Page 12 of From the Courtroom to the Court
"I'm leaving practice, it was exhausting," Stella continues while Leah listens to the sound of her footsteps in the background. "I finally perfected the Tweener"—a shot where the player hits the ball between their own legs—"I've been practicing it for weeks."
"I want to see it," Leah asks her.
Stella bursts out laughing, knowing that next to her girlfriend, she's nothing but a novice, and Leah excels at these types of plays, not only executing them but anticipating them to return the shot.
"Maybe we can play together when we see each other," Stella replies. "By the way, I am playing in the local tournament after all, Chris—her coach—says it will give me some extra points. Will you come?"
Leah frowns.
"I've been the one traveling the last three times," the ex-tennis player complains.
When Stella left Charleston because Christian Roberts agreed to coach her as long as she moved to Tennessee, they both agreed that they would alternate trips. Once Stella, once Leah, but lately it's been the latter who has had to get on a plane to visit her girlfriend.
"I know, honey," Stella answers sweetly, "but you know the championship is coming up, I can't move around as much as I'd like. I promise that when all this pressure is over, you and I will go on vacation, and I'll also be able to spend more time in Charleston."
Leah sighs. She understands her, of course she does. When she was at that point as a professional tennis player, she barely had time for outings with friends, sharing with her mothers, or even having a girlfriend. She married tennis from a very young age, and when she turned professional, her life was being on a court. Stella wants to go far, she's thirty, she's well-known, she's won some championships, and she still has several to win. Unlike Leah, she doesn't want to retire so soon; she wants to try to go as far as she can, and that takes a lot of sweat.
"Why don't you come after the tournament?" Leah asks with a glimmer of hope. She wants to see her but doesn't want to get on a plane again so soon.
"Chris has booked me a cabin in Knoxville," Stella replies. "I've been under a lot of stress and I've been losing focus on very basic plays."
Retreats, Leah thinks. It's the typical getaway that a high-competition athlete does when they need to refocus. The idea is to do absolutely nothing for a few days except reconnect with the mind. Phones and technology are set aside. Leah recalls those long mountain walks when her brain collapsed after months of pressure.
"So besides flying to Tennessee, I won't be able to be with you more than two days?"
Stella mutters something unintelligible and clears her throat.
"Leah, you more than anyone should understand me," she says with a tone of slight anger. "You know very well what it costs to reach the top positions: the effort, the fatigue, the stress, and above all, the loneliness. I'd love to be able to come see you instead of you having to come, but this is my current situation and I can't—nor want to—change it."
The tennis player remains quiet for a moment thinking about her words, and the fact is that her girlfriend is right, much as it bothers her to be the one who, most of the time, has to travel across the country to support her in tournaments or see her for at least a few days. Her skin prickles and the dry sound of the ball hitting the court, the roar of the crowd, and the sweat on her forehead crosses her mind. How she misses those moments when her world was just the ball and a racket.
"I'll try to arrange it," she finally responds and softens her voice. "I want to see you destroy that spoiled Angelica Durán, so you better strengthen that backhand."
Though she can't see her, Stella smiles. Leah always supports her, even when certain things are difficult.
"Talk later?" asks the younger of the two.
"Call me when you go to bed," Leah requests and says goodbye to her girlfriend.
When the call ends, the club owner stares at her yard. It's immense, larger than the house itself, because Leah bought it precisely for that land that seemed wonderful to her. There she has a court, her own, where she rallies when she feels like it, remembering her moments of glory. She thinks about her life, her career, and Stella. She likes her, loves her; however, she's clear that what they have is temporary. They've been together for a while because it works well for both of them; in fact, their relationship hasn't broken because the younger one left Charleston, and that distance made what they had flourish. They see each other a couple of times a month, talk several times a week, and each has her own space. Stella is too young for Leah, and they both have different future plans; the only thing that unites them is their passion for tennis, and for them—for now—that's more than enough.
She returns to the house and sees her mothers talking about something in a confidential tone. Natalie smiles and Anne winks at her. Leah would love to have a relationship like theirs, which, despite the adversities they may have experienced, today finds them more in love than ever, so much so that they often look like two teenagers who have just met.
"Everything okay?" Anne asks when she notices her daughter's presence.
Leah nods and smiles.
"Stella sends her regards," she says and sits at the table.
"How is she?" asks Anne, who gets along better with her. Natalie believes she isn't good enough for her daughter.
"Training," says Leah with a grimace. "You know how it goes."
Natalie wants to say nothing, but that's how she is, and if she stays quiet, she might explode into a thousand pieces.
"I don't understand why you're still with that girl, Leah," she blurts out, and Anne shakes her head at her wife's imprudent comment. "Don't get me wrong, Stella is a great person, but she's not for you."
Leah lets out a sigh.
