A few players had decided to make use of the good weather in Wimbledon and stick around as long as the grounds were available for the players. Soon, the whole site would be turned upside down to get it ready for the Olympic competition.
“Should we use another court?” Polly asked.
“No,” Bernadette threw in. “We need to get going. We are in the doubles final.”
Mr. Wilson nodded knowingly. “I will attend to the other courts first. No worries. You can play as long as you need to.”
Bernadette pulled Polly away and guided her to the baseline again.
“This is a conspiracy,” she hissed. “First that stupid German girl keeps us from practicing, now this old fool.”
Polly felt like protesting. “They are nice.”
Bernadette shook her head. “Oh, please. You don’t know human nature. Elise is a finicky, oversensitive little princess. Look what happened to Amanda since they’ve been together. She’s been demoted to Elise’s servant.”
Polly shook her head in astonishment. What the hell was going on in Bernadette’s mind? Elise and Amanda were the sweetest couple she knew. Yes, Amanda was very attentive, but Elise was terribly affectionate, too. They seemed to complement one another quite well.
It had to be all the pressure Bernadette put on herself. It sure had paid off in the last several weeks, and especially here in Wimbledon. Reaching the final was the ultimate test before the Olympic Games and with every match they played the better they became. But her doubles partner’s abnormal ambition had its dark sides, too. A quick look to the right told her that it was much more fun to practice mixed doubles with your girlfriend and two friends.
***
“Next year we have to play together again,” Elise purred into Amanda’s ear.
Amanda grinned. “Yes, I hate to see our title go to Bernadette.”
“Why does nobody like her?” Elise asked.
Amanda put her racquet bag on the chair and looked at her girlfriend. Checking that Angus and Christoph were not listening in, she leaned over to Elise.
“I heard a couple of stories that don’t really cast a positive light on her,” she murmured. “Even though I don’t know the details, but Monica doesn’t have one good word to say about her. As I understand the reason is mainly that Bernadette is jealous for not having the same success as Monica and her friends.”
Elise nodded but didn’t reply as the two guys approached them.
“Ready?” Angus asked. Amanda nodded. They were about to walk to the other side of the net, when Angus suddenly stopped.
“What is this?” he exclaimed. Then he bent over and reached out for Elise’s racquet bag.
Amanda swallowed hard as her Australian compatriot took out the wooden racquet.
“Do you carry that as a lucky charm?” he asked Elise.
Amanda looked at her girlfriend and nodded slightly.
“Yes, exactly,” Elise stammered, understanding Amanda’s gesture.
“I have a really old one from 1938,” Christoph threw in. He walked over to Angus and now the two guys were examining the racquet.
“You put a new overgrip on it?” Angus laughed. “Admit that you take a hit with it sometimes, don’t you?”
Elise grinned.
“We did the other day,” Amanda coughed, trying to save the day.
“May I?” Angus asked Elise. The German nodded awkwardly.
Swinging the heavy racquet carefully through the air, he walked to the baseline, followed closely by Amanda. What if the handle broke off? The screw had been really small. The racquet was probably unusable now.
“This is a great grip,” Angus mumbled, weighing the racquet in his hands. “So nice and sleek.”
“Careful, careful,” Amanda squealed, hurrying after him. “It’s really old.”
“I really love that grip,” Angus exclaimed.
Amanda frowned. He had taken hold of the mara handle and was swinging forehands and backhands with the racquet.
“Give me some balls,” he shouted to Christoph who dutifully hit a ball over the net.
Amanda winced when the old racquet touched the ball. Did she hear the wood moan? Was that a creak?
“Please, don’t hit it that hard.” She made a step towards Angus, reaching out her arms to hold him back.
“Amanda, don’t be such a killjoy,” he chuckled while clubbing the ball from one corner to the other. “This is so much fun.”
“Give it back,” Amanda yelled. She grabbed the wood racquet and pulled, but Angus wouldn’t let go. “It’s expensive.”
“How much did you pay for it?” Angus asked, lifting his arms so Amanda couldn’t reach the racquet.
“Quite a bit,” Amanda retorted. “Please, put it down.”
Angus hesitated, but then he smiled. “Alright.”
Amanda watched him walk to the back of the court with the racquet dangling in his hand. He swung it like a pistol but finally leaned it against the green fence. Amanda exhaled in relief.
“Can we play tennis now?” Elise shouted from the other side. She too had grown nervous as the guys were hitting balls.
“Yes, ladies, your wish is my command,” Angus grinned and sprinted to the baseline to join Amanda.
After a few rallies Amanda relaxed. Actually, this little intermezzo only showed that Elise’s camouflage worked. Angus had held a wooden prick in his hands, thinking it was a racquet handle. He didn’t even notice the weird shape at the end of the grip.
Thirty minutes later they sat down to drink some water. From Centre Court they could hear the first cheers for the women’s singles final.
“I want to see the final,” Elise muttered. “Can we skip practice and go over?” Gabriella was playing against Sasha Mrachova. This was bound to be a great match.
“Yes,” Angus added. “I want to see it, too.”
“Okay, let’s get moving. Get the old racquet, please,” Amanda said to Angus. The Australian dutifully ran to the corner while Amanda began packing their bags. When she had finished she looked up. Angus was standing next to her. His smile was suspiciously wide, his hands were empty.
Amanda stopped breathing.
“It’s gone,” Angus said.
***
Sasha Mrachova sat down in her chair and closed her eyes for a short moment. She needed to stay calm, stay positive. Let the thoughts come – and go. Come and go, Sasha thought. On the outside her emotional turmoil wasn’t visible. She sat upright on the chair, to the right of the umpire, and looked straight ahead.
But she wasn’t calm. In fact, there was nothing she would have liked to do more than run these stupid thoughts out of town with a good smack of her racquet. Go away, she screamed in her mind. Get the hell out!
Sasha had three minutes to catch her breath and gather herself, having just lost the first set of the Wimbledon final to Gabriella Galloway. The same procedure as every year. Only this year, Gabriella was playing for herself, not her sister. Gabriella playing for herself. Her sister not in the box. Was all of this a grand scheme to make Sasha lose her mind? After last year’s Wimbledon win the Galloways had stopped switching matches. They had begun to play for themselves.
Sasha remembered the moment after the final. She had gone back into the locker room to get her shoes – and had found Gabriella sitting there, still in delighted shock. I know your little secret. That’s what she had told the Galloway. In hindsight it had clearly been a mistake. The Galloways had reacted immediately, going clean and covering their swindle. Instead they had come up with a new plan – a revenge plan obviously. Not just to drive her insane over the question of who was whom in the Galloway mystery. Not just to break her nose. But to break her heart.
Sasha was known for her unbreakable will. Never would she let go of a match. She fought until the last point. But how much worth was your will when your heart was broken?
“Devilish,” she whispered into the towel she had put around her shoulders. It really was a diabolic plan.
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br /> Systematically, the twins had approached her – whether it was Lulu or Gabriella in Paris or Cincinnati didn’t matter – and made Sasha believe that one of them was in love with her, or at least interested in one way or another. Whenever she had opened up and had made a step towards them however, they had played games with her, leaving her in the dark after their first encounters, and eventually on the cold floor in Istanbul.
They had played cat and mouse with her heart and finally clawed it in Dubai when she was most vulnerable. How clever to slowly build Sasha’s confidence and self-esteem, making her more and more dependent on the twin’s soothing attention. So clever.
“Fuck you. Fuck you both,” she whispered, then she bit her lip. There were microphones everywhere on the court.
Calm. Let the thoughts come and go.
But it didn’t work. She had been tricked and deceived. How could she let go of that thought? It had taken her all the way to the final. She wanted this confrontation, she had anticipated this match with Gabriella. The plan, of course, had been to dispatch the Galloway twin in straight sets, even handing her a bagel or two.
But, now what? She had lost the first set 2-6. A terrible start to this final and not an ideal way to teach the traitor on the other side a lesson. Now she had to come back from a set down.
Sasha closed her eyes again.
She had done that before. Losing the first set and winning the next two. Usually not a problem for her. But right now she didn’t know if she could do it. All her anger which had got her through the quarterfinal and semifinal seemed to have subsided. How could she let someone deceive her like this? How could anybody do this to another person? Just because she had uncovered their secret? She hadn’t even told anybody, nor had she planned to do so.
“Time,” the chair umpire announced.
Sasha stayed in her chair for another second. Suddenly she seemed too faint to get up. She should have stayed in bed, Sasha thought. Actually, she should have stayed at home. In Prague. She should have never taken that taxi to the airport. If she had stayed at home with her family she would have had a wonderful breakfast every morning and could have played with her nieces every day.
Don’t try so hard, her dad had told her. But here she was again. In another final. But all this didn’t matter anymore. She looked up and slowly took the towel off her shoulders. Gabriella had gotten up as well and crossed to the other side. For a second their eyes met.
Was that a smile? Sasha frowned. Had Gabriella just smiled at her for a moment? She couldn’t tell as the Galloway had already passed her by and she only saw her back. Why did she smile just now? Sasha got up and walked to the baseline. Was Gabriella already anticipating another triumph over Sasha?
She really needed to get fired up now. She had to break the Galloway right away. Had to dictate play. She needed to use the anger. But when she got ready to receive Gabriella’s serve she was forced to realize that there was no anger inside her.
There was just her heart slowly pumping emptiness through her veins.
***
Monica scratched her head. This had to be the most lopsided Wimbledon final in a while, she thought. Well, perhaps even since her infamous Wimbledon final. How long ago that was!
She looked down onto the court again.
Sasha Mrachava hit a forehand into the corner but Gabriella was there and returned it down the line. Monica smiled proudly. Her doubles partner was on fire. She led 4-2 and was serving for a crucial lead.
Even though the scoreline suggested that Gabriella wasn’t as dominating as she had been in the first set, Monica disagreed silently. Her doubles partner had held serve easily in the second set, never having to face break points at all. Gabriella had even taken a 3-0 lead in the beginning with Sasha unable to get the ball in the court. The crowd had let out collective moans whenever the Czech had hit an unforced error into the net or outside the lines. It looked like this match would be over soon, and Gabriella wasn’t even playing at her highest level.
Sasha was broken easily in the beginning, and just when it looked like Gabriella would run away with the match Monica noticed a change. For the next several points Gabriella wasn’t going for winners anymore. She seemed to hit the ball right back to Sasha, into the middle of the court where the Czech could return it easily. Gabriella gifted the Czech some easy balls, so that Sasha held for 3-1. Then she threw in a poor service game with two easy errors. Suddenly it was 3-2 and they were back on serve.
Monica chuckled. It really looked like Gabriella wasn’t happy about Sasha’s poor play. Yes, she wanted to make it a contest – a real contest. Monica knew that a victory was even sweeter when the match had been tight. Gabriella had given Sasha a chance to step up and fight – but it seemed the short hiatus in Gabriella’s level only disturbed Sasha. The Czech couldn’t hold serve and not even Gabriella could help her this time. Three double faults later, the scoreboard said 4-2 for the American and with a fine backhand down the line Gabriella won the next game as well.
“Game, Miss Galloway,” the chair umpire announced, while the players walked back to their chairs for a one-minute changeover. “Miss Galloway leads five games to two and one set to love.”
Unless Sasha suddenly woke up from her big sleep this match was over.
Monica leaned back. She had taken a seat in the back of the stands under the shady roof. There were a few seats reserved for officials outside the Royal Box or the players’ boxes. As a former champion she was often recognized by tennis fans and usually didn’t mind giving autographs or engaging in a chat with the spectators. But today nobody had spoken to her so far. She was all the more surprised when a woman suddenly stood next to her. If you only took your seat now, at this point of the match, you may as well go home again.
“Can I get through?” an American voice asked, pointing to the seat next to Monica. Monica didn’t look up. Sometimes her countrymen and women were just plain annoying.
“These are reserved seats,” she let the woman know in her best British accent. “Your seat must be somewhere else.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” the woman hissed. “Move your ass!”
Shocked by the impudent outburst, Monica looked up and gasped.
“Lulu, for fuck’s sake,” she spat out. The Galloway twin waved her arms and Monica moved over and let Luella sit on her seat.
“Thank you very much,” the Galloway said.
Monica laughed. “Well, nice to see you here. I thought you were back in the States. How is your hand?”
“It’s alright,” Lulu muttered. Her hand was bandaged. “I didn’t fly back. I was here, of course.”
Of course? What could be more important than mending your injured hand as soon as possible? Monica watched her from the corner of her eye.
“Did you see all of Gabriella’s matches?” Monica asked quietly.
Lulu nodded, almost defiantly.
“I don’t care that she hates me,” she mumbled. “I’m still proud of her.”
Monica leaned forward and looked Luella in the eye. “Why would you say that she hates you?”
“She didn’t even call me after I got injured,” Luella replied. It looked like she swallowed down a few tears. “I know she is mad at me because she felt left out when I got all the attention because of that stupid Grand Slam.”
Monica didn’t say anything. When two people fell out after being so close together for such a long time, for each person the situation was of a different reality. Gabriella had cut off ties with her twin because she was guarding a secret she didn’t know how to share with her sister. Jealousy, however, could have played a part as well, and only this reality was graspable for Lulu.
Down on the court, Gabriella hit a dropshot. Sasha barely moved to get to it. The big green scoreboard in the corner of Centre Court switched. Gabriella had match point.
“She doesn’t hate you,” Monica finally said, watching Gabriella tossing the ball up to serve for the Championship. “She needs you more than ever.”
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Her last words almost drowned in the frenetic cheers of ten thousand tennis fans. With a blasting ace, Gabriella Galloway had won the 2012 Wimbledon Championship.
***
Was it better than last year? Gabriella held her breath and listened to her heart pounding. Did it beat faster today?
After a few seconds she took a deep breath again. Yes, it did feel better simply because her name had been announced and her name would be in the headlines of all newspapers. But the initial surprise, the realization of what she was capable of, would always belong to last year’s win. In the end it didn’t matter. For the second time in her career Gabriella sat in the Wimbledon locker room, having won the Championship. Luella would never know what that felt like.
Gabriella stood up and opened her locker. She had taken her time under the shower, as she knew what was to come – a press conference and photo shoot marathon for the next two days – just like last year. Tomorrow, after the guys’ final, they would all celebrate at the Wimbledon Winners Ball – the champions and the runners-up. Unlike last year, Gabriella was determined to have fun. Three facts would help tremendously. She had entered the Top 10. She had won her own Grand Slam. And there was a girl who loved her back.
Gabriella bit her lip thinking about the person she wanted to talk to more than anybody else at the moment. Sasha had looked a bit flustered during the match. More than once Gabriella couldn’t help it but give Sasha a radiant smile, until she noticed that it threw Sasha. Her poor lover couldn’t find the court if it had been triple the size. It was actually cute, Gabriella thought.
If everything went well Gabriella would soon make good for the tough loss she had bestowed on Sasha. She only needed to wait for a good moment to talk to the Czech.
Just when she had finished packing her bag and had taken a bite from a left-over nutrition bar, the door of the locker room was opened. Gabriella sighed. Probably someone from the tournament to pick her up and get her ready for the cameras. There was no getting away from these duties and she was sure that last year had only been a foretaste of what was to come. But one thing wouldn’t happen to her. She wouldn’t follow in her sister’s footsteps and get detached from reality. She wouldn’t let money rule her life. She’d simply focus on her tennis.
Love Game - Season 2012 Page 25