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NoAgenda:I’m sorry Gabriel, your dad’s right. Idon’t want to distract you.
‘What?!’
‘I did it for you, Gabriel!’ Papa says as we step into the apartment. ‘Each time the play reset, you glanced at the player’s box; even Percy commented on it. This guy is a magnet. It is not worth the distraction.’
Fear prickles up my spine. Was I really that transparent?
‘He’s not a distraction; he’s myfriend,’ I shoot back. ‘You know, thingsnormalpeople have.’
‘You are not normal, Gabriel,’ Papa counters. ‘You areexceptional, and every moment that you do not focus on what you can achieve is a moment that is wasted.’
He sounds so much like the voice in my head—the voice that makes me feel bad about things I really want to do—and it’s overwhelming.
Victor stays quiet. I wish he would speak up. I wish he would say something; tell Papa how unreasonable he’s being.
I wish he was on my side.
‘I don’t want to be exceptional!’ I cry. My stomach feels like it’s in my throat and every word is an effort to get out. ‘I want to have a life. Every day it’s the same; get up, train, play. I can’t stand it. I can’t standyou.’
There’s a quiet rage in papa’s eyes. ‘I have done everything for you, Gabriel.’
‘And I’ve spent years trying to live up to your expectations and I ammiserable,’ I reply. ‘I’m a twenty-five-year-old man! I have no friends unless you approve of them. I’ve barely had a drink or a relationship, and I can’t evenfuckingswear without being told off.’
‘You’re here to do a job. I don’t want you to jeopardise your career over—’
‘Whatcareer?’ I cut him off. ‘I’m past my best years! If it hasn’t happened yet, it probably won’tever.’
‘Gabi,’ Victor says from the kitchen. He must recognise the comment from the presser earlier. ‘Don’t let them get in your head.’
I ignore him, too riled up to care.
‘I’m no one outside of tennis, and that is your fault,’ I tell Papa. The fury I’ve swallowed down for so long is coming up my throat, and I feel like I might vomit. ‘You robbed me of my childhood with your blind ambition. You forced your dreams onto me and ensured I had nothing else to fall back on. Now I am nothing unless I’m on the court. I’mno oneunless I win.’
‘Gabriel,’ Papa replies sternly. It’s a warning. He wants to bully me back into obedience.
This is just a tantrum to him. Unacceptable behaviour which he must meet with discipline.
I look at Victor, searching for support, but he turns away.
They don’t understand. Worst of all, they won’t try to understand. My prize money makes this lifestyle possible, and they don’t want the cash cow to complain.
Turning back to my father, I meet his hard gaze. ‘You have failed as my coach and as my father,’ I say coldly. ‘I’m not a child anymore and I won’t be treated as one.’
Then, I push past Victor and wrench open the apartment door. Papa calls my name, his booming voice echoing down the hall, but I don’t stop. I don’t know where I’m going, but I know I’m not staying here.
14
Noah
It’s early in the afternoon when I get home from the tennis. Sadie bounds down the hallway, her claws tapping on the polished floorboards. Margie must still be at work.
After Bernard told me, in no uncertain terms, to fuck off and leave his son alone, I’d taken my bruised ego home.
We’re here for one reason, he’d said in the claustrophobic tunnels of Evonne Goolagong Arena after the match.Gabriel cannot afford a distraction.
It’s clear Bernard is not a man to be messed with. As much as I’d like to say I stood up for myself, the truth is I crumbled faster than an inner-city Victorian terrace, and fled Melbourne Park with my tail between my legs.
I have no idea where this leaves Gabriel and me—but I have no interest in getting between him and his father. Fuck, I’ve dealt with one shitty dad; I’m not about to add another to my list.
