“I don’t know, Dad, you need to ask him.”
I move to put the headphones on, but he doesn’t stop looking at me. “Are the two of you dating?” he says.
I suddenly have the burning desire to eject myself from the plane. “We’re not doing this, Dad,” I say. “We’ve never done it. Let’s not start now.”
“But you are dating him?”
I shake my head and close my eyes. “I’m not dating anyone. You can pretty much always assume that.”
“Don’t be that way, pichona. Please keep your heart open. Please don’t close it. Please.”
“Dad,” I say, holding my breath, losing patience. “Let me watch my movie now.” That boy from What’s Eating Gilbert Grape is in it too, and he is so good. I really want to watch this. The only thing that saves me is the woman next to my father, who finally speaks up.
“Excuse me,” she says to him. She looks to be in her sixties, and she is gorgeous. She has big brown eyes and long eyelashes. “Are you Javier Soto?”
I turn away from them, but I’m too nosy not to eavesdrop.
“I am,” my father says, putting on his showstopper smile. He would get recognized a lot on the circuit in the seventies. He’d be the center of attention, other coaches and tennis parents and players trying to corner him for advice. When he did his book tour, he was the man of the hour. Everyone wanted to get a little bit of whatever gold dust he had to spread around. It doesn’t happen as often anymore.
He sits a bit straighter, pulls back his shoulders, and puts his hand out to her. “Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Coral,” she says. “I’m a big fan.”
“Of my daughter’s?” he asks.
“Well, yes, but of you too.”
“Of me?” he says.
“Yeah, the Jaguar.”
My father blushes. He blushes.
“I’m a tennis player,” she continues. “I have been all my life. I’ve always loved what you said about a classic, well-executed game. I loved your book, Beautiful Fundamentals.”
“Well, thank you,” my dad says. “I appreciate it.”
I finally put my headphones on and watch the movie, though I’ve missed a good twenty minutes of the beginning. A few times, I look over to see my dad and Coral laughing together. Or talking back and forth, Coral even touching his forearm.
When the flight attendants serve the meals, I see them trade salt and butter. He gives her his dessert. She smiles sweetly; there is something girlish about the way she accepts it.
At some point after my movie ends, they start playing something called 3 Ninjas Knuckle Up, and I doze off to sleep. But I wake up a few hours later, when we are about to land, and I see that my father and Coral are still talking.
She asks him something that I cannot make out for the life of me, and my dad puts his hand on her hand for the briefest of seconds and gives a very slight shake of the head.
As we all stand up to get off the plane, Coral nods at my father and says, “Goodbye, Javier, it’s been a pleasure,” and then walks away.
Soon, my father is walking faster than me off the concourse and into the airport. I catch up with him quickly, though. “What’s the deal?” I say.
He looks at me. “What deal?”
“Did you ask Coral out or what?”
My father scoffs. “No, I did not ask her out.”
“Well, why not? Weren’t you just telling me to open my heart?”
“I was talking about you, not me,” he says as we get onto the escalator. “I have had my love.”
* * *
—
When we get to the hotel, the concierge gives me a message from Gwen, telling me to call her, no matter the time. I look at my watch. It’s almost midnight in Paris but only afternoon in L.A.
My father and I walk up to my room. I find the phone and call.
“Hi,” Ali says. “One second.”
I put it on speaker as Gwen picks up the line.
“So,” Gwen says.
It’s either that Elite Gold is pulling out or Nicki Chan is back in. And I’m not sure which I dread more.
“Chan,” Gwen says. “She’s playing the French Open.”
Ah, fuck. That’s the one I hate more. I look at my father, who looks back at me.
“You’ve got this,” Gwen says. “Clay is her surface, but you can take her down.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah. All right, talk soon.”
I hang up the phone and say, “If she takes the French Open…before I’ve been able to win one…”