The Singles Game
Page 54
‘I know,’ Marcy said, shaking her head sympathetically. ‘I hope it goes quickly. You deserve to celebrate.’
‘I doubt Karina would agree with you.’ Charlie’s voice caught.
Marcy understood immediately. ‘Oh, Charlie, don’t do that to yourself. You and I both know that the game has changed. How many times have we talked about it? A million? You had the mental strength to come back from a first-set loss, you dominated the second-set tiebreaker, and you beat her fair and square in the third. The rest is just noise.’
Charlie knew her ex-coach well enough to know that she didn’t mean everything she was saying. Yes, Charlie had shown great mental toughness, and, yes, she had definitely demonstrated impressive strategy and strokes on the court, but she knew in her heart of hearts that she shouldn’t have gone ahead with that final serve until Karina was in position. No matter how sleazy her opponent’s intention had been. Charlie could have won it anyway – would have won it – and she wouldn’t be standing there right then, naked in a sterile locker room, too ashamed to enjoy the victory that she really did deserve. And Marcy knew it, too.
The door to the locker room opened. Charlie and Marcy exchanged looks just before the doping official appeared before them, a stout woman in warm-up pants and a pullover that read TENNIS ANTI-DOPING PROGRAMME. ‘Charlotte Silver? I’m Theresa Baird, and I’m with the Programme. I am here to advise you that we will be performing a standard urinalysis test to ensure your player eligibility remains intact. Do I have your consent?’
Her consent. As if she had a choice in the matter! And this timing of a post-match test was clearly her punishment for missing that early-morning test the day she’d slept in Marco’s hotel room. Once a player missed a test during the hour they had designated as an acceptable testing window, the officials could show up literally anytime and anywhere: a restaurant, a Broadway show, the airport, a friend’s apartment, a family reunion. If you didn’t agree to take the test at the moment of the tester’s choosing, it was reported as a fail and you were immediately penalized as though you were guilty of doping.
Charlie wouldn’t argue. ‘I consent. But I have to tell you, I’m not sure I can pee right now.’
The woman nodded. She knew it would be the case immediately following a long match. ‘Shall we try? Then, if it doesn’t work, you can get dressed and we’ll wait.’
Marcy raised her eyebrows at Charlie as if to say, Wow, that sounds like a great time. Charlie offered her a half wave and mouthed a thank-you. ‘Marcy? Would you mind telling my dad and Jake that I might be busy for a little and they shouldn’t wait for me? I’ll meet them at the restaurant just as soon as we’re finished here.’ She felt bad asking Marcy to find her family, to force what would surely be an awkward encounter on her – not to mention the certainty they’d be standing with Todd, waiting for Charlie – but she had no choice: once she officially gave her consent to the test, it was considered in progress, and Charlie wouldn’t be allowed use of her cell phone until she’d successfully peed in the cup.
‘Of course,’ Marcy said, hoisting her tote bag over her shoulder. ‘And congrats again, Charlie. You do deserve this.’ It wasn’t until she walked out that Charlie realized she hadn’t asked Marcy anything about her or her husband. It was strange to realize that inquiring about their efforts to have a baby was now definitely off-limits.
‘Are you ready to try, Ms Silver?’ The woman’s voice was gruff, bored.
‘Please call me Charlie. I’m sorry, I already blanked on your name. We are about to go into a bathroom stall together, so we should probably be on a first-name basis.’
‘My name is Theresa Baird. You can call me Ms Baird.’
The woman was busy unscrewing a wide lid from a plastic cup. ‘Got it. Ms Baird it is. And, yes, I’m ready.’
Charlie walked toward the first stall. She crouched over the toilet and faced Ms Baird, who stood just outside of the stall with the door open, and accepted the plastic cup from her. She used both hands to hold it in place underneath the towel that was still wrapped around her chest, but Ms Baird coughed.
‘I do apologize, but I must be able to see the cup during the urine deposit.’
Charlie looked up, still half standing and half squatting while holding the cup to her body. ‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay, then.’ She allowed her towel to drop to the floor. Holding the cup back in place, Charlie tried her best to relax. Finally, after what felt like minutes, she felt the cup warm to her hand. Taking care not to splash either one of them, Charlie held it aloft, victorious. And then she saw: her urine was completely clear. It could have been a container of water.
‘Damn,’ she said.
‘I’ll wait out here while you clean up.’
When Charlie emerged a moment later, relieved to be back in a towel, Ms Baird was making notes in a small leather-bound book. ‘We’ll have to wait,’ she murmured, not looking up.
‘Still no good, is it?’ Charlie asked. ‘Is it okay if I get dressed?’
‘Yes,’ the woman said through pursed lips.
It took all Charlie’s energy not to snap back something obnoxious. She tried to remind herself that this woman couldn’t possibly enjoy her job, which basically amounted to spending her days in toilet stalls with strangers all over the world, so she took a deep breath and headed toward her locker. Ms Baird followed and watched, but kept a respectful distance while Charlie pulled on a tracksuit. She would put on a real outfit when the whole ordeal was over.
‘I’m just going to do my makeup, okay?’
Ms Baird followed her into the sink area and looked through some paperwork while Charlie blow-dried her hair straight. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, but she was careful not to eat anything because then she’d be thirsty, and drinking anything at all right now would only succeed in prolonging the whole miserable experience. She glanced at her watch: she was supposed to be arriving at FIG right then.
Charlie tried again, but to no avail.
‘Don’t worry, it will happen,’ Ms Baird said. It was the first remotely kind or reassuring thing she’d uttered.
Her cell phone rang. Both she and Ms Baird saw Dad flash on her screen.
Charlie watched it ring three times, knowing she wasn’t permitted to pick it up, but on the fourth ring Ms Baird motioned for Charlie to answer.
‘I doubt Karina would agree with you.’ Charlie’s voice caught.
Marcy understood immediately. ‘Oh, Charlie, don’t do that to yourself. You and I both know that the game has changed. How many times have we talked about it? A million? You had the mental strength to come back from a first-set loss, you dominated the second-set tiebreaker, and you beat her fair and square in the third. The rest is just noise.’
Charlie knew her ex-coach well enough to know that she didn’t mean everything she was saying. Yes, Charlie had shown great mental toughness, and, yes, she had definitely demonstrated impressive strategy and strokes on the court, but she knew in her heart of hearts that she shouldn’t have gone ahead with that final serve until Karina was in position. No matter how sleazy her opponent’s intention had been. Charlie could have won it anyway – would have won it – and she wouldn’t be standing there right then, naked in a sterile locker room, too ashamed to enjoy the victory that she really did deserve. And Marcy knew it, too.
The door to the locker room opened. Charlie and Marcy exchanged looks just before the doping official appeared before them, a stout woman in warm-up pants and a pullover that read TENNIS ANTI-DOPING PROGRAMME. ‘Charlotte Silver? I’m Theresa Baird, and I’m with the Programme. I am here to advise you that we will be performing a standard urinalysis test to ensure your player eligibility remains intact. Do I have your consent?’
Her consent. As if she had a choice in the matter! And this timing of a post-match test was clearly her punishment for missing that early-morning test the day she’d slept in Marco’s hotel room. Once a player missed a test during the hour they had designated as an acceptable testing window, the officials could show up literally anytime and anywhere: a restaurant, a Broadway show, the airport, a friend’s apartment, a family reunion. If you didn’t agree to take the test at the moment of the tester’s choosing, it was reported as a fail and you were immediately penalized as though you were guilty of doping.
Charlie wouldn’t argue. ‘I consent. But I have to tell you, I’m not sure I can pee right now.’
The woman nodded. She knew it would be the case immediately following a long match. ‘Shall we try? Then, if it doesn’t work, you can get dressed and we’ll wait.’
Marcy raised her eyebrows at Charlie as if to say, Wow, that sounds like a great time. Charlie offered her a half wave and mouthed a thank-you. ‘Marcy? Would you mind telling my dad and Jake that I might be busy for a little and they shouldn’t wait for me? I’ll meet them at the restaurant just as soon as we’re finished here.’ She felt bad asking Marcy to find her family, to force what would surely be an awkward encounter on her – not to mention the certainty they’d be standing with Todd, waiting for Charlie – but she had no choice: once she officially gave her consent to the test, it was considered in progress, and Charlie wouldn’t be allowed use of her cell phone until she’d successfully peed in the cup.
‘Of course,’ Marcy said, hoisting her tote bag over her shoulder. ‘And congrats again, Charlie. You do deserve this.’ It wasn’t until she walked out that Charlie realized she hadn’t asked Marcy anything about her or her husband. It was strange to realize that inquiring about their efforts to have a baby was now definitely off-limits.
‘Are you ready to try, Ms Silver?’ The woman’s voice was gruff, bored.
‘Please call me Charlie. I’m sorry, I already blanked on your name. We are about to go into a bathroom stall together, so we should probably be on a first-name basis.’
‘My name is Theresa Baird. You can call me Ms Baird.’
The woman was busy unscrewing a wide lid from a plastic cup. ‘Got it. Ms Baird it is. And, yes, I’m ready.’
Charlie walked toward the first stall. She crouched over the toilet and faced Ms Baird, who stood just outside of the stall with the door open, and accepted the plastic cup from her. She used both hands to hold it in place underneath the towel that was still wrapped around her chest, but Ms Baird coughed.
‘I do apologize, but I must be able to see the cup during the urine deposit.’
Charlie looked up, still half standing and half squatting while holding the cup to her body. ‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay, then.’ She allowed her towel to drop to the floor. Holding the cup back in place, Charlie tried her best to relax. Finally, after what felt like minutes, she felt the cup warm to her hand. Taking care not to splash either one of them, Charlie held it aloft, victorious. And then she saw: her urine was completely clear. It could have been a container of water.
‘Damn,’ she said.
‘I’ll wait out here while you clean up.’
When Charlie emerged a moment later, relieved to be back in a towel, Ms Baird was making notes in a small leather-bound book. ‘We’ll have to wait,’ she murmured, not looking up.
‘Still no good, is it?’ Charlie asked. ‘Is it okay if I get dressed?’
‘Yes,’ the woman said through pursed lips.
It took all Charlie’s energy not to snap back something obnoxious. She tried to remind herself that this woman couldn’t possibly enjoy her job, which basically amounted to spending her days in toilet stalls with strangers all over the world, so she took a deep breath and headed toward her locker. Ms Baird followed and watched, but kept a respectful distance while Charlie pulled on a tracksuit. She would put on a real outfit when the whole ordeal was over.
‘I’m just going to do my makeup, okay?’
Ms Baird followed her into the sink area and looked through some paperwork while Charlie blow-dried her hair straight. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, but she was careful not to eat anything because then she’d be thirsty, and drinking anything at all right now would only succeed in prolonging the whole miserable experience. She glanced at her watch: she was supposed to be arriving at FIG right then.
Charlie tried again, but to no avail.
‘Don’t worry, it will happen,’ Ms Baird said. It was the first remotely kind or reassuring thing she’d uttered.
Her cell phone rang. Both she and Ms Baird saw Dad flash on her screen.
Charlie watched it ring three times, knowing she wasn’t permitted to pick it up, but on the fourth ring Ms Baird motioned for Charlie to answer.
