Six

AS SOON AS I GOT OUT of the arena and we headed back to our room, I started texting Lissa and Melody to tell them what had happened during the morning. It was so cool. I knew Melody was still in class, but I expected a response from Lissa. It didn’t come for quite a while. Then...

“I’m so sick. Boys are running around like crazy. Jack and I are taking turns puking in the bathroom. Wish I was there. Congrats.”

I was going crazy. It was just coming up noon on the coast and I waited till it struck before I dialed Melody.

I told her I was worried about Lissa and the boys and what she had texted me. Melody said not to worry and to focus on my tournament. She’d take care of everything.

“Melody, I love you both like crazy, you know that don’t you?”

“I know it, darling. But remember, this is your big week. Don’t let anything here spoil it. We’ll manage; I’ll make sure of it. Don’t bother Lissa until you hear from me. She doesn’t need to be running to the phone if she’s heaving in the john.”

“I know, Meddy. I miss you.”

“Miss you, too, lover. Have fun in the windy city. Hey! Open a window; maybe you’ll get a blow job!” I groaned and we finally let each other get off the phone.

When I finally got off the phone, Allison was standing next to the door tapping her foot. We’d changed into street clothes for the dinner tonight and I was expecting to just veg until then. She told me to grab my sports coat and get going.

“Where?” I asked.

“Claude Cahun,” she answered.

“Another competitor?”

“In a manner of speaking. Been dead a few years, though. Let’s go.”

I’m not all that into photography, but when Allison told the cab driver to take us to the Art Institute of Chicago, I knew I was in heaven. I got so lost in the exhibits—hauling Allison around by the hand and explaining the different styles and techniques—that it was six and we had to rush to the convention center hotel for dinner. What a great way to pull the pegs out from under my nervousness over the match tomorrow.

I met so many people! A lot more of them knew me, simply because they watched Karl’s and my challenge match this morning. It seemed that even more had watched the YouTube video that was posted. Guys were coming up to meet me and I’d swear they were sizing me up. There were over 350 competitors, their coaches, the referees, and the staff at the banquet. Yuri Gedov was the speaker. He dominated the international scene three years ago and was one of the movers and shakers trying to get racquetball recognized as an Olympic sport. A little hard to understand, but no worse than Bychkova’s Art History class.

A number of people left early and I assumed they were the ones with nine o’clock matches in the morning. Mine wasn’t until eleven, so I could sleep in, get a leisurely breakfast, and probably be bouncing on my toes by seven. By the time Gedov’s presentation was over, I was bouncing in my seat and Allison grabbed my hand and dragged me out of there.

I called Melody before bed and she filled me in on the condition of each of our sick loved ones. The boys had been deemed too healthy to stay in the same house as Jack and Lissa. Melody and Kate picked them up after their last class and took them back to Lissa’s house.

“Kate’s been a life saver,” Melody gushed. “I don’t think I could have done it alone. The boys are in bed asleep now and Molly will be here before we have to go to class tomorrow morning.”

“That’s great. But Lissa’s still at Jack’s?”

“She was in as bad shape this morning as the boys were Saturday night. Don’t worry, love. They are both too sick to cheat on us.”

“Melody, I wasn’t thinking...”

“Of course you were, silly. So was I. I just want her here with me. Instead, she’s protecting all of us by staying in quarantine until she’s passed the contagious stage,” Melody sighed.

“I do wish you were both here with me,” I said.

“Instead of Allison?” Melody teased.

“Melody. I’m in competition, remember?”

“Yeah. I just hope I get there while you are still playing. I can’t wait.”

“Me either.”

“Speaking of which...” Melody said. “It’s a big lonely house and both Kate and I are used to sleeping with a roommate, so I thought, if it was okay, that we might...”

“You want to sleep with Kate?” I asked. Shit! So do I.

“Not actually with her. Just in the same bed. Do you mind?”

“Honey, you know how I feel about Kate. You are free to bring her on board.”

“Oh, it won’t be that.” Melody lowered her voice, perhaps afraid that Kate would hear her. “I don’t think Kate would sleep with any of us without the others.”

“I think I know what you mean, Melody. Treat her well. We’ll all be together again soon.”

The national singles competition is a seeded tournament. The first match in each division is between the top player in the country and the last player who made it into the playoffs. When, as in this case, there were seventeen players out of sixty-four who had fewer than thirty points and were there by virtue of having played in a qualifying tournament—like me—there is a drawing to determine the order of the last seventeen places. I was fourteenth. At least I didn’t have to face Karl Higgendorfer in his ‘warmup’ match. Been there. Done that.

I was in the second flight of competitors. Eight courts were used for men’s singles, Division A. Four courts had Division B in them. Periodically, women’s matches would also be played. Then there was Open Division and Pro Division. It would be five tonight before the second round began.

I got a call from Mom and Dad just as we were entering the arena. They wanted to know what court I was on and let me know they were there and had seats, but didn’t know if they were where they should be. I checked the schedule and confirmed that they were in front of the court I was to play on in a couple hours.

When I came out of the locker room, Allison was waiting for me. She took my music player and changed the playlist.

“Lissa says she loaded this playlist for your first match. She wants you to listen to the first song and then you can put it on random or go straight through it or skip things as you wish.” I nodded and started listening to the music while I stretched and warmed up.

I wasn’t familiar with the piece, but it had a nice Latin rhythm. Just listening to it made me want to sway my hips. I looked at the title but it was in Spanish. I signaled to Allison.

“Do you speak Spanish,” I asked, pulling the headset away from my ears.

“Two years in high school. Why?”

“What’s this mean?” I pointed to the title of the song: “Besame mucho.”

Allison leaned in and listened from one side of my headset and grinned.

“Cesaria Evora. I prefer Andre Bocelli, but I can see why Lissa chose this one. It’s much more primal.”

“Yeah, but what’s it mean?”