BASELINE ✸ Art Donaldson

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Twenty-Two. Victory!

              TATUM RETURNED TO THE MATCH JUST IN TIME FOR FINAL SERVE. And just seconds after there had been distinct murmurs of a point penalty for each side -- as for Patrick, he'd spent two minutes jamming his racket into the green painted court. But now, looking straight ahead at Art, he looks entirely guilt-stricken like he's about to lose his best friend all over again. 

And Art -- oh, Art. He had been staring down at his feet as he walked, his shoulders slumped with a sudden sadness. 

When he looked up for just a split second, Tatum could see the war he'd been fighting behind those tear-filled blue eyes of his. 

With what felt like a hand twisting her guts inside out, Tatum let out a sigh as her leg began to bounce up and down from the anticipation eating away at her. 

She turned just the slightest to face Tashi in her seat. "What happened?" 

Tashi doesn't even look at her. "What?" 

"While I was gone, Tashi." She says. Not the last thirteen years, is what she doesn't say. "Why are they both so upset?" 

She shakes her head, relaxing back into her seat like the blonde's words have somehow caused every single muscle in her body to relax, sparing her the smallest look. "Maybe you should stay in your seat next time and find out." 

Tatum scoffs, not trying to prevent the way her eyes roll to the back of her head in annoyance one bit.  Mumbling, but still talking loud enough for Tashi to hear, she speaks. "Fuck off." 

Tashi lets out a sound that echos similar to Tatum's scoff, but remains quiet. 

Cutting both of them out of their trances of silent hatred, though, Art serves his ball and hits it right past Patrick's head -- the felt almost coming off of it's ball shape as it slams against that wall behind him. 

And the yell he lets out is so loud and powerful that it even makes Tatum flinch in her seat. 

The referee calls an out and Patrick and Art just look at each other. Both with different emotion but for the same shared reason. 

Patrick breaks the contact for a quick second by looking up at Tatum with a knowing look in his eye, even giving her a sad smile. But what Tatum didn't expect was a nod. 

Mainly because she knew exactly what that meant. 

The game continues for another serve but is another out and during that time, Tatum spirals for a black sharpie. 

"What are you looking for, Miss?" Her assistant asks from the seat behind her. 

"Do you have something to write with?" She asks, not bothering to continue scanning through her purse as her assistant quickly hands her one. And without hesitation, she opens the cap and begins writing in the palm of her hand. 

And while she does that, Art looks down at his wedding ring one final time before this final serve. He toys with it, even. Spiraling it around his finger like it's a fidget toy and a distraction. But the only thing it was ever distracting Art from was his marriage. He'd look down at it and instead of picturing the day he married Tashi -- flashing hot images of what Tatum would look like in that same white gown she wore flood his mind. The life they could have lived together. 

So for what could very well be the last time Art Donaldson looks at Tatum Nichols, he looks at her. Really looks at her. Even when it's so hard to find her face in that crowd of people -- he does. And though he'd be able to spot that smile of hers in a room of a million people, this time, she has her hand raised in the air, and even from afar, he can read that in black sharpie, the writing on the palm of her hand reads I believe in you.