“Be careful in there,” Parisa warned as we approached the press room. “Leave the drug stuff for Celeste and Toni if it comes up, okay?”
“But—”
“There’s a difference between taking the first shot to protect your friends and speaking over them when they deserve to be heard. Stand by them every step of the way, I know you will, but don’t be that white lady who hogs the spotlight on it. Stick to the Sarah debacle and anything else you can think of.”
Parisa was right, as always. I took up my spot at the table, far more microphones and recorders on it that time. We were at the business end of the tournament, after all.
I got a softball question from the BBC woman about how disappointed I was to go out at this stage, and it was a chance to get warmed up.
“Obviously I would rather be in the final,” I wrapped up. “But Keiko played a smart match and deserves to be there. Depending on the other semi-final result, I might even be cheering her on.”
There. That would both inflame and confuse the gossipmongers.
Ulrika popped up again. “With word from the GTA being that they may consider a ban for Sarah Harrow, do you support that decision?”
Shit, I hadn’t heard about that. I had been in kind of a cocoon since the match, though, doing the absolute minimum of activities that were outside of a hotel room.
“Well, the rules are clear, I think. I’m not sure we should be adding special penalties on top of that. We didn’t, for example, when Jürgen threw his racquet in the Australian Open a while back and it hit a line judge.”
Ulrika persisted, as she always did. “So you think there’s a problem in women’s tennis? You’ve already mentioned the drug testing.”
“Yes, any organisation should be investigated if found to not be applying their own rules or acting in ways that are wrong. When it comes to Sarah’s case, I don’t know her. But I know the tour is a lot of pressure when you’re young, and we as a sport have to provide the support for all players. Not just physical but mental health too.”
Wow, I had never talked so much in a conference. It was like I’d traded jobs and become Prime Minister of Sweden for the day. What next, was I going to raise taxes?
The rest of the questions were familiar ground—was I going to play in Miami, was I looking ahead to the French Open? I handled them all with my customary short answers and left the room quite untroubled.
Toni joined me on the loser’s bench that evening. While she wasn’t quite so happy on arrival, I was pleased to discover she liked to process her feelings about a loss with just as much enthusiasm as for a win, maybe even more so.
I was quickly getting used to her staying over. So much so that I didn’t panic when the loud knock at the door came in the morning. I pulled the sheets up higher, reaching to reassure her, but that side of the bed was empty. A moment later, I heard the running water and grumbled the whole way to the door that I could have been joining her in the shower again instead. Checking before taking the door off the chain, I wasn’t entirely surprised to see my mother. I decided to let her in, but not without complaining a little.
“Mamma, I booked us separate rooms this time for a reason,” I said, but she brushed past me without a care, ready for the day in another spotless navy blue tracksuit, her short hair pinned back and her sunglasses pushed up on top of her head. I felt a sudden rush of love for her in that moment, even though she was clearly there to complain about something I’d done. She really had devoted so much of her life to helping me have all this. Despite our usual distance, I followed her in my fluffy robe and pulled her into a hug.
“Yes, you might very well cling to me,” she said, patting my arm absently. “I’ve just been told that before you start at Miami on Tuesday, the GTA want to call you in for a meeting.”
“Va’ fan!” It was my turn to curse, and my mother only nodded instead of correcting me. I let her go and started to pace. “What are they pissed about? That I protected a kid from Sarah Harrow? I won’t apologise for that.”
“Oh, I’m sure they’re going to bring something about that to be a problem for you, but no, the main issue is that you are, and I quote, ‘bringing the women’s game into disrepute.’”
For a horrifying moment I thought she meant my fling with Toni, just started though it was. I felt the same sickening dizziness I always did when confronted with the prospect of blatant homophobia, but then I realised that couldn’t be it, no matter how paranoid I got.
“The drug testing? They’re saying I’m slandering the association? I deliberately didn’t say more in the last press conference.”
“You still made reference to it, about applying the rules. And you already claimed they’re racist or deliberately fixing results, when they say it’s all blind and fair and objective.”
I began to pace. “If they’re so sure of that, why do they want to shut me up? See, this is why I had to be the one to do it. This sort of quiet intimidation would make someone less protected back down. Well, they can screw their tap on the wrist. I’m not going.”
“Elin, come on,” my mother warned, helping herself to an apple from the bowl on the table. “What does a meeting cost? They’ll come to Miami to meet with you.”
“And I won’t be available.” I pulled my phone from
