Doubles Love by Ali Dean

Doubles Love by Ali Dean

Author:Ali Dean [Dean, Ali]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-11-11T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter 6

6AM on Sunday morning is happy hour for the senior tennis population. I feel out of place without white hair and wrinkles, as I roll a basket of balls out to one of the few empty courts. They watch me curiously, smiling in approval at my dedication. But I’m not here because I’m a shining example of athletic discipline. I’m here because the little yellow fabric balls offer me exactly what I need. They are simple and reliable, essential to the game, but with no stake in its outcome. They depend on me as much as I depend on them, which is completely and not at all; we’re here for each other, but we can survive alone.

I toss one into the air, and hit a warm-up serve. My muscles are sluggish to wake up, but I throw a few more serves, refusing to jog around the court or otherwise separate myself from my racket and the balls in order to do a proper warmup.

I’m halfway through the bucket of tennis balls, wishing I had someone to play against, or at least a machine shooting balls at me, since serving one after the next isn’t fast enough, when a friendly voice calls out to me.

“Mackenzie Bell! What are you doing here so early?”

Sasha Turner opens the gate to my court, and lets herself in. She’s got on her signature white Nike hat, and one of many stylish tennis outfits.

“Hey Sasha, any chance you want to rally with me for a bit?”

“I was hoping you’d ask that.” Sasha was one of the top players in the world in her prime, and she and her husband are now the head coaches on my club team. We don’t have official practices with the club during high school season, but, occasionally, I’ll get to play with her one-on-one on days like today, when there’s no high school practice.

Sasha must sense I’m not in a chatty mood because she gets right to it, rallying back and forth for an hour before ramping it up to an impromptu match. She’s the best female player around, and the only one who consistently beats me.

Today, I’m throwing everything into each shot, playing with abandon. Typically, I’m more of a defensive player, letting my opponent set the tone and responding accordingly. I tend to prefer it that way, but today I can’t hold back. I slam one hard shot after the other, sprinting around the court like a madwoman when Sasha gains an upper hand. I’m playing with a newfound aggression that I didn’t know I had in me.

Sasha ends up taking the set 7-5, but she doesn’t hold back the praise. “That wasn’t anything like the way you played yesterday,” she comments.

“You were there? I didn’t see you.”

“You know I like to swing by, and check out my players. I only caught a game or two of yours. You weren’t even paying attention.”

We roll the basket of tennis balls up toward the clubhouse together.

“Yeah, I didn’t have to. With you, I can’t get away with that.



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