Page 47 of A Follow-Through in Faking

Catalina

I’ve lost the first set.

I’m losing the second set four games to zero.

All Frederica needs is to win two more games, and the title is hers.

It’s a good thing I have my emotions under control, otherwise, I’d be bawling my eyes out on the court right now. I’m frustrated with myself. The way I’m playing? I don’t deserve the title. I don’t deserve to become number one. I don’t deserve—

“Catalina,” I hear my older sister call out as I wipe my face on the towel. “You have nothing left to lose. Take risks. Play the lines. Forget what’s at stake. This is for fun,” she says, and it takes another piece of strength to keep the tears at bay because that’s exactly what Mamá would tell me.

She’d urge me to forget everything and rediscover why I fell in love with the sport in the first place.

I fell in love because it made me feel happy.

It brought me the kind of joy I had never found in anything else, and losing was never meant to take that joy away.

Mamá always told me there is beauty in losing, too, in learning from your mistakes so you can be better next time.

And yet, the words that come out of my mouth are, “ No puedo .”

“ Sí , Catalina. Tú puedes. Puedes hacer todas las cosas que quieres ,” my father says with his thick English accent butchering the words, and the tears finally spill into my eyes.

“You got this!” Sami chimes in.

“We believe in you, Lina,” Hernanda adds.

“The score doesn’t matter. Focus on every point,” Charlie reminds me.

“You can do it,” Ness calls out.

“ Vamos , Catalina,” Sage cheers.

“You are the best, Cata. You don’t have to win for that to be true, but you will anyway,” Santi says, but I have no time to linger.

Breaks between games when the score is an even number are very short, and I’m the one serving. I don’t want to get a time violation.

So, I let my family’s words bounce around my head as I grab the balls from the ball person. It’s impossible to win this, no matter what my family says, but for them, I’m going to give it my all.

I’m not a quitter.

I won’t give up until the match is truly lost.

Which it isn’t.

Not yet.

Dig deep, mi amor . Find the strength.

Mamá’s words stay with me, too, the ones she told me countless times. I almost wish she was here with me in my head, but that would mean she isn’t already, which isn’t true. Part of her lives on in me. In Samuel. In Hernanda. In Ori. In Dad. She’s here. I can feel it.

The first serve of my next game goes straight down the middle of the line, and Frederica barely returns it. Her shot lands near the service line, so I approach it, then attack it, sending it cross-court at the highest speed I can muster.

“Fifteen-love,” the umpire says.

I roll out my shoulders, ignoring the slight pinch in my back.

My next serve is an ace.

“Thirty-love.”

I nod to myself several times.

Frederica and I battle over the next point.

Forehand, backhand, forehand, backhand. She does a drop shot that has me sprinting toward the net, but I manage to get it before the second bounce, hitting it back to her a little awkwardly.

I have no time to see where it’s going because I’m making my way to the center line, preparing to volley the ball back to her.

It doesn’t get to me again.

“Forty-love,” the umpire says, sending a wave of confidence I desperately need through my system.

I win my game with another ace.

The crowd explodes into cheers so loud, my heart overfills with love until it’s spilling onto my face in the form of a smile.

It’s a small victory to win my own service game, but it’s one I needed after losing so many.

It’s four games to one for Frederica, but maybe there is still a chance for me.

After the break between an uneven number of games, it’s time to go back to battling against Frederica, and battling is exactly what I’ll have to do to get back the two breaks and even out the score before taking the set for myself.

The next game is the longest one out of the entire match so far, but I win it. I win the game, making the score four games to two.

“ Vamos , Cata,” Santi calls out, and I place my finger to my temple, letting him know I’m locked in.

No one can stop me anymore.

Not even myself.

My next service game is as easily won as the previous one. More determination courses through me.

“ Un juego más ,” Santi says when I get back to the side of the court where they’re sitting.

One more game until I’ve evened out the set enough to take at least a small breath. One more game, and she won’t have an advantage over me anymore. One more game, and I can win the set.

I stand at the baseline, lowering myself enough to get in position. I spin my racket several times as I wait for Frederica, who looks truly rattled. It gives me an advantage.

My first return is a winner that has the crowd exploding into cheers.

“Love-fifteen,” the umpire calls out, but I don’t celebrate. I simply move to the other side of my half of the court to prepare.

The next point is difficult, and I end up losing it by hitting the ball into the net. I don’t let that get me down or demotivate me. I still have a chance.

I attack the next return, hitting it into the corner on the opposite side of where Frederica is standing. She manages to get it, but she lobs it over my head after I’ve run to the net.

“ Ah ,” escapes me as I stumble backward, running as fast as I can to get to the ball. It lands deep in the court, and the only way I manage to return it is by hitting the ball between my legs.

A tweener that lands inside the court, but Frederica is on it and hits a forehand right down the other side of my court. The only thing that allows me to get it is the fact that I took a fifty-fifty chance and started running that way before her racket strings even touched the ball.

I send it cross-court, getting the point.

“Fifteen-thirty,” the umpire says, but her voice is drowned out by the sound of the stadium cheering for me. For this incredible point.

I win Frederica’s service game in two more points.

More cheers erupt as I finally let out a “COME ON” so loud, it sends the crowd into a frenzy.

It’s four games to four games.

“You beautiful badass,” Charlie says as I wipe my face on the towel. “You’re so close,” they add, and I nod several times.

“Two more games to win the set,” I mumble, more to myself than any of my family members.

Because I’m so consistent with my serves at the moment, I win my service game easily again, making it five games to four for me. I’ve just won five games in a row, which isn’t unheard of in the tennis world, not at all, but it is fucking impressive.

One more game.

One more game and it’ll be one set to one.

One more game and I’ll have proven my doubts wrong.

That I do deserve this.

Frederica’s first serves weren’t consistent before I started catching up. They most certainly aren’t now that she’s rattled because of the score, and her second serve isn’t strong when I play well. When I get my shots in.

The set is mine within five minutes.

My eyes catch Santi as he jumps up from his chair, clapping for me. Charlie is beside him, doing the same.

I form my hand into a fist and punch the air, letting victory take over.

But it’s not until I win the third set with ease, until I hit a winner that secures me the win of the match and the title of the Grand Slam, that I sink to my knees and cry into my hands.

A wave of relief floods through my chest, but it’s soon overpowered by the feeling of victory and accomplishment.

I’ve won my first title.

I’m the number one women’s tennis player in the world.

I did it.

After shaking Frederica’s and the umpire’s hands, I do what Santi did after every tournament he won with me as his fake and then real girlfriend. I run to him. I run to my family. I run as fast as my legs can carry me while they feel like jello.

Security people and the crowd help me climb all the way up to get to my box.

My team hugs me first, but only because they’re standing closest to me. Then follows Dad, Hernanda, Ori, and I lean down to hug Sami too. Charlie pulls me into their arms next, and I feel Sage and Ness pat my back, congratulating me on winning a game that I almost lost.

If I were anyone else except the daughter of one of the most famous tennis players in the world, I would have, but I’m not.

I was always meant to follow in her footsteps, and even when I didn’t feel like I would ever be worthy of it, today I’ve taken a major step into accomplishing everything she did.

“I’m so proud of you. You deserve this more than anyone, Catalina. You worked so hard for it, and it has finally paid off,” Charlie says, but it’s their next words that have me crying even harder. “Your mother would be so, so proud of you.”

I’m crying so hard a sob leaves me, and that’s when Charlie turns me to Santiago, who’s been patiently waiting for me.

He’s putting his weight on his healthy leg, and I’m careful as I fling myself into his arms, welcoming the way his very presence settles me.

The tears keep running down my face, but I doubt they’re going to stop anytime soon.

“What a fucking match, Cata. I think my heart hasn’t found a way to beat evenly since it started, but it’s so worth it,” he says with a little chuckle, making me laugh against him.

“I won my first Grand Slam,” I whisper against his shoulder, and he nods several times.

“You did, and you did so gloriously,” he replies, and I lean back to place my mouth on his.

He kisses me as fervently as I kiss him, the heat of the moment making me forget we’re surrounded by people for a moment. It’s only when I hear Dad say, “Okay, okay,” with a little laugh that I lean away again.

“I love you, mi corazón ,” I whisper to Santi, who presses his forehead to mine, a tear streaming down his face as more run down mine.

“I love you so much, mi mariquita ,” he replies, kissing me softly before he smiles against my lips. “Now, go get your trophy.”

The brightest of smiles covers my face before I go to do exactly that.

And as I hold up the trophy, my eyes drift back to my family where they’re sitting in the box, cheering for me. For a moment, I think I even see Mamá standing behind them, but when I blink, naturally, she isn’t standing there.

But I know she’s here, watching me accomplish something so major in the sport we shared.

My fingers lift to the necklace she gave me, wrapping them around the charm.

This one is for you, Mamá.