Lilah Tov (NaNoWriMo)

ten

ten

           “And another point for team Brooks! Up high, little bro!” Charlie dropped his racket on the green tar and extended his hand towards mine with a triumphant smile.

           I kept my racket taut in my hand, though still followed through with Charlie’s outward display of triumph. Our palms slapped together, and then recoiled with our rigid elbows. I jogged back over to my side of the court, and so did Charlie. “Ready for another round?” I asked our two winded opponents.

           “I think I need a quick breather,” Eden said, wiping her forehead with a handkerchief. “We’ve been at this for a while, boys, and I’m not nearly as in shape as I used to be!”

           “Well, I’m ready,” heaved Asher, breathing heavily and using his knees to support his upper body. “I know that I might not look like much, but I can take you two in my sleep!”

           “I don’t believe that for a second, old man,” Charlie challenged.

           “Did he just call me ‘old’?” Asher demanded, rising to his full height.

           Eden chugged a bottle of water and then gently placed it back on the ground. “I think he did, sweetheart.”

           “Oh, he is so getting his ass kicked!”

           “Asher!”

           “Sorry—he is so getting his tushy kicked!” amended the man.

           Charlie cockily patted on his chest, smiling smugly. “Come at me, grandpa!”

           Asher turned back to his wife and very simply asked, “Eden, do you mind if I sub in someone who doesn’t look like they’re about to pass out?” He was indirectly expressing that Eden was the one who appeared as though she would pass out. Because she did. Her cheeks were throbbing with a sudden rush of blood, and sweet drenched every inch of her body. Though she wasn’t out of shape for her shape (more the opposite), Eden Green clearly hadn’t expected tennis with the Brooks brothers to be this much of a workout. She probably thought that it would just be a nice friendly game with two teens. But when Charlie and I played tennis (whether as teammates or adversaries), we played to win.

           Our parents were big on tennis. They started me in lessons when I was probably six, and Charlie started at a late eight. But Charlie was naturally gifted at every sport imaginable, so despite his delayed beginning, he caught on quick. At eleven, his backhand was close to perfection, while I still struggled with my forehand. We practiced at least three times a week, maybe more. Hillary and Robert Brooks loved their tennis, and when we were younger, they played as much as they could. My dad was happy that his sons were invested in his favorite sport, and my mom was happy that we were playing, too.

           When I was about ten and Charlie was twelve or so, my dad started to take us out to the local country club on weekends to play tennis. This was the first time that he was actually playing with us, instead of standing off on the sideline to encourage and critique us. Sometimes he would play against us, and other times he would team up with one of us (usually me) and play against the other (usually Charlie). It was nice playing tennis, but what I remembered most fondly about those days wasn’t the learning of the sport, but rather the spending time with my dad bit.

           Even now, I didn’t spend that much time with my parents. During the year, I was away at school and only popped home for holidays and major vacations. And when I was home, my parents were typically consumed in their own lives. My dad never stopped working, and there was always a historic society of whatever meeting for my mom to plan and attend. This wasn’t a recent thing, either. It had always been that way. When I was little, my dad was always in the office, and my mom stuck us with countless European nannies. So when my dad took an interest in our (Charlie’s and my) tennis abilities, we both gave it our all. Because even back then, we knew that time with our father was a precious and fleeting thing.