She's back ~ L. Hamilton

69. | 1955 Mercedes

I leave Paris the next day. My flight was originally scheduled to be two days after the final. I think Tasha thought that if I lost I could at least enjoy Paris. But I want out of here. I can't stomach walking down the street, looking in every cafe window, footage of the Open was playing. With banners and posters hanging around the streets, advertising it.

I fly to London. It was always the plan to go to London after Paris. It's the best place to do interviews for Netflix, and I said since it's only a 40 minute flight between the two capital cities, I might as well make it easier on them.

I haven't spoken to my uncle since I lost. Tasha asked if he wanted to go with me, but he claimed he wanted to stay in Paris a little longer.

So me and Tasha flew out to London. Booked ourselves into the Ritz. Went down to the Netflix studio.

I talked for what felt like forever. I talked about how it was leading up to the French open, I talked through all the matches I played, I talked about how it felt to lose. I talked about everything. And when they finally nodded their heads and were satisfied with what I've given them, we got back into a taxi and went back to the hotel.

The next day, me and Tasha are sitting together in a pub around the corner from the hotel. The women's tennis final is playing on the tv: Nicki Li vs Charlie Thyme

I'm wearing one of Daniel's red bull baseball caps and a pair of sunglasses with a large oversized jacket. Part of me wants to run back to the hotel and hide right now, to not be in public.

I can tell the people around me recognise me, I've learned how to pick up on the signs. The facts that they're trying to face forward but their eyes keeps looking over at me, people pretending to take selfies but the back camera is perfectly pointing towards me, people tapping their friends and trying to be subtle.

But I'm grateful for the fact that no one makes a deal about it, everyone keeps to themselves.

We're in perfect view of the tv from where we're sitting. At first we try to pretend that neither of us are watching it, making light conversation that neither of us were focusing on properly. But by the time Nicki wins the first set, we've given up all acts.

Tasha grabs my hand as the second set begins. Neither of us move, even when the food arrives.

Charlie takes the second set as we begin to eat our steak and chips.

"Maybe Charlie could win" Tasha says

"I almost wish Wade had made it to the final. She would actually have a really good shot against Nicki. But Charlie......I don't know........I don't know"

She nods

Thirty five minutes later. Nicki only needs one more point to win.

She serves the ball high and fast.

Charlie returns it.

Nicki fires it off like a rocket towards the left corner, Charlie stumbles but she gets to it.

I can see Nicki smile as she fires it towards the right corner.

Charlie runs.

But she's not fast enough.

I watch in horror as the ball bounces, and then bounces again.

I feel my fork slip from my hand.

Nicki falls to the floor. Tears in her eyes.

That's it.

That's the match.

That's the tournament.