Page 15

The day in Charleston is perfect, with radiant sunshine that disappears behind clouds for a while, giving respite before reappearing with force. Despite the heat, the breeze is pleasant, and Emily Harris predicts she'll have a good day. She started her morning at the courthouse; she doesn't have a trial, though she does need to deliver documentation requested by the judge. Then she met with two clients at her office and helped her mother prepare a proposal she wants to present to a company that has requested her services. Now she enjoys what she considers the best moment, her tennis training at the Walker Elite Sport Club. The lawyer observes people playing with enthusiasm; some shout, others curse when a play goes wrong, but overall everyone seems happy to be there. She searches on her phone for her court number and walks toward it with determination. Over the weeks, Emily has gained confidence on the court; she truly feels she has improved this time and, though she knows she'll never reach a high level, as long as she can play and have fun, it's enough.

She frowns when she sees Leah on the court waiting for her. This isn't typical; Emily always arrives early and her trainer comes a few minutes later. She notices Leah lost in thought, staring at a ball bouncing against the ground as she hits it with her racket.

"Hello," Emily greets, and Leah can't help but startle. "Sorry if I scared you."

Leah focuses on her and smiles; Emily always puts her in a good mood.

"I was distracted," the tennis player answers. "How are you?"

"Ready for training," she replies euphorically and approaches the bench to put down her bag. "By the way, how's Mia's brother? I was worried."

"He's fine, it was just a fall. Thanks for asking," she responds without giving many details.

Leah grabs the cart with the balls and drags it to the center of the court. She loosens the elastic tying her hair and redoes it more carefully. Emily watches her and thinks she's a beautiful woman, one whose simplicity enhances her beauty.

"Ready?" Leah asks when she notices Emily standing still.

The attorney snaps out of her daze and, before she starts walking, the racket slips from her hand. She bends down, picks it up, and gives Leah a childlike look. The trainer smiles at her and shakes her head.

"Hey, I want to discuss a personal matter with you. Can we talk when we finish training?" Leah asks as Emily approaches her.

The lawyer makes a face of annoyance because she already has an appointment at the office and considers whether, from Leah's expression, the matter is very urgent. She doesn't think so – or that's what she imagines – because otherwise, the woman would have given more details.

"I have an appointment with a client after this," Emily answers without much enthusiasm. "But I'll be home at eight; if you want, we can meet there and talk."

"I'll adapt to your schedule," Leah smiles, and Emily finds that upward curve of her lips perfect. "I'll be at your house at eight."

"Great. Everything okay?" Emily inquires.

"Yes," she assures her. "I just need some advice from you."

Emily nods and decides to wait for the evening appointment to find out what's happening.

"Well, today we'll warm up as usual and then practice focus," Leah begins explaining to Emily as they both make circular movements with their shoulders. "I want you to start concentrating solely on returning the ball and following it until it's your turn to hit it again. For now, it will be static; you'll stay in the same spot and then start moving a few steps."

Emily agrees and confirms it with an energetic head movement and a radiant smile, one of hers. They stretch their legs, warm up their ankles and arms. They jog a couple of laps, and when they're ready, Leah stands in front of her, a few meters away, and starts hitting soft balls to her. Emily misses the first one because the sound of a woman celebrating her victory makes her turn her head to find the source of the shout.

"Emily," Leah calls her. "Focus on the training."

The lawyer realizes her distraction and grimaces.

"I'm sorry," she answers and widens her stance to position herself.

The trainer manages to get Emily to focus and return the ball most of the time. Leah corrects her to make her stroke softer and avoid sending the ball so far. Minutes pass, and the women start to sweat. The lawyer seems to have taken her task of keeping her eyes on the yellow sphere literally, because her furrowed brow and tight lips give her an air of extreme concentration.

Mia Clark appears on the left path, dragging a cannon-shaped device. She enters the court, and when Leah notices her presence, she checks her wristwatch and realizes that half an hour has passed since the training began. She always has that feeling when she's with Emily, that time flies; with her, everything seems simpler.

"How's it going, Emily?" asks Mia, who places the device next to where Leah is standing.

The lawyer notices something different about the girl. That usual spark in her eyes is missing, and she wants to ask if she's okay. She doesn't, not wanting to be intrusive because, despite having a good relationship, she feels she doesn't have enough trust.

"I think better," Emily responds to her question and makes one of her exaggerated movements, stepping forward – too far forward – and swinging her racket as if she were about to hit someone.

Mia smiles, but only halfway, and Emily bites her cheeks to keep from asking what's wrong. Leah speaks, and she appreciates it because it prevents her from continuing with that indecisive thought.

"This is a ball launcher," the tennis player begins explaining as she touches the device with one hand. "The exercise we'll do now is very similar to what we were practicing; the difference is that this time you'll have to move a little. Mia will direct it so you can follow the ball, and I'll be behind you giving some instructions, okay?"

Emily's heart gallops forcefully. She knows it's a simple practice, but one that gradually increases in difficulty. She's never minded doing poorly; she focuses on having fun, though for some unknown reason, she wants to excel, wants to show Leah that she has learned and that everything is improving.

"Understood," she answers firmly. "I'm ready."

Leah gives her a gentle pat on the back as if to tell her she'll be there. Emily loves the gesture, and it makes her relax slightly.

"Mia, on my signal," she asks the caddie and then speaks to her student. "Focus on the ball and my voice. When I tell you to move, I'll indicate which direction. Short steps, Mia will make sure the ball comes out with little force."

Leah raises an arm, and Mia activates the ball launcher and moves it a bit.

"Left," Leah whispers, close to Emily's back.

The lawyer, who isn't made of steel, feels such a shiver down her spine that she freezes. The ball rolls to her left, and Leah watches it until it stops.

"You have to move so you can return the ball," the trainer explains again, mistakenly thinking Emily didn't understand her well, ignoring how the lawyer's stomach vibrated at her whisper.

"Sorry, I don't know what came over me," the lawyer lies.

"Come on, are you ready?"

"I am."

The steps repeat: Leah raises her hand, Mia adjusts the machine, the trainer whispers, and this time Emily moves. She takes two steps to the right and manages to hit the ball, though she does it with such force that she sends it off the court. Even so, she celebrates as if she just won a championship.

"Good, good, Emily," Leah congratulates her. "Right now we're not practicing strength, just moving and returning the ball. Although it would be good for you to start thinking that, in many cases, less is more. There are plays that require strength, but others, like this one, don't. Let's go again."

The next thirty minutes pass with the cannon launching balls from left to right and Emily moving across the court with increasing confidence. Some of her shots are soft, and others are missiles. One nearly hits Mia in the head.

"I loved today's training," Emily tells the tennis player once they've finished and both clean off their sweat and drink water.

"Didn't you like the others?" Leah teases her, and Emily narrows her eyes.

"You know I did, but now I feel more confident. I think I've learned more than ever."

Before Leah can answer, Mia approaches to remind her about the training on court three and that she'll wait for her there, says goodbye to Emily, and leaves.

"See you tonight at my house?" the lawyer asks to confirm the appointment.

"Yes, you need to give me your address."

"If you want, you can give me your phone number, and I'll send it to you by message."

Emily feels her feat has been incredible. She has very easily obtained Leah's number and with it the excuse to perhaps invite her to lunch someday. She likes the tennis player and, being true to what she has been feeling lately, is quite sure she feels some attraction toward her. It's been a while since she's asked anyone out. She has dated women and had a good time, but something in her brain tells her Leah isn't one of those, so if she ever decides to meet with her on a more personal level, she needs to be sure of it.

After the exchange, the women say goodbye, and Leah walks to the court where she's scheduled to give her next class. She observes Mia getting everything ready and knows her friend is truly having a hard time. She can tell even in the way she walks.

"Tonight I'm meeting with Emily to talk about Aaron," Leah explains while looking at the caddie with affection. "You'll see how we manage to solve it."

Mia just approaches her and hugs her. It's gratitude, affection, a sense of sisterhood. Leah is all she has besides Aaron, and she doesn't hesitate to admit that without her, she would be lost.

It's eight minutes past eight in the evening when Leah rings the doorbell at Emily Harris's house. From the outside, it's a beautiful building, typical of Charleston, though with a somewhat more modern touch. From where Leah stands, it seems like a small house compared to others in the neighborhood. It doesn't take long before she hears footsteps, and a few seconds later, the door opens. Leah's breath catches; in front of her, Emily is dressed in dark blue linen pants and a completely white short-sleeved t-shirt. Her hair is down, though on the left side a clip holds it back, while the right side falls across her face. This is Emily, the lawyer, not the woman who loves sports and is a bit – or very – clumsy. Leah loves the contrast, she's fascinated seeing her dressed like this, just as much as in sportswear, ready to use the racket. Her mind collapses when she remembers her sweating on the court at her club and, suddenly, imagines her with a brow pearled with sweat in another scenario.

"Come in," Emily says and steps aside. "Did you find parking?"

Leah realizes it's a typical question she uses to break the ice with clients, because the area where her house is located has plenty of free street parking.

"Yes, right in front," the tennis player answers and enters the living room of her student's house.

The interior of the home is more beautiful than Leah imagined. That combination of the classic elegance that South Carolina houses have with modern details enhances its charm. The ceilings are high and create a sense of spaciousness, while the floors are made of a material that the tennis player can't quite determine. The living room preserves a marble fireplace that seems to have been there for more than a century, but instead of the heavy furniture of yesteryear, there's a modular sofa in neutral tones with linen cushions and a minimalist wood and metal center table. An industrial design pendant lamp hangs over the dining table, which is a perfect blend between rustic and contemporary: reclaimed wood with black steel legs.

"Your house is impressive, Emily," Leah verbalizes as the lawyer invites her to sit.

Emily smiles and scans her living room with her eyes.

"I'm delighted with the result," she explains. "It belonged to my grandparents; the house is very cozy, but the lot was immense, so I made two divisions and sold them. I kept just enough and also preserved much of its origin."

"I would have loved for mine to be more in this style. Don't misunderstand me, I like it a lot, although perhaps it's too big and modern."

The fleeting thought of being in that house crosses Emily's mind, having dinner one night or breakfast one morning after...

"Must be dinner," the lawyer clears her throat when the doorbell rings and smooths out invisible wrinkles in her pants. "I ordered some food while you tell me what you want to consult me about."

Emily disappears and when she returns to the living room, she does so carrying two bags. She approaches the table and takes out some packages that smell so good that Leah immediately starts salivating.

"I hope you like roast beef sandwiches," Emily says and signals for her to sit at the table. "The ones from Giselle's are my favorite."

"I haven't tried them," the tennis player laughs at Emily's astonished face.

"Prepare yourself to taste a delicacy then," she opens a can of blonde beer, "which we will of course accompany with this elixir."

The sandwich is filled with well-seasoned roast beef cooked in a wood-fired oven for more than twenty-four hours. The result is veal that's like butter, soft and light, melting at the first bite.

"Damn, this is good," says Leah as she chews and closes her eyes. Then she takes a sip of the ice-cold beer.

"Told you," Emily takes pride in her choice.

A few minutes later, the women are back on the sofa. Emily has asked Leah to provide context for what she needs, and the tennis player has begun her account, updating her on everything that's happening with Aaron. She explains Mia's past, though she omits certain details that she believes aren't hers to tell; she shares what's necessary for Emily, as a professional, to advise her.

"The previous lawyer didn't do a bad job, but I think he could have achieved more," Leah concludes.

"In cases like these, the options are few, though there's always some alternative path to take," she tells her. "At my family's firm, we've already handled similar cases, and I can help Mia. First, before telling you anything else, I need to see all the documentation she has on the case. That way, we'll begin to get an idea of which strategy to lean towards and, above all, know what we have against us and in our favor."

Leah is fascinated. Emily speaks with firmness, with a composure given by experience. Her mother wasn't wrong in assuming the lawyer really likes her job.

"Emma will be the lead attorney," Emily continues, "I'm now handling a somewhat tedious case and can't neglect it, so she'll take care of everything necessary, and I'll help her."

"I'll ask Mia to prepare everything," Leah answers and takes out her phone to note down the details. "We also need to talk about fees; I'll take care of those."

Emily shakes her head.

"We'll talk about that later, don't worry."

The doorbell rings again, and Emily frowns. She apologizes to Leah and gets up to walk to the door. When she opens it, she finds her neighbor, a much older woman who takes excessive care of herself and appears much younger than she is. The woman hands her a pamphlet inviting some of those living in the area to attend a summer barbecue that she and her husband are organizing. Emily smiles at her and accepts the paper; she doesn't read it, she won't attend. Although she doesn't dislike the woman, she knows that her non-liberal position doesn't align with the lawyer's values.

When Emily returns, Leah is standing in front of a piece of furniture where several photographs are displayed; she studies them calmly, and the lawyer can't find her more beautiful. She doesn't know what's happening to her, but something urges her to approach her, to breathe the same oxygen. When she reaches Leah's back, the woman turns, and Emily, in a surge of confidence and desire, passes her hand over the tennis player's neck, raising it in a caress, and presses against her lips to kiss her. At first, Leah doesn't move, though as soon as she feels the softness of Emily's skin, she takes her by the waist and pulls her close. The kiss lingers, it's slow, exploratory, and both are enjoying it. An annoying and repetitive sound is the only thing that manages to separate them.

"Sorry," Emily says, pulling away from Leah, "it's my work phone, and if it rings at this hour, it's because it's important."

Leah nods, dazed. She touches her lips while watching Emily turn to pick up the device. She reprimands herself many times because she isn't free to go around kissing women; she has a relationship with Stella that, although she's clear they aren't in love, deserves respect.

"Yes, right now, let me open my laptop," Emily says as she turns on the device and covers the earpiece. "It's my father," she whispers, "I'll be with you in a moment."

Leah feels somewhat suffocated and, as best she can, pretends to check her wristwatch.

"I have to go," she answers in the same whisper. "I need to stop by my mothers' house, and it's getting late."

Emily frowns. The excuse seems very implausible to her, and she immediately thinks her action wasn't appropriate. Kissing Leah like that was perhaps hasty; she's assumed something she doesn't know for certain, and now the tennis player might feel uncomfortable.

"Dad, give me a minute," Emily requests and approaches Leah. "I'm sorry, did that bother you?"

It's a silly question for Leah because she loved it; the problem is that her body language tells the woman in front of her something different. She can't hide it, she doesn't feel good about what she's done; she has a girlfriend.

"I'm fine, don't worry," she answers and tries to sketch a smile that turns out terrible.

Emily still doesn't believe her, but she doesn't want to pressure her; besides, her father is waiting on the other end of the line.

"Tomorrow, Mia will get in touch with you. Thank you very much, Emily."

The lawyer also sketches a half-smile and watches as the woman who has awakened desires that seemed dormant leaves her house with her head down and without looking at her.