She's back ~ L. Hamilton

45. | Two Months

This cannot be happening.

Absolutely not.

In no world.

In no world am I even remotely attracted to -

Fuck this

I can't even admit it to myself in my own head

It's not true

My organs just don't know what to do.

They're too exhausted from all this training.

That's it.

I'm too tired from tennis practice and so mentally exhausted from loosing that I'm having stupid thoughts.

My exhaustion is blocking my thoughts and making me have stupid and wrong ones .

That's it.

It will pass in a few days.

This stupid fucking feeling did not pass in a few days.

April 2023
Two months until the French Open

By April, I felt light on my feet. My knee felt alright. I feel nimble. I feel excited for Paris.

I can do this.

This is what I do.

One evening in early April, my uncle and I are eating dinner in my kitchen. We have spent the day working on my second serve. It's one of the first days in a long day that I'm not exhausted, when hitting at the best of my ability does not take everything out of me. I remember this feeling in my 20s - this sense of sheer accomplishment without the weight of the cost.

I finally have it back, this feeling.

My uncle and I are eating his grilled chicken.

"It's bone dry" I say "why didn't you make a red rice? Or a white wine sauce"

"I'd like to see you make dinner" he says

"I don't cook" I say "I order takeout. Because if I made chicken it would taste like this"

My phone rings from the kitchen, my uncle stands up to get it.

"It's my phone Marco" I say "if I wanted to answer it, I would answer it"

He swats me away with his kitchen towel and a smile.

"Hello. oh hey" he says, and then he smiles and turns to me, practically grinning from ear to ear "it's Liam"

I bolt up and take the phone from him.

"Stop smiling like that, you look like a psychopath" I muttered before brining the phone up to my ear

"Hey Liam, how are you? Good job in Italy"