Live Wire
Page 55
“Not that alone, no.”
“But it contributed?”
“I guess,” he said, biting back the anger. “You’re not going to tell me that Brad was the only man you were sleeping with back then, are you?”
Mistake. Myron saw it.
“Would it matter what I said?” she asked. “You’re going to believe the worst. You always did.”
“I just wanted Brad to check, that’s all. I’m his older brother. I was only looking out for him.”
Her voice was filled with bitterness. “So noble.”
He was losing her again. Getting off track. “So Suzze came here to apologize for spreading rumors?”
“No.”
“But you just said—”
“I said that’s what I thought. At first. And she did. She admitted that she let her competitive nature get the best of her. I told her, it wasn’t your competitive nature. It was your bitch of a mother. First place or nothing. Take no prisoners. The woman was a lunatic. Do you remember her?”
“I do.”
“But I had no idea how crazy that bitch was. Do you remember that pretty Olympic figure skater from the nineties, what was her name, the one who got attacked by her rival’s ex?”
“Nancy Kerrigan.”
“Right. I could see Suzze’s mom doing that, hiring someone to whack my leg with a tire iron or whatever. But Suzze said it wasn’t her mom. She said that maybe her mom pressured her and so she cracked, but that it was on her, not her mom.”
“What was on her?”
Kitty’s eyes went up and to the right. A small smile came to her lips. “Do you want to hear something funny, Myron?”
He waited.
“I loved tennis. The game.” Her eyes had a far-off look to them, and Myron remembered how she was back then, the way she crossed the court like a panther. “I wasn’t that competitive compared with the other girls. Sure, I wanted to win. But really, since I was a little girl, I just loved playing. I don’t get people who really want to win. I often thought that they were horrible people, especially in tennis. You know why?”
Myron shook his head.
“There are two people in a tennis match. One ends up winning, one ends up losing. And I think the pleasure comes not from winning. I think the pleasure comes from beating someone.” She scrunched up her face like a very puzzled child. “Why is that something we admire? We call them winners, but when you think about it, they really get off on making someone else lose. Why is that something we admire so much?”
“That’s a good question.”
“I wanted to be a professional tennis player because, I mean, can you imagine anything more wonderful than making a living playing the game you loved?”
He heard Suzze’s voice: “Kitty was a great player, wasn’t she?”
“I can’t, no.”
“But if you’re really good, really talented, everyone tries to make it stop being fun. Why is that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why, as soon as we show promise, do they take away the beauty and make it all about winning? They sent us to these ridiculously competitive schools. They pitted us against our friends. It wasn’t enough for you to succeed—your friends had to fail. Suzze explained this to me, like I didn’t already get it. Me, who lost my entire career. She knew better than anyone what tennis meant to me.”
Myron stayed very still, afraid to break the spell. He waited for Kitty to say more, but she didn’t. “So Suzze came here to apologize?”
“Yes.”
“And what did she tell you?”
“She told me”—Kitty’s gaze moved past him, toward the window shade—“that she was sorry for ruining my career.”
Myron tried to keep his expression blank. “How did she ruin your career?”
“You didn’t believe me, Myron.”
He did not reply.
“You thought that I got pregnant on purpose. To trap your brother.” Her smile was eerie now. “So dumb when you stop and think about it. Why would I do that? I was seventeen years old. I wanted to be a professional tennis player, not a mother. Why would I intentionally get pregnant?”
Hadn’t Myron thought something similar recently? “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “I should have known better. The pill isn’t a hundred percent. I mean, we learned that first week of health class in seventh grade, right?”
“But you didn’t believe that, did you?”
“At the time, no. And I’m sorry about that.”
“Another apology,” she said with a shake of her head. “Also too late. But of course you’re wrong.”
“Wrong about what?”
“About the pill not working. See, that’s what Suzze came to tell me. She said she did it almost as a prank at first. But think about it. Suzze knew that I was religious—that I’d never have an abortion. So what would be the best way to eliminate me, her toughest competitor?”
Suzze’s voice from two nights ago. “My parents explained to me that everything is fair in competition. You do whatever you have to to win. . . .”
“My God.”
Kitty nodded as if to confirm. “That’s what Suzze came here to tell me. She switched out my birth control pills. That’s how I ended up pregnant.”
It made sense. Stunning sense maybe, but it all fit. Myron took a second, let it all sink in. Suzze had been troubled two nights ago when the two of them sat on the balcony. Now he understood why—the talk about guilt, the dangers of being overly competitive, the regrets of the past—it was all a little clearer now.
“I had no idea,” Myron said.
“I know. But that doesn’t really change anything, does it?”
“I guess not. Did you forgive her?”
“I let her have her say,” Kitty went on. “I let her talk and explain everything in full detail. I didn’t interrupt her. I didn’t ask her any questions. And when she finished, I stood up, walked across this very room, and I hugged her. I hugged her hard. I hugged her for a very long time. And then I said, ‘Thank you.’ ”
“For what?”
“That’s what she asked. And if you’re on the outside, I understand the question. Look at what I’ve become. What, you have to wonder, would my life be like now if she didn’t change the pills? Maybe I would have gone on and been the tennis champion everyone predicted, winning majors and traveling the world in luxury, all that. Maybe Brad and I would have stayed together and had children after I retired, right about now maybe, and lived happily ever after. Maybe. But what I know for sure—the only thing I know for sure—is that if Suzze hadn’t switched my pills there would be no Mickey.”
“But it contributed?”
“I guess,” he said, biting back the anger. “You’re not going to tell me that Brad was the only man you were sleeping with back then, are you?”
Mistake. Myron saw it.
“Would it matter what I said?” she asked. “You’re going to believe the worst. You always did.”
“I just wanted Brad to check, that’s all. I’m his older brother. I was only looking out for him.”
Her voice was filled with bitterness. “So noble.”
He was losing her again. Getting off track. “So Suzze came here to apologize for spreading rumors?”
“No.”
“But you just said—”
“I said that’s what I thought. At first. And she did. She admitted that she let her competitive nature get the best of her. I told her, it wasn’t your competitive nature. It was your bitch of a mother. First place or nothing. Take no prisoners. The woman was a lunatic. Do you remember her?”
“I do.”
“But I had no idea how crazy that bitch was. Do you remember that pretty Olympic figure skater from the nineties, what was her name, the one who got attacked by her rival’s ex?”
“Nancy Kerrigan.”
“Right. I could see Suzze’s mom doing that, hiring someone to whack my leg with a tire iron or whatever. But Suzze said it wasn’t her mom. She said that maybe her mom pressured her and so she cracked, but that it was on her, not her mom.”
“What was on her?”
Kitty’s eyes went up and to the right. A small smile came to her lips. “Do you want to hear something funny, Myron?”
He waited.
“I loved tennis. The game.” Her eyes had a far-off look to them, and Myron remembered how she was back then, the way she crossed the court like a panther. “I wasn’t that competitive compared with the other girls. Sure, I wanted to win. But really, since I was a little girl, I just loved playing. I don’t get people who really want to win. I often thought that they were horrible people, especially in tennis. You know why?”
Myron shook his head.
“There are two people in a tennis match. One ends up winning, one ends up losing. And I think the pleasure comes not from winning. I think the pleasure comes from beating someone.” She scrunched up her face like a very puzzled child. “Why is that something we admire? We call them winners, but when you think about it, they really get off on making someone else lose. Why is that something we admire so much?”
“That’s a good question.”
“I wanted to be a professional tennis player because, I mean, can you imagine anything more wonderful than making a living playing the game you loved?”
He heard Suzze’s voice: “Kitty was a great player, wasn’t she?”
“I can’t, no.”
“But if you’re really good, really talented, everyone tries to make it stop being fun. Why is that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why, as soon as we show promise, do they take away the beauty and make it all about winning? They sent us to these ridiculously competitive schools. They pitted us against our friends. It wasn’t enough for you to succeed—your friends had to fail. Suzze explained this to me, like I didn’t already get it. Me, who lost my entire career. She knew better than anyone what tennis meant to me.”
Myron stayed very still, afraid to break the spell. He waited for Kitty to say more, but she didn’t. “So Suzze came here to apologize?”
“Yes.”
“And what did she tell you?”
“She told me”—Kitty’s gaze moved past him, toward the window shade—“that she was sorry for ruining my career.”
Myron tried to keep his expression blank. “How did she ruin your career?”
“You didn’t believe me, Myron.”
He did not reply.
“You thought that I got pregnant on purpose. To trap your brother.” Her smile was eerie now. “So dumb when you stop and think about it. Why would I do that? I was seventeen years old. I wanted to be a professional tennis player, not a mother. Why would I intentionally get pregnant?”
Hadn’t Myron thought something similar recently? “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “I should have known better. The pill isn’t a hundred percent. I mean, we learned that first week of health class in seventh grade, right?”
“But you didn’t believe that, did you?”
“At the time, no. And I’m sorry about that.”
“Another apology,” she said with a shake of her head. “Also too late. But of course you’re wrong.”
“Wrong about what?”
“About the pill not working. See, that’s what Suzze came to tell me. She said she did it almost as a prank at first. But think about it. Suzze knew that I was religious—that I’d never have an abortion. So what would be the best way to eliminate me, her toughest competitor?”
Suzze’s voice from two nights ago. “My parents explained to me that everything is fair in competition. You do whatever you have to to win. . . .”
“My God.”
Kitty nodded as if to confirm. “That’s what Suzze came here to tell me. She switched out my birth control pills. That’s how I ended up pregnant.”
It made sense. Stunning sense maybe, but it all fit. Myron took a second, let it all sink in. Suzze had been troubled two nights ago when the two of them sat on the balcony. Now he understood why—the talk about guilt, the dangers of being overly competitive, the regrets of the past—it was all a little clearer now.
“I had no idea,” Myron said.
“I know. But that doesn’t really change anything, does it?”
“I guess not. Did you forgive her?”
“I let her have her say,” Kitty went on. “I let her talk and explain everything in full detail. I didn’t interrupt her. I didn’t ask her any questions. And when she finished, I stood up, walked across this very room, and I hugged her. I hugged her hard. I hugged her for a very long time. And then I said, ‘Thank you.’ ”
“For what?”
“That’s what she asked. And if you’re on the outside, I understand the question. Look at what I’ve become. What, you have to wonder, would my life be like now if she didn’t change the pills? Maybe I would have gone on and been the tennis champion everyone predicted, winning majors and traveling the world in luxury, all that. Maybe Brad and I would have stayed together and had children after I retired, right about now maybe, and lived happily ever after. Maybe. But what I know for sure—the only thing I know for sure—is that if Suzze hadn’t switched my pills there would be no Mickey.”
