Page 21 of The Tomboy

And I couldn’t stop wondering what kissing Max would be like.

But that was ridiculous.

Kissing Max—or anybody—was not on my radar. Or it shouldn’t be.

Tennis was all that mattered!

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Iwoke up on the couch, still dressed in my denim shorts and t-shirt, a pillow under my head and a fleecy blanket over me. From the sliver of light through the thin drapes, I ascertained it was morning, and I’d been there all night. Enveloped in silence, I embraced the moment, realizing that the first week in River Valley had taken its toll. Sleeping for over twelve hours was a reminder that I had to pace myself.

Lifting the blanket off of me, my shoulders tensed. Paddling involved a different set of muscles from tennis. I tentatively raised my arms above my head and groaned. I should have known not to go so fast...why had I? A tiny voice in my head wondered if I’d been trying to impress Max, but I swiped that thought away like a buzzing mosquito.

Padding my way to the bathroom, I stood under the paltry stream of water, reminiscing about the wonderful hot shower at the Country Club. Even the school shower had better water pressure than this.

“Ah, there she is,” Dad said when I emerged in my bathrobe. “I didn’t like to wake you. You went out like a light.”

“Guess I was pretty wiped out.”

“Hmmm, an understatement.” Dad said. “How about I take you out for breakfast? You must be starving?"

“Where? The Country Club?” I teased.

“I was thinking more about The Rusty Barn Diner, out by the factory. I drive by it every day and it kind of makes me want to stop.”

“Rusty Barn?” I scrunched up my face. It didn’t sound the most appealing.

“Yeah, it looks like an old rusty barn,” Dad laughed, “but I hear they do great breakfast burritos.”

“I was hoping to train today,” I said with an apologetic wince. I didn’t want to turn Dad down, but I had to do some form of work out.

“Tay, you were dead last night,” Dad said, not hiding his strong disapproval.

“But our first match is on Tuesday,” I countered back.

Dad tutted in frustration. “Well, after we eat, we could go for a walk. Down by the river?”

I pondered for a moment, shifting my arm to feel the ache in my shoulders. “A fast walk?”

Dad rolled his eyes. “It’s one thing to train, another to overtrain. I don’t want you doing too much.”

“But you know what Mom would say,When you’re not training, someone else will be.”

Dad stepped closer and put his hands on my shoulders. I was no longer his little girl, my growth spurt meant he wasn’t much taller than me, only a couple of inches, so I was practically eye to eye with him. But his blue eyes, a mirror of my own, cast across my face like a shadow. With an ominous sense that a lecture was looming, I tilted my head, ready to challenge him.

But Dad’s sigh was soft and unexpected tears welled and trickled down his cheeks. “Taylor, I wish Mom was here. I wish she was here for you.” He released me to wipe at his face, sniffing up a sob, and then took me in a fierce hug, squeezing me so close that my breathing was stifled. “But it’s just you and me now baby, just the two of us.” His voice cracked as his bristly jaw rubbed against my cheek, sharp and scratchy. “I’m sorry, Tay. I’m all you have now, and I know it’s hard to listen to me. I know I don’t know as much about tennis as Mom did, but I’m gonna learn and do my best.” His tears were sliding downmy cheeks.“I promise I’ll do my best.”

And there, right then and there, I knew what Dad was trying to tell me:I had to listen to him, trust in him, have faith in him.

This was it. Me and him. Him and me.

Just the two of us.

It was bone chilling—those moments when you grasp that your Mom is never coming back, that you’re never going to see her again.That unfathomable permanent separation.The realization that she will never watch you play another game of tennis, or braid your hair, or see you off to college. Usually grief came in waves, caught you unawares, but now the enormity of the situation hit me like a tsunami—we were here in this new town, at this fancy school, following a plan Mom had set in motion.

But Mom wasn’t here.

Dad and I were left to make it happen. Together.

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