XXII. ALL COMES DOWN.

2019.

Patrick and his team — (well it wasn't necessarily a team since it consisted of Carmen, Aaliyah, and their bodyguard) walked towards the locker rooms. There's a small group of paparazzi, who tried to get a candid look at the superstar turned coach but as much as Carmen would love to indulge in that she didn't have the time.

The paparazzi seem to only grow more eager by the minute snapping pictures as they pass. Marcus, their security guard hired specifically for this, keeps people from getting too close, but Patrick and Carmen still waved without stopping as they walked.

Inside the locker room, Carmen and Patrick sit quietly. Aaliyah per usual excused herself due to the importance of a call which left the coach to deal with her protégé. The vibe is focused, and meditative: a boxer before a fight.

This evening was the final match — the last match that'll determine who walks out a winner and who walks out a loser. Carmen was more than happy to come to reach the end of Challenger. She decided not to stress too much on the outcome since she'd only been there outside of a player's perspective for such a short moment. All she could do was hope for the best.

"You good?" Asks Carmen her eyes naturally taking note of the way Patrick's leg moved up and down. A habit most people did out of nervousness or a subtle tic.

"Yeah. You?" Patrick made sure to ask her that since she'd just announced that she was his coach out of all people and with the pressure and countless eyes on her — he had a feeling that it would be a lot.

"I'm okay. What we need to be focusing on is you hopefully winning that trophy." She remains calm and collected knowing that if she freaked out then it'll transfer onto Patrick possibly.

There's a sudden knock on the door. Both adults look up and see a woman in a headset standing there. "We're ready for you. Good luck."

Sighing, Patrick stands up, adjusting the straps on his bag before walking towards the door. Matching his steps, Carmen opens the door and soon enough they walk together.

As they neared the infamous entrance that all tennis players had to walk through she turned to him, stopping. "You ready?"

He nods.

Carmen smiles, "Good. Now go show 'em who you're made of."

• • •

It was now the match point and if you have a basic understanding of tennis you know that it is what'll determine who'll win the match by winning the next point. It came with a level of intensity that made even Carmen out of all people shiver with anticipation. Rubbing her glossy lips together, she watches the match from the stands, her brown eyes glancing back at forth between two players as it was Patrick's turn to serve.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Tashi watching too — well one seat away from each other. They've already dealt with their issues, the only thing left now was to watch them play.

Down on the court, Patrick gets himself into position. Throwing up the ball he serves it with a great amount of force only for it to go directly into the net. Not once but twice.

"Thirty - forty." Announces the umpire which only makes Carmen mentally wince. There are some gasps in the audience since some weren't expecting it and she could agree wholeheartedly.

Since Patrick gained two outs despite the reset, it gave Art a point. So now Patrick was thirty, with Art being forty.

With her arms crossed, the soft velvety fabric of her blouse pressed against her skin, the feeling alone made her feel suffocated. But still, Carmen remained calm clapping along with the others so she wouldn't appear too distant.

Patrick looks at Tashi and then at Carmen.

Patrick takes a deep breath, bounces the ball, and pauses in the middle of his service motion. He looks at Art, crouched down, ready to win the match. He looks over at Tashi, holding her breath. He looks at Carmen who urges for him to do something.

Carmen glances at Tashi, and she can't help but feel as though something is going to happen.

He looks back at Art, who's now wondering what's taking him so long to serve. He starts the motion over again. He stops.

"Time violation. Warning, Zweig."

Patrick nods at the Umpire. He nods to himself. Going into his service motion again, it appears as though he'll do it but this time, he does Art's service motion, just like when they were seventeen.

A gasp escapes Carmen's throat, glancing at Art for any possible reaction. He's doing his tic, playing throughout her mind. She'd seen him do it a few times whenever they had practice but could never understand what it meant between them both. Maybe she was about to find out now.

It's a clean, un-returnable ace.

Art doesn't even move for it. He just stands there.

"Deuce." Continued the Umpire.

Neither man moves. They stare at each other across the net like gunslingers in a Western movie. Tashi looks back and forth between both of them, having no idea what's going on. Carmen does the same which then leads to both women glancing at each other puzzled.

"Fuck off." Turning a heel, Art pauses for a moment to think. Realizing what just happened and what Patrick told him non-verbally, he knew that he shouldn't be pissed but was. 

"Code violation. Verbal obscenity." Warned the Umpire. "Point penalty, Donaldson. Advantage, Zweig."

There are some grumbles in the crowd, and almost instantly Carmen has her eyes set on Art. He glances at her for just a moment and there is a small glimmer of pity in her eyes before it settles to neutrality.

Patrick moves over for his next serve. Art doesn't move. Tashi looks at him. He looks back at her, totally cold.

There are some grumbles and scattered applause in the crowd.

"Final set. Tie break. Donaldson to serve."

Art looks over at Tashi, who is looking at Patrick, all while looking at Carmen. Tashi feels Art's eyes on her and looks over at her husband. He can see now that she understands exactly what's happening.

Carmen who'd already gotten the memo taps her nails against her seat all while mumbling, "Shit." Patrick told Art. Shit.

He turns his attention to Patrick, and they stand looking at each other as they're given towels to wipe themselves down.

Art receives balls for his serve. Patrick crouches down and readies himself for the return. Both men look at each other across the net: Let's play now. Art bounces the ball and goes into his service motion. Like a bee, the ball comes pointed right at Patrick like he's trying to take his head off.

Patrick of course dodges it. He knew that he got a reaction out of Art and maybe that's what he wanted the entire time. It was amusing.

Art smiles. So does Patrick.

Art sends in another one, just as hot. This time it's good.

Patrick pounces on the return, and they rally. It's clear immediately that both of them are playing their best tennis in years, the best tennis of their lives. They smack the ball at each other furiously, vengefully, looking wildly alive.

As they traded blows, in the stands stood Tashi and Carmen, both women's heads swiveling back and forth between the two of them. Gradually, the look of anxiety that plagued their face turned into one of exhilaration.

Carmen's eyes widened, teeth gritting as the feeling of adrenaline burst throughout her, something was going to happen she could feel it.

Just then Art leaps into the air in an attempt to hit the ball. Looking up at him Patrick couldn't believe what he was seeing. Maybe it was pure adrenaline but Art was moving over the net. Before he can fall or do any bodily harm, Patrick catches him.

After facing the intensity of the moment, it seems that what was once a moment of intensity was transformed into what appeared to be the meeting of two old friends. Suddenly, it turned into a hug, the two men embracing each other, little chuckles escaping their lips as they embraced each other.

The crowd erupted into cheers immediately and Tashi and Carmen found themselves leaping to their feet in joy.

"Come on!"

Two words. Different meaning. With one the glee was contagious, while in the other, the shock was palpable.

authors note
Who do you think won the match? And why?