Definitely okay. It really is my mother’s plan.
I put my phone away until I had made it to the car that was waiting for me, the driver ready to take me to the airport. Parisa and my mother had flown out right after I lost, taking care of most of my luggage in the process. This whole travelling-light thing was starting to grow on me.
But is it political? Some kind of human rights thing? Gay rights?
That was my back-pocket excuse for not going, but I didn’t think it would fly with having played there often enough in recent years. It almost reminded me of another pressing conversation waiting for me when I made it back to the States.
Partly. I need more breaks, like the one we had in Mexico. No serious tennis for me until Indian Wells. You?
I was halfway to the airport before she replied.
I’m playing Qatar, then back for the Mexican Open. Let me know if you get bored with all that free time, I can probably score you some tickets.
The offer, and what it meant for us being back on good terms, was everything I’d wanted to hear. I’d hear about it from Parisa, and from my mother, but I was already mentally blocking out that week to travel down to Acapulco.
Might take you up on that.
I willed myself to switch the phone off, so as to not get dragged into another round of reading too much into her words. If I was going to get myself on track for retiring, the last thing I needed was a romantic distraction. Not that it would even get romantic, probably. Toni might not even be interested in that kind of thing; we’d only just cleared up she wasn’t dating Xavi.
I pulled the book I’d been getting lost in from my purse and read it the rest of the way to the airport.
“So you want me to ask Sean—who I broke up with three months ago, by the way—to sneak out confidential medical data on all the female players?”
Parisa stared at me over her Niçoise salad as she summarised what I’d just asked of her. I nodded in confirmation and she took a long sip of her Diet Coke.
“One of these days you’re going to ask me for a cool favour,” Parisa continued. “Like, ‘hey Parisa, my six friends and I are going to rob the Met Gala, but we need a lucky eighth person to smuggle the diamonds out. You in?’ And I’ll say, ‘Sure, Elin, it beats arranging your travel plans for Indian Wells. Why not?’”
“Are you done being dramatic? And okay, so you broke up. Are you telling me the poor guy isn’t still in love with you?”
Parisa raised an eyebrow at that, but she didn’t deny it. She picked at her salad a little longer, feet up on the desk in my home office. I sat behind it, like I had a real job or something.
“Fine. I’ll see what I can find out. But please don’t do anything that gives me a PR headache. Pass it off to someone actually affected. Nobody needs a white-saviour routine here.”
“Agreed.” I flipped the television on using the remote I didn’t entirely recognise. “Any idea where I can watch the Qatar matches?”
“Keeping an eye on Celeste? Or has someone else caught your attention? I see things, you know. Obvious things. Antonia-shaped things.”
“Not now, okay? Am I all done with signing and saying yes to stuff for today? I wanted to go catch Alice at the gallery before she disappears for the day.”
“Sure she wants to see you?” Parisa asked, and it was a fair question.
“She’s my sister,” I said with a shrug. “If I want to make things right with her, she’s just going to have to put up with it.”
“With an approach like that, I don’t see how it could go wrong,” Parisa replied, completely deadpan. “Take the nice car; Alice much prefers the convertible.”
“Thanks for the tip. You’ll text me when you hear something from Sean?”
“Already on the case.”
“This is why you’re the best, P.” I kissed her on the cheek as I grabbed my keys and headed out. We’d have to talk soon, about what my changed plans were going to mean for her and her career, but having already broken it to my mother, I was holding off on telling everyone else.
The sun was shining, and my car purred like a contented tiger as I backed it out of the gates, ready for the open road. Sure, Los Angeles traffic would have me crawling in no time, but for a moment it felt like I could just put my foot down and soar.
That kind of mood? No way would Alice hold out on me. We were as good as reconciled.
It took three hours to even get her to talk to me. She had clients in for a private viewing at the gallery, which I respected. Then when I returned after their appointment she had suddenly disappeared for ‘supplies.’ Only when I tracked her down to the coffee shop across the street did Alice finally relent.
“What is it, Elin? I’m in the middle of a busy day.”
“Yeah, ducking out mid-afternoon for a flat white screams ‘slammed.’”
“Oh, sit down. And shut up.”
I sat opposite her, the chair a little uneven beneath me. “Alice, listen—”
“If this is another round of excuses, save your breath,” Alice warned me. “I would never force anyone to come out, but your excuses are just that: excuses. You have all the support, money, and protection you could ever need. You won’t lose your job. So anything you do at this point is a choice.”
“You’re right.” It felt good to let that one finally drop. “I’ve been a coward. Most of my sponsors would still grab at the whole LGBTQ thing anyway, because it makes them look good. Maybe I’d skip a few smaller tournaments, like I’m doing right now. But ultimately, yes, Elin
