“No.” The pressure in her throat eased. Tova was not going to put her on the spot. “Tennis is my life, and dating—falling in love—is a distraction I can’t afford.”
“That’s not necessarily true. Plenty of players have relationships or marriages. Michi Cleaver is married to her coach. Jelena Kovic travels with her long-time girlfriend. Serena Williams is married with a child.”
“I don’t think I could do that. Love is such an all-encompassing emotion. Something would have to give so that love could take its place.”
“When were you last in love?”
Alina’s hand trembled on the stem of the wine glass, and she tightened her grip and took a sip to steady herself. “A long time ago. When I was seventeen.”
“At the Delacourt Academy?”
“Yes. There was another junior player there. An American. We fell in love.”
“What happened?” Tova turned her wineglass a quarter turn and studied the contents as if they were somehow new and strange.
“We kept our relationship secret, and I don’t think anyone ever found out—except my coach of course. He told me to end the relationship. He said it wasn’t acceptable in my country, and it could be dangerous both for me and my family. I’ve always believed I didn’t have any choice.”
“Do you still see them?”
Them. Could she do this? She took another sip of wine. The glass was nearly empty. If she did this, if she confirmed what Tova so obviously suspected, then there would be no going back. Oh, she could veto any mention of it, but if she said the words aloud to another person, then she couldn’t keep them inside ever again.
Alina took a deep breath. Her heart pounded in double time at the enormity of what she was going to say. “Stacy is no longer on the tour. She had a couple of years on the Challenger circuit, but she wasn’t good enough to make tennis her career. The last I heard, she works in politics as some sort of campaign advisor.”
Tova was silent. Then she reached a hand across the table. “Alina, you know this is off the record if that’s what you want—need—it to be. You can talk to me. I don’t think you’ve talked to anyone for a very long time.”
The compassion in Tova’s voice was nearly Alina’s undoing. I won’t cry. She dragged a deep breath, and then another, until she was sure her voice would remain steady. “Nothing has changed.” She closed her eyes momentarily at the unfairness of that. “My coach, my agent, my country… Tennis must come first in everything I do. If I date, it must be a suitable man.”
“If it were up to you, would you have a personal life that went beyond tennis?”
The ache of longing in her chest bit deep. She nodded. If only…
“Well then.” Tova sat back in her seat as the waiter approached and set down their entrées.
Alina stared at her duck. The aroma made her mouth water. How long had it been since she’d been excited about her food? How long had it been since she’d been excited about a lot of things? “What about you?” she asked. “You travel a lot following the tennis tour. Do you have a partner?”
“No. My last girlfriend was a physiotherapist who also spent a lot of time with the tour. But we split nearly a year ago. It was a mutually amicable decision.”
The duck tasted as delicious as it looked. Suddenly, there were new possibilities in the evening, in the remainder of the week in Melbourne. Beyond that? Alina didn’t know.
The boulder that had lodged in her chest for the past few months shifted. It wasn’t gone, not yet, but in the flickering candlelight, the haze of an unaccustomed glass of wine, there was the potential for it to dissipate in a starburst leaving her free of its weight.
Free to be what? Alina didn’t know. But maybe, she was about to find out.
She leaned forward and raised her palm.
Tova placed hers against Alina’s without hesitation.
Tova’s hand was warm, and the touch sent sparks along Alina’s palm, travelling the nerve pathways towards her heart. She linked their fingers together. “Tell me how players go about changing their citizenship.”
If you enjoyed this short story, check out Code of Conduct by Cheyenne Blue, where you’ll be able to meet Alina for the first time.