Page 7

The week has been so long and exhausting that Leah sighs thinking she only has this Sunday to relax at home and prepare for the next day, when her routine returns with full force. She complains in vain—she thinks—because she loves what she does, running her own sports club, teaching all her students, and training to keep up her skills. She remembers those moments in the past when fear threatened to destroy her, when she made the decision to retire from competitions because, although she knew what her next steps would be, she couldn't help thinking about failure. Her mothers supported her more than ever, and thanks to that and dedicating all her time to the new project, Walker Elite Sport Club is now her entire life, and she enjoys every moment she spends there.

"That smells wonderful," Anne says to her wife, who checks the lasagna she put in the oven a few minutes ago through the glass door.

"Your favorite dish," Natalie stands up and gives Anne a gentle caress before kissing her on the lips.

Leah watches her mothers from the corner of her eye while finishing drying some lettuce for a salad. They've been together their whole lives and, despite those years, they still have the same connection they had at the beginning. They met in their twenties, loved each other madly, unleashing their passion in any corner they could find, in that charming apartment that was too small for both when they decided to move in together, and nights eating pizza or Chinese food sitting on the floor because they hadn't yet bought anywhere to sit, ending up making love on the carpet. Years passed, more prosperous times came, and then Leah, the love of their lives. The three of them, just the three of them, and so they were immensely happy. Not everything was always perfect: Leah's tennis career, the passing years, Anne's infidelity that almost ended everything, but as a family they overcame it all, they were strong, and now they enjoy everything they have, something that goes beyond money: love, well-being, and joy.

"This is ready," Anne announces, taking the dish out of the oven with mitts and placing it on a rack on the table.

The three women sit down, each occupying the chair that almost bears their name. Since Leah bought this house, she made sure to make the living room—to one side of the large open kitchen—a cozy place with a big table to welcome guests, but especially for those days when her mothers visit to eat together. Natalie always sits at the head of the table; Leah to her left, and Anne to her right. That's how it's been all their lives, and they keep it that way.

Leah hasn't finished pouring the wine when her phone starts vibrating on the polished table where the plates rest. She glances over her glass, and the name on the screen makes her feel a wave of emotions. Natalie—the nosier of the two—also leans in a bit and confirms that the person calling at this hour is Stella Moore, her daughter's conceited partner.

"We're about to eat, call her back later," Natalie says casually. Stella isn't her favorite person.

Leah adores her mothers, but there are many occasions when they forget that she, at thirty-eight, is an adult capable of making her own decisions. She knows they don't mean to hurt her, quite the opposite; however, the tennis player has to constantly remind them that she's the one who makes these kinds of decisions.

She raises her gaze and observes Natalie for a fraction of time.

"You know how she gets if I don't answer, she won't stop calling," Leah stands up and walks out to the backyard of her house.

She walks until she sits in a green hammock she has in a corner—a gift from Mia—and turns her neck to release tension before answering.

"Honey," Stella greets her as soon as she hears her voice, "I thought you wouldn't pick up."

Leah smiles; that sweet tone of voice was the first thing that caught her attention about Stella, although she soon realized that Stella Moore can be many things, but sweet isn't one of them. It doesn't bother her; in fact, it reminds her a bit of herself when she was younger.

"We're about to eat, I'm at home with my mothers," Leah tells her and lies back more in the hammock. "How are you?"

"Give them my regards."

Another thing Stella has in abundance: manners. She knows perfectly well that her in-laws don't hold her in high esteem; even so, she sends her greetings, makes sure to buy them gifts when she travels to Charleston, and, at least one night, dines with them at Tony's restaurant, a southern expert in seafood that's Anne's weakness.

"I'm leaving practice, it was exhausting," Stella continues while Leah listens to the sound of her footsteps in the background. "I finally perfected the Tweener"—a shot where the player hits the ball between their own legs—"I've been practicing it for weeks."

"I want to see it," Leah asks her.

Stella bursts out laughing, knowing that next to her girlfriend, she's nothing but a novice, and Leah excels at these types of plays, not only executing them but anticipating them to return the shot.

"Maybe we can play together when we see each other," Stella replies. "By the way, I am playing in the local tournament after all, Chris—her coach—says it will give me some extra points. Will you come?"

Leah frowns.

"I've been the one traveling the last three times," the ex-tennis player complains.

When Stella left Charleston because Christian Roberts agreed to coach her as long as she moved to Tennessee, they both agreed that they would alternate trips. Once Stella, once Leah, but lately it's been the latter who has had to get on a plane to visit her girlfriend.

"I know, honey," Stella answers sweetly, "but you know the championship is coming up, I can't move around as much as I'd like. I promise that when all this pressure is over, you and I will go on vacation, and I'll also be able to spend more time in Charleston."

Leah sighs. She understands her, of course she does. When she was at that point as a professional tennis player, she barely had time for outings with friends, sharing with her mothers, or even having a girlfriend. She married tennis from a very young age, and when she turned professional, her life was being on a court. Stella wants to go far, she's thirty, she's well-known, she's won some championships, and she still has several to win. Unlike Leah, she doesn't want to retire so soon; she wants to try to go as far as she can, and that takes a lot of sweat.

"Why don't you come after the tournament?" Leah asks with a glimmer of hope. She wants to see her but doesn't want to get on a plane again so soon.

"Chris has booked me a cabin in Knoxville," Stella replies. "I've been under a lot of stress and I've been losing focus on very basic plays."

Retreats, Leah thinks. It's the typical getaway that a high-competition athlete does when they need to refocus. The idea is to do absolutely nothing for a few days except reconnect with the mind. Phones and technology are set aside. Leah recalls those long mountain walks when her brain collapsed after months of pressure.

"So besides flying to Tennessee, I won't be able to be with you more than two days?"

Stella mutters something unintelligible and clears her throat.

"Leah, you more than anyone should understand me," she says with a tone of slight anger. "You know very well what it costs to reach the top positions: the effort, the fatigue, the stress, and above all, the loneliness. I'd love to be able to come see you instead of you having to come, but this is my current situation and I can't—nor want to—change it."

The tennis player remains quiet for a moment thinking about her words, and the fact is that her girlfriend is right, much as it bothers her to be the one who, most of the time, has to travel across the country to support her in tournaments or see her for at least a few days. Her skin prickles and the dry sound of the ball hitting the court, the roar of the crowd, and the sweat on her forehead crosses her mind. How she misses those moments when her world was just the ball and a racket.

"I'll try to arrange it," she finally responds and softens her voice. "I want to see you destroy that spoiled Angelica Durán, so you better strengthen that backhand."

Though she can't see her, Stella smiles. Leah always supports her, even when certain things are difficult.

"Talk later?" asks the younger of the two.

"Call me when you go to bed," Leah requests and says goodbye to her girlfriend.

When the call ends, the club owner stares at her yard. It's immense, larger than the house itself, because Leah bought it precisely for that land that seemed wonderful to her. There she has a court, her own, where she rallies when she feels like it, remembering her moments of glory. She thinks about her life, her career, and Stella. She likes her, loves her; however, she's clear that what they have is temporary. They've been together for a while because it works well for both of them; in fact, their relationship hasn't broken because the younger one left Charleston, and that distance made what they had flourish. They see each other a couple of times a month, talk several times a week, and each has her own space. Stella is too young for Leah, and they both have different future plans; the only thing that unites them is their passion for tennis, and for them—for now—that's more than enough.

She returns to the house and sees her mothers talking about something in a confidential tone. Natalie smiles and Anne winks at her. Leah would love to have a relationship like theirs, which, despite the adversities they may have experienced, today finds them more in love than ever, so much so that they often look like two teenagers who have just met.

"Everything okay?" Anne asks when she notices her daughter's presence.

Leah nods and smiles.

"Stella sends her regards," she says and sits at the table.

"How is she?" asks Anne, who gets along better with her. Natalie believes she isn't good enough for her daughter.

"Training," says Leah with a grimace. "You know how it goes."

Natalie wants to say nothing, but that's how she is, and if she stays quiet, she might explode into a thousand pieces.

"I don't understand why you're still with that girl, Leah," she blurts out, and Anne shakes her head at her wife's imprudent comment. "Don't get me wrong, Stella is a great person, but she's not for you."

Leah lets out a sigh.

"Mom," she says in a serious tone. "Do I seem unhappy to you?"

Natalie looks at her wife as if asking for help, and Anne, in response, picks up her wine glass to take a sip. She has no intention of helping her out of the hornet's nest she's gotten herself into.

"No," the woman vehemently denies. "I actually think you're happy."

"Then why do you insist that I leave Stella?" inquires Leah. She's not upset, but she fervently wishes her mother would put this topic aside once and for all.

"I don't know, honey, it's just that I'd like you to share your life with a woman who really gives you more time, with whom you could truly have something solid. Stella is at a point that you've already lived through, and as you've said, right now her goal is training and championships."

Leah nods as her mother explains her point of view once again.

"I'm fine this way, and so is Stella. What I want, mother, is for you to put this topic aside. I understand your concern, but this is what I've chosen; when we don't feel good anymore, we'll end it. Meanwhile, this situation works well for us. We see each other, talk, and share exactly what we want. Okay?"

Natalie doesn't answer immediately, though she knows she'll get a good scolding from Anne, who is tired of asking her not to interfere in Leah's life in that way. She finally nods, smiles, and puts on that look that the family already knows, the one that says she's sorry, although she doesn't really feel completely sorry because she's a woman who can't stop saying what she thinks.

"Topic settled," Anne speaks, looking at Natalie with a gesture in her eyes, "let's eat before it gets cold, and I want to watch that movie you promised me, on the couch with another good glass of wine."

All three smile and start serving their plates. Leah knows Natalie is right and understands clearly that the relationship with her girlfriend has an expiration date that's approaching more and more. She decides to stop thinking about that; she wants to enjoy the family Sunday until, suddenly and out of nowhere, a clumsy girl crosses her mind, like one of those speedboats that travel at a frightening speed cutting through the water, and Leah can't help feeling her heart skip a beat.