Match Point Read online

  Jodi shook her head, swallowing her mouthful. “I felt the heat but I didn’t, if you know what I mean?” She sat down on the bench, pulling off her shoes as she spoke. “I knew I was sweating and my feet were hot but I just went with it, you know? Actually I sort of liked it that hot. I felt like I could really feel my whole body,” she trailed off. “I think I’m a bit dehydrated though, I need more fluids.”

  Jason dug into his bag and pulled out a cold bottle of coconut-flavored sports drink. “Here you go.”

  “Ooh, my favorite, thanks.” Jodi took the bottle gratefully, twisting it open and tipping her head back to let the cool sweet liquid run down her throat. She sighed, leaning against Jason a little. “Can we go home now?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he said, “as soon as you’ve dealt with the thirty reporters, ten tennis officials and five hundred fans waiting for you outside this door, you can go home straightaway!” Jason chuckled. “You don’t make it in to the finals of a tournament like this, after five years off the courts, and get to slink away like the loser, Jodes. Especially to an at home crowd!”

  “I’ll go get decent.” She cracked him a lopsided smile and ambled toward the shower.

  Jodi was tired, but she was excited. Jase was right, she thought, as she turned the shower taps on hard, reveling under the strong stream of cool water. She shook out her braid, working shampoo through the length of her long dark hair, enjoying the ache of tiredness in her arms. Today had been a huge occasion and she was glad people had shown up to support her and were waiting to talk to her, to celebrate with her after the match. It was her chance to show she was still finals material and thankfully, she had nailed it. A small thrill fluttered through her. I won! she thought. The months of training and preparation had paid off and the ball was rolling.

  Entering the tournament just last week, Jodi had not been immune to the murmurs of surprise and questioning looks. After five years off the court, no one had expected her to come back, let alone come back as a winner. She almost didn’t really expect it herself. And yet, here she was, four wins into her first US Open wild card qualifying tournament, lining up for the finals in two days’ time. Jodi didn’t dare think about what would come next, strangely superstitious about jinxing her future by imagining it too vividly. If I picture it in my mind, it might not happen, she thought. She knew she was at odds with the current self-help trend of positive thinking, but it was a quirky little habit she had picked up as a child and found she couldn’t shake.

  She had first discovered this “power” when she was waiting for letters from her father, after they had gone to live with Nan. Jodi had no recollection of her mother becoming sick. At four years old, she had been too young to really understand what was happening when the cancer had set in. Her father had been so grief-stricken by their mother’s illness that he sent Jodi and Ally to Nan’s, unable to look after both his daughters and his increasingly ill wife.

  After her mom’s death, her father had seemed to fade away. Burying himself in work, he took on more travel assignments, leaving the girls for longer and longer with Nan until it had made sense for them to move in permanently.

  Nan had been everything to both girls: grandmother, mother, and father, too, really. She had done her best to fill all the holes in their lives while everything had fallen down around them. She had sung the girls to sleep, driven them to school, helped with their homework, baked and cooked and cleaned, and sewn without a word of complaint; even though this was, Jodi realized much later, the second time she was raising children. Looking back, Jodi realized that Nan had always put their grief before her own, their needs at the forefront of everything, even when she must have been aching with the loss of her own daughter.

  Jodi and Ally’s father had occasionally sent postcards and even small letters from the various exotic places he visited for conferences and workshops, and Jodi would wait for them anxiously. Walking up the hill from school in the afternoons, she would tell herself not to imagine the letterbox with a letter in it, just to clear her mind and let it be, annoying herself when a picture of a postcard would suddenly appear, unbidden in her mind. She found that the days when she hadn’t been thinking of her father at all were usually the ones when a letter would appear. Jodi had hung on to this strange theory ever since.

  One step at a time, she told herself as she turned off the taps and wrapped herself in a towel. Just focus on each moment as it comes. She had felt guilty when she had abandoned her tennis career to be with Tara, like she had been somehow disloyal to Nan, and all the time and effort she had put in over the years to support Jodi in her burgeoning tennis career. “If you want this, my girl, then let’s go get it,” Nan used to say, as they had all packed up the car to drive to an out-of-town tournament. Jodi couldn’t quite think about Nan when she lived with Tara. The memories had been too painful and she had felt like the life she was living was somehow at odds with the values Nan had raised her with. Nan would have wanted to know what her plans were, what she wanted to do with her life now that she was done with tennis, but Jodi had shut out those thoughts and allowed herself to be steered along by Tara.

  But now, with her first comeback match behind her, she let herself imagine that soft, increasingly wrinkled face she had loved so much.

  “I’m back, Nan,” she whispered as she stopped for a moment in front of the mirror. She studied her face for the old signs of likeness. She knew they had shared the long straight nose so characteristic of her mother’s family line, and of course, there were the dark brown eyes. Even when she had been close to the end of her life, Nan’s eyes had still held their vivid shine.

  Drying herself and pulling on clean shorts and a fresh T-shirt, Jodi focused her thoughts, trying to prepare herself for the press conference to come. She knew they were going to ask her some difficult questions, and she’d been over them again and again. Do you think you can do it after all this time away? Why did you leave? Why did you come back? She knew they wouldn’t hesitate to get straight to the point. For a moment, Jodi flashed back to Tara’s face, feeling the familiar stab of pain in her heart as she replayed their final conversation.

  “You’re just never really there,” Tara said flatly, defending her actions when Jodi had discovered the affair.

  “But what do you mean?” Jodi asked, crying in confusion and frustration. “I’m always here. All I am is here. Day in, day out, I’m here; doing things for us, keeping our lives perfect.”

  “Yes, you’re here,” Tara said wearily, as if it were an effort just to speak the words. “You’re here, but your mind is always somewhere else. Your heart is never really fully open. I’m sorry, Jodi, but I’ve fallen in love with her and I can’t do this anymore. We’re done.”

  And with that Tara walked coldly out the door, carefully closing it behind her, as deliberately as she had closed Jodi out of her life. Jodi was devastated, her heart was smashed, but there was a part of her that knew Tara was right. A part of Jodi was numb, and felt like it had been for years.

  Jodi shook her head and took a deep breath, letting go of the memory. She reminded herself that she was prepared for this; she was ready to face the questions about her long absence and now, her return. Fixing herself with a steely gaze in the mirror, she ran a brush through her long, straight brown hair, twisting it up into a bun. You can do this, she told herself, and headed out to meet the waiting group.

  Jodi slid onto the plastic chair next to her coach, behind the table set up with microphones for the press conference.

  “You ready?” Jason gave her arm a squeeze.

  Her face was set with determination. “Bring it on.”

  “Okay, ladies and gentleman,” Jason spoke into the microphone, bringing the waiting press group to attention. “Jodi has ten minutes to answer your questions today and then I’m sure you’ll appreciate she needs to get her rest and focus for the final match on Saturday. So who’s first?”

  A bunch of hands shot up.

  Jason chose a young repor
ter at the front for the first question. “Yes, Patrick. Fire away.” Jason knew all the reporters’ names, having been in the business for a long time.

  “Um, Jodi,” Patrick called, “what made you decide to come back to tennis?”

  Jodi looked out at the crowd of reporters, taking in the flashing cameras and microphones pointed her way. Dipping her head, she spoke slowly into the microphone. “I thought I could still win.”

  The crowd laughed and the questions continued to come thick and fast, with Jason picking people out of the group and handling the process smoothly. The media, she knew, had an insatiable desire for detail, and things could be misconstrued incredibly easily—so she approached every question with consideration and care as she gave her answers. They asked her to analyze her wins, her past losses, changes to her playing style, changes to her support team, and finally, after what had seemed like an hour, Jason called wrap-up.

  “One last question folks.” He scanned the crowd for someone who hadn’t had a chance to speak yet. He singled out an older man with his hand up. “Oh yes, John, what have you got for us?”

  “Right, thanks. Jodi,” he asked, “why did you actually leave tennis?”

  “Uh, well, I…” Jodi cleared her throat, and took a sip of water. “I left for love.”

  A murmur passed through the crowd and they waited expectantly for more, but she wasn’t going to give it to them if she didn’t have to.

  “Er, and?” John pushed, digging for more.

  She looked at her glass of water, noticing condensation droplets forming on the outside of the cool glass in the heat. She ran a finger down the outside of the glass and picked it up. She took a small sip. “And that didn’t work out. So I’m back,” she stoically replied.

  “And that’s enough for today. Thanks, ladies and gents.” Jason stood up, signaling the end to the conference. Together Jodi and Jason stood for a moment for the cameras. Jodi smiled and thanked them all for coming and for continuing to support her career. With a final wave, they left the building, hurrying into the cool air-conditioned car waiting for them outside the tennis center.

  “That was great.” Jason slid into the seat across from her as the car pulled away from the curb. “You said enough, you didn’t say too much. Got to keep them guessing a bit, don’t we?”

  “Sure,” Jodi replied, watching the people mill about the entrance to the building as they drove slowly past. She was beginning to feel numb with exhaustion, her win today an almost distant memory.

  “Jodi! Jodi!” People pressed toward the car. “Sign my shirt!”

  “Will you sign my ball?”

  “Hey Jodi!”

  “Stop the car please,” Jodi called out to the driver, buzzing down her window. She reached through the opening and shook hands, signed shirts and balls and even a man’s back with her permanent marker, smiling patiently as she thanked her fans and told them she had to get home for some pre-finals rest.

  As the car slowly moved forward again, Jodi’s head felt heavy. She wanted to lie down right there on the backseat, press her face into the leather, and sleep. She remembered those times when she was a kid, driving home late at night with Nan. She would undo her seat belt and stretch out, her head touching one door and her feet touching the other as she drifted off to the quiet rumble of the tires on the road and the muted sounds of Nan and Ally talking in the front. They’d never let kids do that these days, Jodi thought.

  She needed to get home now and relax, get away from the buzz and the hype and have some time to herself. Home, she thought ruefully to herself. Well, at least to her hotel room. Could you call a hotel room home? She had been there since leaving Ally’s almost eight months before, which made it a kind of home, she guessed.

  Jodi shuddered, remembering the night she had left the home she shared with Tara and gone to Ally’s, how she had feverishly packed her clothes into bags, and shoved papers and books into boxes and shopping bags before she had rung Ally to pick her up.

  “You all right?” Jason stretched his legs out in front of him as far as they could reach in the back of the luxury car.

  As they sped silently through the streets of Sacramento toward her hotel, Jodi was filled with gratitude toward him. Not only had he listened to her when she had finally gotten up the courage to ring him, but he had accepted her apology. She had told him everything and he was gracious, if a little gruff.

  “I don’t make judgments about how you want to live your life, Jodi,” he said when she had told him she was gay. “I just care how you play tennis. You could have told me, you know,” his voice cracked.

  “I know that now…” she said.

  “Five years, Jodi! It’s been five years.”

  “Will you have me back?” she had asked in a small voice, daring to hope he would give her the answer she wanted.

  “I never let you go.” Jodi could hear the smile in his voice.

  “Jodes?” His brow was a line of concern.

  “Sorry. Daydreaming. I’m fine.” She rubbed her hands across her eyes. “Just exhausted.”

  “I’m not surprised. It’s been a huge day. In fact, it’s been a huge week. And now we need to get you some R and R in time for Saturday’s match. What are you doing for dinner tonight?”

  “I think I’ll just eat some leftovers and curl up on the couch with a movie. What I really need is a long hot bath and about fifty liters of fluids! I’d almost forgotten how intense it is to play in this heat!”

  “Tomorrow we’ll get the physio up in the morning to check you over and rub out the kinks before we hit the practice courts, okay?” Jason pushed his hair out of his eyes as he reached over to grab his tournament folder. “Kitchfield and Drummond are playing the semifinals tomorrow at…um…” Jason scanned the folder, trailing his finger down the match lists until he hit upon the line he wanted. “Eleven a.m., court five. I think we should be there. You’ll be up against the winner for the finals, so it’s a good chance for us to study the play. How about we meet down at the practice court at eight a.m. to hit some balls beforehand?”

  “So, physio at seven a.m.?” Jodi longed for a sleep-in but dismissed the feeling out of hand. She’d had five years of luxurious sleep-ins and what had that achieved? Nothing. All she had done was lie restlessly in bed, waiting for Tara to want to get up and start the day. Eventually she started sneaking out of bed early, while Tara still slept, careful to avoid the hand that would grab her and pull her back to bed for interminable snuggles if she accidentally woke her. Used to years of early morning tennis starts and hugely energetic days, it was a novelty at first, lying around in bed late into the mornings on the weekends, but it had quickly worn off, leaving her fidgety and uneasy in their king-sized bed.

  “Why don’t we ask the physio to come up straight after your shower so you’re nice and supple? Do you want to have breakfast first? She could come at six thirty a.m. to give you a full work-over before we hit,” Jason said.

  “Sounds good.” Jodi felt a rush of gratitude toward him. It was good to be a team again. “Tomorrow I want to focus on service. I’m just not getting my feet right. I feel like I’m all set up and then suddenly I realize, halfway through the toss, that I’m not in the right position and I’m off-kilter. I think that’s why I doubled-faulted today,” Jodi said.

  “Let’s do that then,” Jason replied, noting it down in his folder.

  The car neared Jodi’s hotel and she looked forward to sinking into the hot tub, letting the heat and the bubbles do their magic on her shaky muscles.

  “How’s Sally coping in this heat?” At five months pregnant, Jason’s petite wife was already quite big.

  “She’s definitely feeling it. She said to me this morning she can’t decide which would be worse, being pregnant in this heat, or being married to someone who is pregnant in this heat!”

  Jodi laughed. “Lucky you’ve got AC.”

  “Yes, and lucky I make such a good slave. Hey, I’d like to bring Miranda Ciccone to practice tomor
row. I’m thinking of moving her up to assistant coach and I want to see how she goes with planning out our practice schedule between now and Saturday. Is that cool with you? I mean, obviously I’ll oversee her.” Jason looked up from the folder he had been studying, seeking Jodi’s approval. “I’ve had her analyzing your play for a while now, and she knows your style. I want to see if she can properly gauge your strengths and weaknesses and come up with a plan of attack.”

  “Miranda?” Jodi looked at Jason blankly, momentarily confused. Her eyebrows pulled together as she tried to place the name.

  “You know, the chick who’s been running my junior coaching team. You met her a couple of months ago when she was doing that early warm-up session with some of the juniors on the court next to ours.”

  “Oh yeah, her? You want to move her up? Who do you have to replace her?”

  “I don’t need to replace her at the moment, the juniors are tracking really well and we’ve got enough staff on the team to carry it while I try her out.”

  The car began to slow and pulled to the curb as Jodi gazed out of the window at her hotel, feeling strangely comforted by its familiar entrance arch and cobbled pavement.

  “Sure, whatever you think will work.” Jodi wasn’t too bothered by who was installed as assistant coach as long as Jason was in charge and they did what he said. She trusted his judgment. Gathering up her racket bags, Jodi slung her gym bag across her shoulders. “See you in the morning, coach man. Get some good sleep!” she said.

  “You too, champ. You deserve it.”

  Jodi thanked the driver who held the door open for her as she slid out of the car. “Good-night, Sid,” she called to him. “See you in the morning.”

  “Good-night, Jodi,” he replied, nodding to her as she headed into the hotel. “It’s great to have you back.”