by Bob Blanton
“Not really, but I’d like to know before school starts. I might be able to use it in a report or something.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll get to it in a week or so. How’s it going? You’ve got a new set of friends, it seems.”
“Jason and I have hit it off, at least I think so. I’m going to be going over to his house a couple of times a week to take tennis lessons.”
“I didn’t know you were interested in tennis.”
“I thought it might be fun. I’ve never asked about it before because lessons are so expensive, but Jason’s mom is going to teach me for free.”
“That’s nice of her, but it seems like a lot for her to do.”
“Jason says she’s happy to, especially if it means he’ll be playing more. She used to be a pro player.”
“I’m impressed. We’ll, I’m glad you’re going to do something else for fun. And having some other friends is good. Who was the girl who called?”
“That was Emily Stevenson. She was on the trip with us. You saw her at Palomar when we got home.”
“Yes, I remember her.”
“Hey, I’ve got to go, I’ve got a client with a messed up PC waiting on me,” Matthew said. He was uncomfortable talking with his mom about his new friends. He didn’t know why, but it felt weird. His client wasn’t really waiting on him. Matthew had just promised to get to the PC sometime over the holiday. But it was a good excuse to get out of a long Q&A session about his friends.
“I guess I’ll need to break my PC to get on your calendar,” his mother teased. “Don’t be late for dinner.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be home by six. And don’t forget about the translation.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll ask first thing Monday.”
. . .
Matthew woke early on Saturday. He was nervous about meeting Jason’s parents. He’d only seen Jason’s father at the airport. They lived in Fairbanks Ranch, one of the private enclaves in Rancho Santa Fe. Those houses went for a few million minimum and they must have one of the larger homes since they had a tennis court as well as a pool. Matthew was worried that he wouldn’t know how to act around them.
Matthew grabbed some breakfast, then rode his bike over to Jason’s house. The five-mile ride was a good warm-up before the lesson. He stopped at the gate to Fairbanks Ranch and gave the guard his name. The guard checked the list. Apparently, Jason had called ahead to let the guard know to let him in. The guard gave him directions to the house. As Matthew climbed the hill on his bike, he was amazed at how large some of the homes were. The houses were beautiful as well as big, many with a Tuscan theme to the house and estate; others were going for the antebellum south look.
He pulled up in front of Jason’s house. At least the numbers matched the ones Jason and the guard had given him. He went to the front door and knocked. Jason came running to the door to greet him.
“Hey Matt, come on in. Did you bring your swim trunks?”
“Sure thing, nice digs you got here,” Matthew gazed around the foyer. It was bigger than his bedroom.
Jason just shrugged his shoulders, “Yeah, it’s pretty nice. Come on in and I’ll give you a quick tour. To the right here is the formal living room.” Jason pointed to a room lavishly furnished in antiques.
“Isn’t that a Franz Marc over the fireplace?”
“Hey, that’s a pretty good eye you have. Most people don’t know his work that well.”
“I think his Blue Horses is the most beautiful painting ever.” Matthew walked over to examine the huge painting. “Is it an original?”
“Sure is, Dad’s parents are real collectors.”
“That’s neat. To be able to have real art by a master is so cool.”
“Well anyway, this room is just for show. Nobody uses it unless Dad has an important client over or something. Over here is the dining room. That’s a Winslow Homer over there.” Jason pointed to a huge painting of ships on a stormy sea hanging over the buffet. The dining table was long, made of walnut, and there were twelve high-backed chairs around it.
“That’s beautiful. My mom really likes his work.”
“He’s my dad’s favorite artist. This is the kitchen. We usually eat in here,” Jason pointed to a round oak table surrounded by five wide, comfortable looking chairs.
“Geez, is that the refrigerator?” Matthew walked over to the six-foot wall of polished metal.
“Yeah, it’s not that big. It’s shallow so it’s easy to get stuff in and out.”
“I’d guess so.”
“And here’s the family room. My folks usually watch TV here. Brea and I use the room downstairs.”
“Why? This has to be great with that huge flat screen TV, and the couches look totally comfortable.”
“The downstairs room is just as nice. Dad is even having one of the downstairs rooms remodeled into a media room. It’s going to be awesome when it’s done. But mainly we go downstairs because Hanna usually hangs out up here with Mom and Dad.”
Matthew gave Jason a blank stare, “Oh Hanna’s my little sister. She’s only five so she can be a real pain.”
“I know how that is. My sister Jessica’s the same age. She can be fun, but it takes a lot of energy to deal with her.”
“Dad’s office is over there and their bedroom is down that hall, and Hanna’s is across the hall from theirs. The maid has a room down the other hall over there. Eventually they’ll move Hanna down there. Brea and I have our bedrooms downstairs.”
Matthew followed Jason down the stairs into another family-style room almost the same as the one upstairs. “Over here is the game room. We’ve got a pool table, darts and a couple of arcade games.”
“Man, this is really cool. You don’t need to go anywhere for entertainment, it’s all right here.”
“It’s pretty nice, but it can get old after a while.”
“It wouldn’t for me. What’s this, a bar?”
“Yeah, that way Dad can entertain clients down here. And that’s a wine cellar over there.”
Matthew followed Jason’s look. The wine cellar was behind a glass door. It was temperature controlled and bigger than his bedroom, too. The walls were lined with bottles of wine. “You could have a serious party down here,” Matthew said.
“You could if Dad didn’t keep a record of every bottle of alcohol in the house.”
“Forget the alcohol. When you’ve got toys like this, who needs it?”
“I guess. The pool and tennis courts are back there,” he said pointing to the French doors leading to the patio in back of the house.
Jason’s mother came walking down the stairs. “Hi, you must be Matt,” she said offering her hand to Matthew. She was wearing a white tennis outfit and her light brown hair was tied back in a ponytail. Matthew thought she looked like a coed instead of Jason’s mother.
Matthew smiled and shook her hand. “It’s really nice of you to give me lessons, Mrs. Winthrop.”
Jason’s mom smiled at Matthew, “No problem Matt, and call me Cara. Like car, then ah. Mrs. Winthrop makes me feel old.”
“Okay, Cara.”
“Now let’s go out back and I’ll get you started. Did you bring a racquet or do you want to use one of ours?”
“I told him he could use my old one,” Jason said. “He won’t want to buy one until he gets a feel for the game.”
“That’s a great suggestion, Jason. I’m glad you thought of it,” Mrs. Winthrop said as she turned to Matthew. “After you’ve played for a few months, you’ll get a sense of what kind of racquet you like. And Jason’s old Prince will be a perfect one to start with.”
“Great,” was all Matthew could think to say.
“Now let’s go on down to the court. Jason, are you coming down with us?”
“No, I’ll just hang around up here until you’re finished. Then I’ll come down and hit a few balls with him. After that we’re in the pool.”
“OK, but I expect you to get Hanna ready for her party,” Mrs.
Winthrop said, “that way Matt and I can focus on his lesson. Come on, Matt,” she said and led the way out the French doors and down to the tennis court.
“Now, the first thing we need to learn is how to hold the racquet. You want to grip it this way,” she said showing him how to grip it.
She stepped behind Matthew and put her arms around him, grabbing the racquet over his hands. “Now you want to swing the racquet like this for a forehand shot, and like this for a back hand.” Matthew had a hard time concentrating, as he inhaled the light perfume she was wearing. With her breasts pressed against his back, he was struggling to keep his mind on the racquet.
“Now, do you have that?” she asked.
“I think so,” Matthew stuttered as he swallowed deeply.
“Okay, now I’m going to set up the machine to shoot some balls at you and we’ll work on hitting them back.”
They worked on his forehand for fifty returns then switched over to the backhand side.
“You’ve got strong wrists, Matt. That’s really good. You need strong wrists to play tennis.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Winthrop. I do special exercises for them for my martial arts.”
“Now, I told you to call me Cara,” Mrs. Winthrop said, scolding Matthew in a playful tone. “Okay?”
“Sure Mrs., oh I mean Cara.”
“Now let’s work on a little footwork, and that’ll be it for today’s lesson.”
Mrs. Winthrop took Matthew through some footwork drills.
“You need to really get the footwork down, that’s key to playing well. You need to get to the ball fast, but you also have to have your body and feet in position to hit it correctly,” she said. “I think your martial arts should help here, too.”
“Do you think so?”
“Yes, you’re quick on your feet and you’re getting the drills down right away.”
“Yeah, they’re just like some of the footwork drills we do for sparring.”
“Now, do you want to come back on Tuesday around 5:30 for your next lesson?”
“Sure, that’d be great, Cara,” Matthew blurted out.
“OK then, I’ll see you next Tuesday. You can work on the footwork drills until then, and don’t let Jason talk you into a game yet. Just practice hitting the ball back over the net for a while, okay?”
“No problem, and thanks again for the lesson,” Matthew said as Mrs. Winthrop headed back to the house.
Matthew watched her walk away. Her rear end had a nice shape and sway to it, he thought.
“Geez, scoping out your best friend’s mom, how sick can you get,” Matthew said to himself. But he continued to watch her closely as she went toward the house. He was totally focused on her as he watched her make her way inside the door, then up the stairs, around the corner and into her bedroom. She kicked her tennis shoes off and pulled her blouse off exposing her sports bra and strong shoulders. Her skin was a dark tan from many days beside the pool. She took the zipper to the tennis skirt in her hand. Matthew’s eyes locked on her hand as she slid the zipper down. As the skirt opened, it exposed a prominent birthmark on her left cheek. As she dropped the skirt to the floor, the last thing Matthew could remember seeing was the birthmark; it was shaped like Italy. His heart was racing as he stared ahead, but instead of Mrs. Winthrop, Matthew was staring at steps to the house. “Whoa, that was weird. I must have been daydreaming, boy I’m sick!”
“You are sick.” Jason called out as he walked onto the tennis court. Matthew had been so focused on his daydream that he hadn’t seen Jason come out of the house.
Matthew sat up straight and looked at Jason, “I was just talking to myself,” he said. “I’ve been doing too much daydreaming lately, that’s all. You have any problems getting Hanna dressed?” Matthew asked with a grin, hoping to change the subject.
“Oh shut up, like you never had to dress your little sister. Now get up and we’ll hit a few balls.”
“You’re the boss.”
“You’re left handed, so you can hit your forehand to my backhand. Try to hit it far to the left so I have to scramble to it.”
“OK,” Matthew walked to his side of the net. He hit a ball to Jason’s left. Jason scurried to the right and shot the ball back to Matthew’s left. The ball bounced perfectly so Matthew barely had to move to hit it. In the meantime, Jason had taken up position in the center of the court again. Matthew shot the ball to his left again. Jason again scrambled to it and returned it to almost the exact same spot as he re-centered himself in the court. Matthew returned the ball with more speed this time. The ball bounced far to Jason’s left and deeper. Jason was on it like a cat, backhanding the shot to Matthew. Again, the shot hit almost the exact same spot. Matthew barely had to move to hit it.
They went on like this for about twenty minutes then Jason stopped and walked to the net.
“Great, you’re really getting the hang of it. Now return to my forehand, and I’ll return to your backhand.”
Their play continued almost as before, Matthew striking the ball to Jason’s left, Jason chasing it down like a cat, and returning it right to Matthew. Again, Matthew barely had to move. After another twenty minutes, Jason stopped and came to the net again. He sounded a little winded.
“Well, that’s enough for today,” Jason said. “You’re getting those strokes down, and in a week or so, we’ll get you chasing the balls down. Let’s go shower and jump in the pool to cool off.”
They went into the cabana and changed into their swim trunks. They quickly rinsed off in the outdoor shower and then jumped right into the pool.
Matthew swam over and hung on the side of the pool next to Jason. “Jason, you’re pretty good at tennis,” Matthew said. “You were able to return every shot to almost the exact same place. Why don’t you play on the tennis team?”
“I played competitive tennis from the time I was six until last year. I got a little burned out. It’s way too much work.”
“How much work can it be? You’re already good.”
“You have to work out one to two hours a day just to stay in shape. Then you need to play another couple of hours to stay competitive.”
“I guess that does sound like a lot.”
“It is; I like to have fun when I play tennis.”
“Well, you wouldn’t have to work that hard to play on the school team,” Matthew said. “Wouldn’t it be fun to be the big shot on the tennis team?”
“Well, there’s more to life than tennis. Even the school team would require a lot of work.”
“But I bet you’re good enough to kill the guys on the tennis team!” cried Matthew.
“Sure I could, but why? I don’t need a scholarship for college. My old man’s loaded. And besides, I’ve got other things to do with my time.”
“Would it really take that much?”
“For me it would. When I do something, I do it right. And no matter how much time I put in; I could never build up enough stamina to make it through a fifth set. Somehow I missed that set of genes from Mom.”
“Oh.”
“And if I can’t have a banana split when I want to, what’s the point?”
“I guess that could get old.”
“Just face it,” Jason said as he lifted himself out of the pool and sat on the side, his feet dangling in the water. “I’m a country club player and I like it that way.”
“It’s your life, I just wondered.”
“By the way, we belong to the same country club that Emily’s family does. I see her playing there with Alex all the time.”
“You do?” Matthew perked up at the mention of Emily. He pushed back from the edge of the pool, standing on the bottom, the water up to his chest.
“When you get better, we’ll start playing over there,” Jason said. “It’ll give you a chance to see her. Maybe we can get them to play mixed doubles with us, Alex and me against you and Emily.”
“That sounds great. Do your parents care that you don’t want to play competitively anymore?”
Jason gathered his feet under him. “No, they got their nine years” he said, “the rest are mine,” and with that he jumped up and did a cannonball in front of Matthew. The water exploded into Matthew’s face, knocking him over.
The Pool Party
It had been four weeks since Matthew had started taking tennis lessons.
“How long does it take to figure this game out,” he thought as he set up for Jason’s serve.
Jason served the ball straight at Matthew. Matthew danced around the serve and returned it to Jason. Jason returned the ball to the left side of the court, forcing Matthew to race over for it. His footwork was good, and he was able to reach the ball quickly, returning it toward the center of Jason’s court. Matthew still had to aim for well inside the lines to avoid having the ball sail out of bounds. The occasions when he landed the ball just inside the lines were pure luck.
Jason returned the ball to Matthew’s right, forcing him to race to the other side of the court to get his backhand on it. Given Matthew’s limited command of the court, Jason barely had to move to get to Matthew’s shot. Jason seemed to hold back forever before he hit the ball. Matthew was already racing toward the other side of the court, anticipating that Jason would put it as far from him as possible. Jason hit the ball behind Matthew. Matthew turned and watched as it hit the right sideline.
“Game, set, match,” Jason yelled as he ran to the net.
Matthew walked over to meet him. “You’re wearing me out. I have to run five miles every time I play you.”
“It’s not that bad. I think you’re getting pretty good.”
“You think so? It seems like the ball is in slow motion on your side of the net, but when it gets to my side it’s in fast forward.”
“Yeah, it always starts out like that. Once you get better, your brain won’t be so overloaded thinking about everything.”
“I guess it’s just like my martial arts. When you first learn a form or a new move, it seems so complicated until the moves become automatic. Once you’ve practiced enough, you barely have to think to do the form.”
“That’s right, it all comes with practice.”
“I hope so.”