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‘Well, I suppose I better stay.’
‘Excellent,’ Margie says. ‘Oh, I’m glad I got a little more than I needed. You know, something told me, “Margaret, get a few more”, and I thought, well, I better do just that, and golly, I’m glad I did.’ She pushes me out of the kitchen. ‘Help Gabriel set up the barbeque, will you, Noah?’
15
Gabriel
The sun’s setting over the city in whorls of crimson and gold by the time I get back to the apartment. I’d spent the evening in Margie’s backyard, cooking lamb chops, playing with the dog and kicking an old soccer ball with Noah. My knees are grass-stained, my ankles are itchy from bug bites, and there’s dirt under my fingernails, but I don’t care. For once, my heart and mind feel full.
And now I have to face my father.
As the Uber drops me off at the hotel, I prepare myself. In almost a decade of professional tennis, I’ve never spoken to my father like I did earlier, and I don’t know what to expect. The blow-up’s so bad, it’s got back toMamanand Claudia back in Paris.
QuelleClaudia:I’ve heard you fought with Papa.
Hungrygabriel73:He started it.
I consider callingMaman, but as I check the time on my phone, I realise she’d be starting work. It’s not easy keeping up with each other when I change time zones every few weeks, but I desperately want her advice on how to mend things with Papa.
This isn’t the first time we’ve had a fight on tour, but we’ve never blown up at each other during a tournament.
Digging my key card out of my wallet, I step into the apartment, expecting the worst, but to my surprise, it’s quiet. Dark. Victor is smoking on the balcony, his cigarette almost burnt down to the filter.
He turns at the sound of the sliding door opening.
‘Oh, Gabriel!’ He sounds surprised to see me. ‘You’re back.’
‘Where’s Papa?’ I ask, closing the door behind me.
‘At the gym. He’s been there for a few hours now.’ Victor stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray. ‘I think he’s thinking things over in the sauna.’
Maybe I should go down and speak to him there. Apologise. Try to make him see things from my perspective.
‘Gabriel.’ Victor pulls me from my thoughts. ‘Noah’s a nice guy, and it’s clear he cares about you a lot. Whatever you’re doing, I trust you’ll make the right decisions for you. Not for your father. Not for me.’
‘I’m gay, Victor.’
The words spill out before I can stop myself. As soon as I say them, I don’t know why I feared saying them before. It doesn’t feel scary or wrong. They’re just words.
Immediately, though, I realise that it wasn’t the words I was afraid of—it was the response. Victor’s response. He pauses a moment, as if he’s trying to figure out if he heard me correctly.
‘I, um—’ he fumbles, reaching down for the packet of cigarettes and lighting another. He inhales deeply, the end glowing, and then lets out a long, smoky breath. ‘Well,okay.’
‘Okay?’ My voice shakes. ‘That’s all you’re going to say?’ Suddenly, I’m crumbling. ‘I tell you I’m gay and you just sayokay? I feel like I’ve been carrying thisweightwith me for years and I—’
The words stop. The tears start.
Victor places his cigarette in the ashtray and pulls me into his arms.
‘Come here, sweet boy,’ he says in that same comforting tone I remember from my childhood; the same voice that picked me up off the court when I fell; the same voice that soothed me after a hard loss. I wrap my arms around Victor and cry into his shoulder, unable to stop myself, unable to dam the emotions that gush forth.
‘Gabi,’ he says, pulling back from me. His thumbs wipe away the tears on my face and he smells of the menthols he smokes, and aftershave, and home. ‘You are so loved. I had no idea this was something that weighed so heavily on you. I’m sorry.’
‘I just—’ The words don’t come. Truthfully, I don’t know what to say. Victor smooths his hands over my hair, my face.
‘You haven’t told your father?’
I shake my head. Maybe that was why I flew off the handle today. Papa wasn’t just rejecting Noah; he was rejectingme. ‘I’m worried he’ll take it badly.’
