Page 71 of Best Year Ever
Tessa’s behavior doesn’t improve on court. She complains about every close line call that doesn’t go her way, which of course is amplified by boos from the crowd. She has a snit when a ball girl doesn’t throw her a ball she wanted. And she ignores me at every possible interaction, from pre-match to on the court, as if I’m not worth her time.
While I should be immune to the dramatics, I fall further out of my flow with her behavior disrupting the normal patterns of a match.
Put all of these factors into the soup and what comes out is a loss. I lose in straight sets. 6-2, 6-3. I fail at my first finals, aftereverything.
No, no, no.This wasn’t supposed to be the end of my Wimbledon story, I hear an angry voice say in my head.
But chest heavy and heart hurting, I cannot pretend it is anything else as I shake hands with Tessa.
Pain is not the only thing I feel. Part of me is angry too. As I take my chair to wait for the award ceremony, I give myself a chance to breathe, throwing a towel over my head so no one can see me. I won’t cry, I tell myself.
Slowly, very slowly, I get myself a little more centered. I try to talk to myself the way that Julie would. This isn’t a failure. This is your best result at a Slam yet. You have so much more ahead of you.
Finally, I feel a little more grounded emotionally, and pull the towel off my head. I peer up at Julie and Dad, and they are sending me looks of reassurance (Julie) and love (Dad). That heals my heart a fraction more.
But it still hurts. Badly. One of the hardest parts is that I have to spend the next hour pushing through the awards ceremony and the post-match press conference. So using every drop of fortitude I have, I will myself through them, with my best plastic smile. Knowing that I can collapse as soon as I survive these duties.
I come out of the presser with my team waiting, shielding me as we hustle to a private car.
Three hours later, we’re on a plane. I’ve never wanted to be home more.
The first person I call once I’m in my seat on the plane—Landon.
CHAPTER 25
Landon
Ishut off the TV when they start interviewing Tessa, and a few things strike me.
I don’t love that I wasn’t there for Rori’s semifinal match. The biggest win of her career, and I missed it. It felt wrong not to be there for the celebration.
I really don’t love that I wasn’t there for today’s finals match. A hard loss for her to swallow, from the pain on her face as I watched on TV. It feelsverywrong not to be there to help her through it in-person.
A few hours later, she calls me from her burner as they arrive at Heathrow to fly back. I do what I can to console her, but it doesn’t feel like enough.
“Hey,” I say softly when I pick up.
“Hey, is it okay to talk?” she asks. “I wanted to hear your voice for a minute, and we’re about to take off.”
“Yes, of course. I’m—fuck, I’m sorry Rori. I’ve been there.”
She sighs. “This sucks. I didn’t—I don’t even know what happened.”
“Sometimes you don’t have answers for what’s happening on the field, on the court,” I say, remembering some tough losses that felt incomprehensible at the time.
“Yeah, I definitely have no answers right now,” she replies.
I give her space to keep talking, staying silent.
“Julie’s helping though. She keeps saying how it’s my first final of a Grand Slam, what a big deal that is. And it is, I mean I’m so proud of that. Plus I won six of my seven matches.” Her voice is still a little pained, but I also can hear that the positive reframing of her Wimbledon is resonating with the pride seeping through.
“That’s right, and the fact is, we both know—you come back stronger from tough losses. The next final you’ll be that much more prepared.”
She mumbles something to someone and then speaks into the phone again. “What still makes me angry at myself is that I was so out of it mentally. I one hundred percent know better. I was distracted, I let myself get psyched out, I didn’t level up even though I knew I needed to when I hit the court, sick or not. I knew exactly what Tessa was doing with her mind games too.”
I know she probably needs to get this all out, so I don’t interrupt as she keeps going. “It’d be one thing if I had an actual injury. But that can’t ever happen again. Getting pulled out of a match that important, mentally. Being distracted.”
Once she seems to have spoken it all out, I jump in. “Here’s the thing, Rori. Next time, you won’t allow it. You’ll know better, so you’ll do better. I believe it.”
