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What’s your downtime like? Have you been enjoying the sights Melbourne has to offer?
‘Yes, I have been to the Melbourne Zoo and a few restaurants around town. Little things. Obviously, I am here to play a tournament, and I am serious about my tennis, but I am happy to experience Melbourne. Last question, please?’
The press conference comes to an end with little issue. As Victor and I make our way back to the player’s room to meet up with Papa and Noah, I feel my right knee grab.
Stopping, I attempt to stretch it out.
‘You okay?’ Victor asks.
‘Feels weird,’ I mutter. I probably should have spent more time cooling down instead of jumping straight into media, but I like getting it out of the way. ‘It’s fine.’
Papa and Noah have our gear ready to go outside the player’s room, but as I lean down to grab my tennis bag, I feel somethingpop.
I’m falling before I can stop myself and faceplant into the cold cement floor. Fire shoots up my leg and into my spine, like someone’s just kicked me in the kneecap.
‘Someone get a medic,’ Victor cries, his voice echoing through the hall.
‘Where’s the pain?’ Papa says, and I try my best to pinpoint it, gasping, ‘My knee,’ between clenched teeth.
‘ACL?’ Victor asks over Papa’s shoulder. ‘Yes, we need a medicright now.’
I take in deep breaths as the pain subsides. Noah’s behind me, holding my head off the cement floor. ‘I felt something like a pop, and then just . . . pain.’
A medic comes running with a first-aid kit and two icepacks. Another comes soon after with a wheelchair. Papa wraps both icepacks around my knee, curving the frozen gel against the joint, and then I’m hauled into the wheelchair.
That’s it. I’m done. Tournament over. I won’t realise any grand dream of making it to the final or holding the cup. I’ve just played the best match of my career and hurt my knee walking out of a press conference.
‘Noah,’ I say, grabbing his hand, but I can’t seem to say anything else. Can’t tell him that I’ve seen this play out before with Phoebe; can’t tell him that it looks bleak at best, and career-ending at worst. ‘Don’t go.’
‘I won’t,’ he says. ‘Promise.’
‘It’s going to be all right,’ Papa says. ‘Don’t get worked up. We’ll manage this.’
Victor arranges for a doctor to meet us at the apartment, and I suffer through yet another ice bath—this time, medically recommended. Noah sits beside me on the cold bathroom floor, his hand holding mine. At least this time, we don’t have to pretend to be just friends in front of Papa and Victor.
‘I can’t imagine the pain you’re in right now,’ Noah says.
‘Take my mind off it.’ Just in case Noah gets the wrong idea, I add, ‘Tell me what you want to do after the tournament is over. Where do you want to go?’
‘Go?’ Noah echoes. ‘Where would we go?’
‘On holiday. I want to book somewhere nice and hot. Somewhere where we can lie on the beach all day if we want to.’
‘That sounds lovely,’ he says, pressing his cheek against the lip of the bath. The hand that isn’t holding mine pushes around a little chunk of ice in the water. ‘Well, first, I want to buy a book at the airport. It feels like you’re going on holiday if you buy a book at the airport. Then, we’d have a coffee in the café—or if we’re flying in the afternoon, we’d get a beer—and we’d complain about how overpriced it is and how we can’t believe that we bought it. They’d call our flight. We’d board. You’d hold my hand as we took off because it’s my first flight ever. You’d give me the window seat.’
‘Where are we going?’ I ask.
‘Somewhere by the sea but close by because I don’t have a passport. Somewhere with palm trees and long stretches of coastline. We’d find a shady spot and call it ours; we’d go there every day to swim and lie down. That’s where I’ll read the book. On the second day it’ll rain because no holiday is perfect, and we’ll get breakfast in bed and resolve to stay in there all day. But you can’t do that. You get restless around three in the afternoon and by some coincidence, the rain lets up. We go for a walk around the hotel grounds and find a little trail that leads to a waterfall. It’s secluded and the water’s clear. I convince you to go for a swim. At first, you’re not sure but then I take off my clothes—’
‘I like where this is going.’ Though I’m far too cold and in way too much pain to do anything about it.
‘I take off my clothes and jump in the pool beneath the waterfall. We swim until sunset. No one disturbs us. It’s perfect. We barely get back to the hotel before the sun sets, worried we’ll trip over something in the dark. After we shower, we go to dinner. We’re both ravenous. You order a lobster because I haven’t had lobster before—’
‘I don’t like lobster.’
‘A steak then.’ He huffs out a laugh. ‘You order a steak. It’s amazing. We go to bed and sleep in until eight the next morning. The sun is shining. You’re full of energy and somehow, it’s infectious. You ask me to play tennis with you and, like a fool, I accept.’
I laugh and it hurts my ribs. ‘Would not be much of a match.’
