Off Court - Chapter 6.1

I was so excited for dinner. Dutch food was the best. Well, okay, that’s maybe a bit much, but I just love how much dairy is involved. It’s like I can feel my bones strengthening and growing even taller. Not to mention the fact that I could almost be considered average height around here. The Netherlands are great.

Unfortunately, my mum was sick, so it looked like it was just going to be me and Ron. That was fine, but I spend all day with him. What’s the point of having your mum on tour if you don’t get to see her?

“Léo?”

She was standing in my doorway and wiping her nose as she called to me.

“Hi, Mum,” I said, “How’re you feeling?”

I crossed the hotel room floor to her and gave her a quick hug. The room was slightly smaller than Montpellier but the floorboards gave such a satisfying feel of my feet peeling off them when I padded around without socks that I didn’t mind.

Mum shrugged me off, saying, “Léo, do not catch my cold.”

Her long dark hair was all straggly, and showing slightly more grey than normal. There were bags, or maybe swelling under her eyes and she looked like she was struggling just to stand up. I went to put an arm around her to stop her swaying, but was beaten to it by Ron, who suddenly appeared behind her.

“Oh, hey, Ron,” I said.

He looked up from smiling sadly at Mum and smiled even more ruefully at me, his head tilted right over to the side as if he was about to tell me Mum was dying.

“I’m going to stay in tonight and help your mum, Léo,” Ron said, “So I won’t be able to make dinner.”

I tried not to gulp at the thought of being alone with only my thoughts to keep me company. My thoughts and I usually aren’t great at not panicking when we chat one on one. Mum clearly wasn’t well, and Ron was probably right that someone needed to look after her. I’d just have to deal with it.

“Uh, that’s okay,” I said, “I’ll see if any of the other French players want to meet up.”

The French system had always been very social and based around club play, but as may be evident, making friends had never been my strong suit. I guess when most people were making their connections to each other concrete, I was busy coming to terms with my sexuality. I barely ever think about that part of myself now, which would shock fifteen-year-old me. Back then it basically defined every part of my life, but nobody knew that except my mum. I don’t think I’d realised how much I loved my mum until the day I came out to her. She shrugged, turned away, and started making dinner. Then later on that night she came up to me when I was brushing my teeth and gave me a bloody enormous hug. My mum is the literal actual best.

Anyway, I saw the French guys pretty regularly, and I always played my part in Davis Cup, so getting together for dinner with whoever was in town wouldn’t be ridiculous.

“Why not call Camillo?”

I looked up and Mum was trying to smile at me but her face was too weak and she just looked like she was grimacing. Clearly the idea of me and Camillo dating had not left her mind.

I raised an eyebrow at her. “That your plan, eh?”

She chuckled, which swiftly turned into a cough.

“Perhaps not,” I mumbled. She was definitely sick for real.

She had a point though. I had made a definite friend. And I knew Camillo had lots of other friends. That was a lot of potential friends right there. It would be a lot of people I’d seen in passing but barely spoken a word too. Maybe being around Camillo would bring that confidence out in me again.

I crossed back over to my narrow but soft single bed and sat on it with crossed legs, then got my phone out. He picked up almost immediately.

“Hey,” he said, “You any plans for tonight?”

It was as if he’d called me. I was trying to challenge myself and here he was taking the asking out of my hands. He was far too good to me.

“Nope, my mum’s sick and my coach is taking care of her, so I’m all on my lonesome.”

Lonesome? Okay, maybe I wasn’t ready to take the helm in conversations.

“Excellent,” Camillo said, “Want to come to dinner with me and some friends?”

“Yes please,” I replied, far too fast.

“Brilliant… Hold on, I’ll add you to the group.”

“The what?” I said. I glared out the window at the sad grey sky, willing it to do something, anything to reflect my excitement. I could feel my skin tingling. I’d wanted all of this for so long, but had no clue how to begin.

“The WhatsApp group. Do you have WhatsApp?” He sounded genuinely concerned, as if he was discovering I lacked a kidney.

“Uh, yeah, I think that’s what we use for Davis Cup,” I said, frantically putting him on speaker so I could check on my phone if that was right. “Yeah, it is. Let me just open this… Oh, cool, you’ve already added me.”

I barely listened to him as I instinctively scrolled upward through the previous messages. Maderic, Horti … Name after name that would dread if I saw it next to mine for a match. Was this a Top Twenty group chat? Would Camillo’s friends be okay with me being added?

“Léo!”

Camillo’s shout jolted me out of my panic and I focussed my eyes over the top of my phone at the shiny top of the nearest wooden bedpost.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Are you coming to dinner tonight?” Camillo asked.

“Yes,” I said. I didn’t say anything else, just grounded myself in that one word that I was absolutely sure of.

“Just reposted the details,” Camillo said, “See you then.”

“Bye,” I said, forcing my voice not to tremble, “Thanks.”

“No problem, man. See you soon.”

Then he hung up. I looked over to my doorway but the empty space just stared back at me. Mum and Ron must have gone back to their rooms. I took a deep breath. My anxiety really wasn’t going anywhere. Would having Camillo around actually help me at all? It was a really big step to begin my mission of challenging myself with. It’s a scary thought, going out to make friends. Perhaps I should start out smaller. I could at least get better at asking the waiter questions about the menu.