Page 31 of Best Year Ever
“Already done,” he reassures me, likely anticipating that I wasn’t going to let that topic skate by.
I sit down in the aisle seat on the opposite side of their row. I notice that Julie looks at my dad and then at me before glancing at her phone.
“I’m going to return a call really quick since it’ll be a fewminutes before we’re cleared to take off,” she says, walking down several rows toward the back of the plane.
“So sweetheart,” Dad says, “How’re you feeling? You look a little tired.”
The last thing I’m going to do is admit why I’m tired to him.
“It was a rough sleep last night,” I say to deflect his comment. “But I’ll settle in once we get to Texas. I’m good at switching time zones for tournaments. It’s coming back to Florida where my body crashes.”
“I know. All that adrenaline,” he says, nodding his head.
A moment passes while we’re both quiet. I can hear Julie mumbling on her phone call amid the hum of the plane’s air conditioning system.
“I do want to talk to you about something, Rori,” Dad says as he turns his body to face me fully.
“You’ve grown so much in the last two years, starting with the maturity and willpower it took to come back from your injury. And now you’re going full speed ahead on the tour, as well as with your off-court activities and appearances. You bought your house. You turn twenty-one in October. My little girl’s an adult. I can hardly believe it.”
He sighs at that thought and then continues. “You have such amazing things ahead, and I want to let you make decisions without your dad hanging over you. It’s made me rethink where I am in my own life. My priorities.”
“Dad,” I interject. “You’ve sacrificed so much juggling your career and being my father, supporting my tennis. You can never be around too much, but I also want you to be happy and fulfilled for yourself.”
While I’m surprised Dad is having this conversation at this exact moment, it’s long overdue. He really has given up his own life for mine for far too long.
“You make me happy. You make me fulfilled,” he says. “Having said that, I’ve made some decisions. I’m going to sell the house, sweetheart. With four bedrooms, it’s far too big for justme. I know we have lots of memories there, so I want to make sure you’re okay with it.”
Oh wow. This is the house we moved into a couple of years after Mom passed. We settled in right as I started to get more serious with my tennis. So much happened over the last ten years while that house was our home base.
Still, at 2800 square feet, it’s way too large for my dad. I get that.
“Oh Dad, it’s sad to think about, and I maybe need a minute to process,” I say after another few seconds pass. “But I understand wanting to live how and where you want.”
I see his shoulders get less tense at my response. “Thank you,” Dad says, breathing a sigh of relief. “Julie mentioned that there are lots of condos available in her community. I think I’m going to check it out.”
“Okay,” I say, my mind still digesting the news.
And he’s not done. “The other thing, Rori,” he hesitates as if finding his words. “The other thing is how would you feel if I don’t come on the tour as much? Just come for the Slams?”
This is an easier topic for me. I smile and put my hand on his arm. “Dad, totally, that’s okay. I have Julie and all my friends on the circuit. I’m good.”
He nods, relaxing his posture. “I thought you might be okay with that part.”
“You’re always welcome at any event, to stay with me wherever I am, Dad. Words cannot express how grateful I am for you,” I say as I stand up and reach over the aisle to hug him. “Love you.”
He hugs me back. “Love you, Rori,” he says.
Julie walks back toward us as we separate from the hug.
“Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” she says.
The Austin tournament goes well, and I win three matches before losing in the finals. I absolutely love this town, so Maggiejoins me for a night out before we have to fly to Mexico for the next tour spot.
“Yeeehaw, I do love all the cowboys,” Maggie says, giggling as we walk into a bar, taking in the scene.
We order only seltzer water once we reach the bartender, but we’re giddy to be out for a night on the town like normal twenty-somethings. Maggie’s old enough to drink, just being good.
“You’re as likely to bump into musicians here in Austin,” I tell her, laughing.
