling of dizziness.
Black dots danced before my eyes. Oh no!
I came to an abrupt stop, put my hands on my thighs, and lowered my head, breathing heavily.
Okay. Let me stop a second… Just for a few seconds… Just…