What Is Left Behind

1.4

I was seven when my mom signed me up for tennis lessons.

She was a failed tennis player who never got to go pro. Her plan was to have a daughter go pro and live her dreams. Because that always turns out well in the end. I actually feel in love with the game. It became my own dream to go pro one day.

I have not played tennis since my summer competition. I won. Though I keep the trophy in the garage. It is a reminder that I might have won but in the end I lost something greater. After the incident I just haven't wanted to play.

After school I walked out to the tennis courts. My palms were clammy and I felt short of breath. I stood outside the fence watching the team warm up together.

Seven of those girls were like my second family last year. Only playing in pairs up until the summer competition, I didn't think she would be good enough to play singles but these girls helped me. With them, I saw I was good enough. I was almost better than her.

She knew that and because of it, I hurt her.

I hurt her.

I hurt someone I loved.

I didn't mean to.

I-

"Allie, it's good to see you."

I smiled over at my tennis coach who had joined watching beside me at some point.

Coach Gavin was a woman in her mid forties who still looks like she was in her twenties. With long red hair always pulled into a high ponytail with a visor cap on that helped shade her face from the sun she was always in. I've only seen her in athletic clothing even at fancy dinners she wore something athletic related. She was someone I will always look up to. She was always my personal cheerleader.

"Are you going to join us this season?" Coach asked. "I still have a spot for you."

"I don't know if I can."

Coach looked down at me, she watched me for a second making me uncomfortable, but then she smiled. "Life has really been tough for your family this year. I know you did not see this coming or even imagined for it to happen. And I would be lying to tell you I understand what you're going through, because I can't and I can't even begin to imagine it. But I can tell you this.

"I struggled when my father passed away when I was in college. I gave up on everything because I saw him with every practice, every game, and even in my tennis racket. The only thing that helped was when I stopped fighting not thinking of him and I gave in. I started to play again and I embraced the painful memories. I started to keep them alive with every match. It still hurts, but I know I am doing what he loved watching me do. Most importantly, I am doing what I love the most."

My head felt dizzy as I processed Coach Gavin's words.

It's something my therapist told me last week at our session. Giving up something I love due to a painful memory won't heal me, but hold me back.

"I'll think about it, Coach." I finally said, giving her a smile.

Coach Gavin patted me on the shoulder and said, "Well, I hope to see you soon, AB."

As Coach went into the court, I saw a familiar blonde beauty walking my way. She exchanged words with the coach before continuing my way. I could leave, but she will find me one way or another.

She was golden, like the sun chose her to kiss and leave behind its glow on her and only her. Her skin made her honey blonde hair look like a halo around her head. It was even pulled back into a perfect ponytail that showed off her tiny features that just seemed perfect in every way. It was like a model was walking towards me.