Love All

by Spangler, Rachel;

  No one objected, and she made a break for the side door, throwing a deliberately casual glance in Sadie’s direction to see if she would make any move to intercept her. She shouldn’t have bothered. As Des brushed past her wordlessly, Sadie remained fully ensconced between Tad and Hank, her attention clearly focused on what mattered most.

  Jay sighed and pushed through the door to the locker room without another look back. There was no need to stick around and see what came next. Sadie, Tad, and Hank would rally around Des, and her better angels whispered that that’s exactly how things should be. Des needed them more, and if it had been any other player on the other side of the equation, they’d be with Jay. By tomorrow, they’d all get back to work. At least that was the party line. She hoped if she kept repeating it often enough into enough microphones, it would become true.

  Still, a twinge of fear that needled its way up from her chest whispered that she knew better. There was no logic to winning and losing. Those two entities carried animal emotions that kept a person up at night, twisting and gnawing until reason faded to darkness. She did her best to quiet that voice with simple, silent refrains. This wasn’t like last time. Sadie wasn’t Katia. Everything was different now. But as the high of winning butted up against Sadie’s emotional withdrawal, the ensuing disconnect felt disconcertingly familiar.

  ★ ★ ★

  “Hey, you did great up there,” Sadie said. She threw an arm around Destiny’s waist and gave a little squeeze as Hank ushered them out of the pressroom. “You were gracious and concise and—”

  “A loveable loser.”

  “No.” Sadie pulled her tighter to her hip. “You were professional.”

  “A professional would’ve played better.”

  “No, your mom’s right,” Tad cut in. “You fought hard. You took one on the chin and squared up and faced it. That’s the epitome of professional.”

  “Come on.” Hank nudged them down the hallway past the locker room toward the exit. “You two wait by the players’ gate. Tad and I will get a car. Let’s go have a dinner, get some sleep, and shake it off before we go back to work tomorrow.”

  Destiny looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “Don’t you want to go over some film and tell me what I did wrong?”

  He shook his head. “You didn’t do much wrong today. Jay was right in her assessment. The ball skipped and skidded her way, but on any given day, that match could have spun in your favor.”

  Then, grabbing Tad by the arm, Hank steered him out onto the grounds, leaving Sadie with Destiny, who wasn’t buying the explanation he’d tried to sell her. “She moved me around the court like a puppet, and I let her. I had no control compared to her. I folded in the second set. It was like I didn’t even deserve to be on the court with her.”

  “Hush,” Sadie said, in the most soothing tone she could muster. “You’re always your harshest critic. You didn’t play poorly.”

  “She crushed me.”

  The shame in Destiny’s voice caused a vise to squeeze around Sadie’s heart. Not trusting herself to speak, she pressed her lips to Destiny’s bare shoulder, wishing she could kiss away the hurt the way she had back when the pain had come from a skinned knee or elbow. But how could she put a Band-Aid on such a strong, brave young woman who had been crushed in more ways than the scoreboard could show?

  “I know I’m going to lose,” Destiny continued. “I’m used to it by now, but everything was going too well for us all. We had some money, we had some endorsements, I was winning more, and even when I lost, the matches were either close or against a top-three player. Everything made sense, and Dad was here for the first time ever.”

  Sadie nodded at the confirmation that losing in front of Tad added to the anguish. Even strong, powerful young women wanted to impress their fathers. Still, she got the feeling Destiny wasn’t done venting yet, so she held her tongue.

  “And it’s Wimbledon, you know? I just felt like if I could make it here, it would finally be real. I could finally stop worrying about whether or not I really belonged at this level.”

  “You do!” Sadie said emphatically. “You’re a French Open champion.”

  “Only with Jay by my side, and I think we saw today which one of us is the better player.”

  Sadie pursed her lips as Destiny peeled back the final layer to reveal Jay at the heart of all her seemingly disproportionate turmoil. It wasn’t just a loss. It was a loss to the woman she’d felt dependent on. Jay was the one person left that could be credited with Destiny’s successes, and of course that bothered someone as independent as Destiny. She had clearly wanted to prove to everyone— and more importantly to herself— that she was Jay’s equal, if not her better. Instead, the matchup had confirmed her worst insecurities.

  What could Sadie say now? No platitude would convince someone so concretely competitive that anything but the final score mattered. If she wouldn’t listen to such logic from Hank or even Jay herself, there was no way Sadie could change her mind. And still, standing by helplessly while her daughter suffered was never an option. She pulled her into a full hug, wrapping her arms tightly around Destiny’s body, until the muscles relaxed into her own, and she bore some fraction of the burden weighing on her daughter. But no sooner had Destiny folded her frame into the embrace than a door opened behind them and hurried footsteps skidded to a stop.

  “Oh, sorry,” Jay muttered, causing Destiny to jerk up to full height, rigid and tense once more.

  “You’re fine,” Des said quickly, her expression hard and her voice flat.

  “I can go back in.” Jay shuffled back toward the door that had closed behind her.

  “No,” Destiny said, “we’re leaving.”

  “Cool,” Jay said, too quickly to be comfortable. Then, looking quickly from Des to Sadie, a thousand unspoken questions filling her eyes, she said, “Me too.”

  The vise grip around Sadie’s heart tightened painfully as the three of them stood in a triangle of awkwardness. Jay was so perfectly golden, eyes bright, skin flushed, the ends of her hair still damp from the shower. She looked every bit the part of the victor, and that stirred something proud and powerfully possessive in Sadie. But those emotions were tempered by a protective instinct that ran deeper. Amplified by the tension radiating off Destiny, that baser imperative held her captive.

  How could she reconcile what they both needed from her, or the feelings they inspired in her? She needed to be gracious and soothing and fair and loving to both of them; she wanted that more than anything. But everything she thought to say put one of them above the other. Finally, swallowing hard, she managed to choke out a quiet, “Good match, Jay.”

  Instead of sounding like a compliment, the words came out strangled and clipped. Jay’s lips parted as if she needed extra air to take the blow, but she forced a smile that hurt worse than a frown. “Thanks.”

  The silence stretched between them once more as Sadie wordlessly pleaded for Jay to understand. If only she could explain, if only she could tell her what she knew about her daughter in this moment, about the crushing blow to her sense of self and the insecurities it had exposed, about how none of this was about a tennis score, but she couldn’t say so in front of Destiny. Even if Destiny hadn’t been there, how could she explain the most intangible aspects of motherhood to someone who had never felt another human being walk away with half their heart beat?

  “I think I’ll catch a cab on my own,” Jay finally said, “let you guys have some family time tonight.”

  Destiny didn’t argue with this break from their normal routine, but the clamp around Sadie’s heart felt more like a knife now. Family time. Hadn’t it been just a few days ago when that term would have included Jay? She still wanted it to. No tennis match could ever change that. The tug-of-war taking place inside her shifted slightly toward Jay’s side.

  “Actually, I just want to have dinner in.” Destiny turned to Sadie, her caramel eyes soft and pleading.

  “Of course.” Sadie patted th
e clammy skin of her bare shoulder.

  “Do you think Hank and Dad would mind if we just had some girl time?”

  We? Sadie’s heart struggled to break the grip that held it so tightly.

  Destiny shrugged with her best attempt at casualness, then relenting, nodded. “Please?”

  “Of course.” Sadie said, without so much as looking at Jay. The pain and divide hadn’t disappeared, but Destiny needed her, and only her. She didn’t revert to work mode and seek out Hank. She hadn’t reached for her dad. She wanted Sadie. “Whatever you want.”

  The corners of Destiny’s mouth twitched up only slightly, but it was the first hint of a smile Sadie’d seen in hours. “I want to eat pizza in bed and watch The Wiz until I fall asleep.”

  Sadie beamed, and the final tightness in her chest shattered. Finally, something she knew how to do. The medicine she’d doled out so many times throughout the years was needed once more, and she was elated to be in a position to administer it once more. “That can definitely be arranged.”

  Destiny’s grin widened, then faltered again as she looked past Sadie once more to Jay. “See you tomorrow.”

  Sadie turned to see that, as Destiny’s smile had grown, what was left of Jay’s had faded. The urge to reach out to her was swift and strong as she felt herself dragged back over the chasm of roiled emotions, but before she had a chance to even lift a hand, Jay straightened her shoulders and stepped back.

  “You guys have fun,” Jay croaked, her voice thick and scratchy. “I’ll see you later.”

  Then she fled, not quite at a sprint, but close enough that Sadie didn’t dare attempt to follow. Everything she had to say to Jay couldn’t be said here. All she could do was have faith in Jay to understand, and try to have faith in her own ability to make it up to her. The former came easily. Sadly, she felt much less certain about the latter.

  ★ ★ ★

  Jay lay awake, alone in the room she was supposed to share with Sadie. She watched the gray light as shadows from the street below danced across the ceiling. They seemed to sway to a song she couldn’t hear over the refrain of doubts echoing through her brain. She’d heard the chorus a thousand times already, but still it pounded onward, rising, falling, and looping back around to start again, like some demented version of “It’s a Small World After All.” Only this rendition wasn’t sung in the happy array of international voices. It came on the whispers of her past and in a language she understood all too well.

  This time was not like before, though. Despite the swell of emotions that had surged in her when Sadie had barely been able to compliment her win today, she understood that it wasn’t her success Sadie resented. In that moment, Sadie’d barely been able to see her through Destiny’s pain. Jay had spent hours trying to understand what that must have felt like for a mother to witness, and to some small extent she did. She cared about Destiny, too, and what’s more, she loved Sadie. Seeing them hurt for any reason caused her to hurt, too. In that sense, all their reactions had been reasonable, understandable, even logical.

  What wasn’t logical were Jay’s feelings about what had caused the pain in the first place, namely, herself. No matter how many times she told herself she’d done the right thing by playing her best, she couldn’t escape the fact that she was responsible for the turmoil she’d seen in Sadie’s beautiful features. She couldn’t stop envisioning the way her forehead had furrowed when Jay had taken the lead. Sadie had been rooting for Des. They hadn’t talked about it, but deep down she’d always known that. Des was still young, and even when she grew older, Sadie wouldn’t lose those protective instincts.

  It had stung when her compassionate gaze had focused on Des to Jay’s exclusion during the press conference, when she could easily have encompassed them both, but it made sense that Sadie would put her attention where it was needed most. Worse still was the way her beautiful smile had flattened into a tight line when Sadie tried to force herself to even speak to her before they parted ways, and yet Jay had spent hours justifying the tension because Destiny was there, and she had obviously interrupted a personal moment. The emotions of the match had still been raw, she told herself over and over, but the one question she couldn’t brush away was that if everything really was all right, why hadn’t Sadie come back yet?

  The clock on the bedside table flashed 12:44. She rolled over and tried not to let her mind wander down any dark alleyways, but the longer she tangled the sheets alone, the harder Sadie’s absence became to justify. Destiny had lost before. Hell, she’d lost a lot, and while that always made her mad, she had usually wanted to be alone. Why hadn’t she sent Sadie away yet? Or maybe she had, and did Sadie want to be alone too? Or maybe Sadie didn’t mind company, like Des or Tad, but didn’t want to see Jay.

  That was ultimately the fear that had kept Jay awake long after her muscles had given out. What if Sadie’s withdrawal wasn’t about Des, so much as it was about her? What if the tension she’d heard in Sadie’s voice actually had been anger, and she’d been trying to argue away the truth for hours? What if Sadie loved her winning only if that winning also served to help further Destiny’s career rather than hinder it?

  Sadie’s own voice echoed from the night Jay had first told her about Katia. If she’d loved you the way you loved her, she would’ve been happy for you, no matter who you were beating.

  Her breath came in raspy, shallow gulps, and she sat up, trying to use gravity to pull more oxygen into her lungs, but as she rose, so did memories of Katia’s resentment. The punishments for winning had always involved both an emotional and physical withdrawal. She knew better than to think Sadie capable of such a calculated and cold response, or at least she thought she did, but what would happen if her career took off again and Des’s didn’t? Des was Sadie’s top priority, and she’d made it clear that anything that stood in their way would be held at a distance. Hadn’t that been Tad’s sin, after all? He’d only wanted to be a small part of their circle, and still Sadie held him at bay. And at least Tad had never been much of a bother. He’d never stood in their way. Sadie had said her love for Tad suffered in comparison to her love for Des. Had she come to the same conclusion about Jay?

  She covered her face and screamed into her hands as, once again, Katia’s memory grabbed hold of her faith and shook it violently, until she no longer knew what was real and what had been conjured by ghosts.

  Springing from bed now, she paced the room, frantic for any interaction, but everywhere she looked, she saw only reminders of Sadie. Her well-worn flannel pajama-pants sat neatly folded atop her suitcase. A brush that had stolen a few dark strands of hair lay beside the clock. Jay couldn’t even escape the reminders of her in the bathroom, where Sadie’s purple toothbrush stood upright in a hotel coffee mug. She stared at it longingly as an idea started to form.

  Hank’s earlier warning about not poking the bear played through her mind, but she heard it now about as well as she had then, and for the same reasons. She wanted desperately to be close to Sadie, and if that led to some sort of backlash, then she’d face it head-on.

  Grabbing the toothbrush and a few of the other reminders that ripped at her heart, she padded down the hallway barefoot until she reached the only room she really wanted to enter. Before she thought it through, she knocked lightly, then again with only a little more force, certainly not loud enough to be heard over the jackhammering of her heart. Maybe that’s why she didn’t hear anyone approaching on the other side of the door until Sadie opened it.

  As soon as they saw each other, the air left both their lungs in a united rush. They stood frozen and staring for long seconds before Jay held up the pile of items in her arms as a panicky peace offering. “I brought pajamas, and a toothbrush, and a bottle of some, um, lotiony stuff from the bathroom because you might need it if you’re not coming back.” The last part caused her voice to crack, and she struggled to swallow the emotion behind the break. “I mean, if you’re sleeping in here.”

  Sadie’s surprise melted into a
n expression of pure, unadulterated love as the lines in her forehead melted away and her smile crinkled the corners of her eyes, but before she could speak Destiny called, “Who is it?”

  “Jay brought over my pajamas so we could have a slumber party,” Sadie said. “Go back to sleep.”

  “That’s nice,” Des mumbled, and Jay heard the sheet rustling as Sadie stepped into the hallway, leaving the door behind her open only a crack.

  “Sorry to wake her up,” Jay muttered, feeling silly and bashful all of a sudden.

  “Don’t apologize. Once she falls asleep, she sleeps harder than any person I know, and it was a taxing day. She’ll be dead to the world again in two seconds flat.”

  Jay nodded, reassured. “I just thought, well, maybe I worried a little bit that you weren’t going to come back to our room tonight.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out. I know Des needs you, and I don’t begrudge her that, but when you didn’t come back, I started to worry that you were mad at me for winning, and . . . well, you know, that felt like, sort of like—”

  “Katia,” Sadie finished for her.

  She shrugged, even more embarrassed now, but Sadie cupped her face in her hands, and gently tugged her closer. “Listen to me. Today was hard on all of us, but I am not mad at you. I am happy for you.”

  “But you’re sad for Des.”

  “I am,” Sadie admitted with a sigh, “and as hard as it is to feel both those things at once, it’s even harder to show them. You’re right. Tonight I had to go where I was needed more.”

  “I know. I don’t ever want to come between you two. I care about Des, too,” Jay said in a rush.

  Sadie pulled her down and kissed her forehead. “I know you do. You’re wonderful, which is why it breaks my heart that you thought for even a moment that I would love you less because of some tennis match.”