Page 80 of Risky Match
“I memorized it. It said, ‘You should appreciate the good people who are trying to help you. Their jobs should be secure.’”
“That’s weird and a little creepy.” She briefly shudders, wrapping her arms around herself.
“That’s what I thought. I started wondering if someone on my team was the one sending the emails. I have a large team when you also count the people who don’t travel with me. It could have been any of them. I didn’t know whether to confront each one or ignore the email. Ultimately, I decided to wait. I assumed more emails would arrive if the sender had more to say.”
“Did you try to trace the emails?”
“No. I was in a tough spot. Noah checked and couldn’t figure it out. I didn’t know who else could help. The emails weren’t threatening, so I let it drop. The only problem was it left me not really knowing if I could trust anyone on my team. As a result, I started shutting down and keeping more to myself.”
“I’m guessing that was lonely and frustrating.” Concern clouds her features as she reaches to stroke my arm.
She has no idea how right she is. I place my hand over hers and let her warmth and support flow through me as I admit, “It was. I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m sharing these things but being poisoned was a wake-up call. It made me reflect on how and when my grumpiness emerged in full force. I’m convinced it began when doubts crept in about my team. Before that, I was stressed at the thought of never winning Wimbledon, but I wasn’t miserable and didn’t lash out at others.”
Her eyes flicker with understanding. “How awful. A tennis player’s team is like their family. It would be crushing not to be able to trust your family.”
“It has been. Add to that the panic attacks I told you about, and it’s been a lot.”
I haven’t told anyone that it was also terrifying to know that I couldn’t trust anyone. I lived in fear that there was some even more sinister plan that I didn’t know about.
“You didn’t say when the first panic attack happened.”
“In early March, I started having nightmares about being an old tennis player still struggling to win Wimbledon while the fans and commentators pitied me. I’d wake up drained and sweating after the dreams. Not long after, I had what I thought was a heart attack.”
“So you’ve been dealing with this issue for several months now, right?”
“Yes. Apparently, the initial panic attack was triggered by the struggles with my team combined with the increased pressure as Wimbledon drew near.”
“I would’ve panicked waiting to see if another attack occurred.”
“Exactly. They assured me the attacks aren’t life-threatening. That helped. But after the second attack, I hired Natalie.”
“Who else knows what you’ve been going through?”
“Only Josh and Natalie know about the panic attacks. At least, I hope they haven’t told anyone else. As we discussed, it could cause me problems if it became publicly known.”
“I won’t tell anyone, but there’s nothing to be ashamed about. Panic attacks are more common than you realize. In fact, at some point you may want to share your situation. You could help others know it’s okay to get help.”
“I’m not ashamed, and I would like to help others at some point. I’m not there yet. Hopefully, I will be in the near future. I’m still struggling myself. I fear my opponents would see me as weak. Even worse, the press would comment on my mental health and inability to win.”
“You aren’t weak, and the press should be ashamed of themselves if they did that. However, I understand your feelings about the press. You don’t trust them nor would I.”
“Thanks for your support. I shared all this hoping that it would help you understand that nothing I said or did was about you. I’ve been fighting myself and trying to figure out how to move forward. I’ve accepted that I won’t win men’s singles this year, and I haven’t had a panic attack. I’m making progress. I’m also ready to play doubles with you tomorrow if you’ll still have me as your partner.”
“It means the world to me that you’ve taken me into your confidence. It helps me understand. You’ve been dealing with so much. The problems with Noah and the panic attacks were plenty. But you’ve also received strange emails, are working with a new coach, are suspicious about the rest of your team, and now you’ve been poisoned. With all you’ve been through, the last thing I can ask of you is to play tennis tomorrow. There’s no need. Your health and mental well-being come first. I’ll be fine.”
“Natalie says playing will help me work through my fears. And, even more important, your dream will continue. It will be best for both of us.”
“Are you only doing this because Natalie is forcing you to?” she asks, her face scrunched.
I’d thought she would be jubilant, not guarded, and certainly not challenging my motivation. I take a moment to consider my thoughts.
“That’s an unexpected question. Before now, I hadn’t parsed my feelings that precisely. Natalie did help me reach the decision. But no, she’s not forcing me. I’m offering to play because I want to. Do you?”
Her face relaxes into an easy smile as she nods and enthusiastically says, “Yes.”
“Excellent. Dare I ask you to consider forgiving me?”
“Probably. Let’s see how things go.” There’s a hint of teasing in her voice that’s reassuring.
