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The crowd cheered, and the sound seemed to fill Kai up like fuel. His smile was so damn beautiful, it could’ve broken my heart except that he was so happy.
“30-15,” the chair umpire said into the microphone.
Brad glared daggers at Kai, but Kai only chuckled and took his position for another serve. Now Brad didn’t know what to do—stand far back for another potential ace or be prepared to race the net for a wimpy underhand? Kai didn’t give him much time to decide. Without even bouncing the ball in preparation, he tossed it up in the air and slammed an ace.
“40-15.”
The crowd cheered wildly and so did I.
“That’s my son,” Antonia Solomon said over the noise, her smile wide and proud.
That’s my man…
After Kai left for Melbourne, I’d gone back to my little home in Paia and spent the first night alone, the light on and Keanu by my side. I’d watched every single one of Kai’s matches, but the fact that he was doing his best and winning and keeping his temper under control made me feel like a failure. Like I wasn’t upholding my end of a bargain to tame my own demons.
“Trauma is not something you can talk yourself out of,” Melanie had told me on the phone from Oahu when I went back to work. “It’s something you have to contend with on a day-to-day basis. Self-care doesn’t mean being selfish. What feels right for you is the only thing that matters.”
Do what feels right.
That had been my mantra, but it had become more and more apparent that staying in Paia instead of being with Kai didn’t feel right at all.
With Melanie’s blessing for more time off, I used some of the money Jason had given me and bought a plane ticket to Melbourne. Just me. I left Keanu in the responsible hands of my neighbor and embarked on a ten-hour flight into the unknown.
It was the right thing to do, I thought, watching Kai play under the brilliant Australian sun. I’d worry about the night later.
“Game, Solomon,” the empire said after Kai slammed another ace down Brad’s throat.
“One game down, eighteen to go.” Jason laughed nervously.
Kai was playing his best, but Brad Finn wasn’t ranked number four for nothing. Over the next hour, the two players battled ferociously. But the Australian crowd was firmly in Kai’s court, so to speak. Not only because he was their hometown hero, but because he was playing like the superstar he was. Kai peppered his plays with ’tweeners, no-look shots, and did a spinning jumpshot on a lob that had the crowd on its feet.
Kai was having the time of his life and that’s all that mattered to me.
The match wore on until finally the men were tied up, two sets apiece. The last set would determine the winner of the Australian Open.
I looked over at Jason whose hands were folded calmly in his lap while his leg was bouncing up and down.
“He’s got this,” I said, though Jason’s nervousness jumped from him to me like an electric current. “Right? I mean, he’s come this far.”
I looked over to see Antonia dabbing her eyes. “I’m so proud. No matter what happens, I’m so proud and I know his father would be too.”
The crowd quieted, and we watched as Kai, on the court right in front of us, crouch down, ready for Brad’s serve. Even in that moment, I couldn’t help but admire Kai’s physique—his long legs and his brown skin over muscles stretched taut and ready. How he flipped his racket around and around in his hand, waiting for the serve. And when it came, Kai sprang into action, shooting his right hand out for a forehand bounce that sent the ball back with a winner.
Brad fumed. And the more angry he got, the calmer Kai became. As if only one of them were allowed to be pissed off at the same time. Kai won the game, and Jason was practically jumping in his seat. Kai’s serve.
A ball boy brought Kai a towel; his shirt was clinging to him with sweat. While he wiped his face, the ball boy placed three balls on Kai’s outstretched racket. Kai examined them in a ritual I never fully understood, since all tennis balls look the same to me. He discarded one, put one in his pocket and bounced another. The serve clock was ticking down its 25 seconds and Kai wasn’t paying attention. It got to zero before he threw the ball up, and the umpire—a middle-aged woman with blond hair—leaned in her chair to the mic.
“Time delay and third violation, Solomon. Game penalty. The score is now one game apiece.”
The crowd erupted in boos and hisses. I stared, open-mouthed, as Kai argued with the umpire, gesturing at the timer.
“I just needed a towel,” I heard him say. “I don’t have time to towel off? It’s a bloody oven out here. We don’t have a big cozy umbrella to sit under like you, mate.”
“Shut up shut up shut up,” Jason muttered under his breath. “If the ump gets sick of Kai bitching at her, this is it. This is the game.”
“Kai won’t let that happen.”
“We can only hope. And umpires don’t like to insert themselves in important matches like this, but I don’t know this gal. She could have a short temper herself.”
