Part Twenty-Seven
Wednesday 4th July 2007
"Morning, David," chirped Liz with a happy smile, as she entered the practice courts the next morning.
"Morning, Liz. You sound rather chipper today," observed her coach from the side of the court, where he was organising paperwork, while simultaneously thumbing through his diary.
"Yeah," she grinned at him, placing her racket bag down on one of the benches. "I think things are finally starting to look up."
"You and Max?" he hazarded a guess.
She nodded, as she rifled through her things, "We talked yesterday and we're working things out."
"That's good to hear," agreed David. "Speaking of Max, you seen him yet this morning?"
"No, not yet," she shook her head. "Maybe he got stuck in traffic or somethi–"
A sudden murmur of voices near the entrance to the practice courts caught her ear and she turned to see what was going on. There was a crowd of young, giggling girls, most of them clutching a pen and paper in their hands, as they struggled to catch a glimpse of whoever was trying to make their way into the practice court area. She didn't have to guess who it was for long, though, as a familiar dark head became just visible in the throng of people.
Liz watched as Max tried his best to manoeuvre himself through the crowd, without seeming impatient or rude. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she rolled her eyes as she saw him put on his best grin for the young teenagers and flirted with them playfully. No matter how serious and uncomfortable with attention he was normally, he definitely knew how to turn it out for his fans.
At one time they would both have been stopped, Liz getting attention from her male fans, while Max fended off the female interest; but now things were different. Contrary to just a few years ago, Max was the bigger star now – the number one male player in the world – and he got a great deal of attention these days. Liz, on the other hand, had been able to enjoy a relatively peaceful few weeks here in London. Her absence from the tennis world had caused her previous fans to move on to other players and for once the focus was no longer all on her.
Her gaze followed Max as he finished signing autographs and then made his way onto the courts. He looked up and caught her eye, a small, even tentative, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as if he wasn't quite sure whether to remain stoic or just smile fully at her.
"Hi," he greeted softly, once he'd reached her side and had placed his bag next to hers on the bench.
"Morning," replied Liz, suddenly feeling a little uncertain around him, as he concentrated on pulling his racket and a tube of tennis balls out of his large training bag.
"Hey, David," he acknowledged their doubles coach, who was flicking through a folder of paperwork.
"Morning, Max," David nodded as he closed the folder and put it aside, before clapping his hands together abruptly. "Okay, right, we don't have that much time for practice this morning, since Max is due on court at 12 for his quarter-final match, so let's get started, shall we?"
The practice session got off to a good start, but it wasn't long before Liz began to tire. Not wishing to worry either David or Max, she tried to ignore the fact that her head felt light and her hands had begun to shake slightly. She was determined, now more than ever, that this illness would not get the better of her, so she continued to play, even when she started missing the easy shots and her legs decided not to cooperate with her, causing the odd stumble. In fact, it was only when Max called for a break as he marched over to her, took her by the elbow and led her to the bench that she stopped.
"Hey!" she protested as he placed his hands on her shoulders and made her sit down, before kneeling in front of her and forcing her to look at him.
"Don't 'hey' me," he scolded firmly. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm practicing for our match this afternoon," she replied shortly. "Why, what are you doing?"
He shook his head, "Liz, you're overdoing it. I was watching you out there, you're fumbling." He sighed, "You need to stop pushing yourself so hard."
Liz set her jaw as she raised her eyes upwards, shaking her head in denial, "I'm just fine, Max."
He scoffed, "No, you're not. Anyone can see that."
Liz shot him a hurt look, as if to say, 'what do you know?'
"Look, Liz," said Max, more softly this time, as his hands came up to rest above her knees. "I know you want to show everyone that you can still do this, but if you're not careful, you're just gonna end up in hospital again. You've gotta take things slower."
As he spoke, Liz found her eyes wandering down to her lap, as frustrated tears began to form in the corner of her eye. He was right, she knew that, but she couldn't let the rest of the world discover that she wasn't 100% healthy; she just couldn't.
"Liz?" wondered Max, as he slid a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up to face him. "Hey, come on, don't cry."
"What was I thinking?" wondered Liz helplessly. "I should have known I'd never be able to play as well I used to."
"Hey," murmured Max softly, "It's not like you can't play tennis at all. You're still pretty good, you know? But maybe you just rushed back into things too fast and your body's not handling it that well."
"Yeah, maybe…."
"Look, we're gonna get back up and practice some more and then this afternoon you and I are gonna get out there on court and do the best we can. All you have to do is play within your ability, okay? That's all you can do," he told her reassuringly.
"Yeah…" nodded Liz, feeling a little more confident now. "Okay. Play my best… right."
"There we go," Max smiled, as he stood up and held a hand out to her. "Come on, you can do it."
With a grateful smile, Liz slid her hand into his and allowed him to lead her back onto the court. They might have a long way to go in their relationship, but at least they could work together again now.
Liz watched from the VIP box as Max warmed up on Centre Court for his Quarter-final match. She couldn't help but admit that he looked great out there in his Nike-sponsored white tennis shirt and shorts combo. She was so proud of him, of the fact that he'd finally made it to the top… something he'd been dreaming about since he was five years old.
As the first set began and Max got off to a great start, Liz realised that despite everything that had happened over the last two years and even though her concerns and worries from that morning were still plaguing her, she was glad she'd come back home. Now that the truth was out and they were on good terms again, Liz found herself wondering why exactly she'd stayed away from him for so long. Why had she ever believed that she couldn't confide in him, that he wouldn't have understood her reasons for wanting children so early. Of course he would have supported her; that was just who he was, she always known that, but back then, she had been so blinded by her illness and fear of the future that she had forgotten that.
The match progressed and Liz lost herself in the game, the fluidity of Max's strong forehand shots, and the gracefulness with which he covered the length and width of the court, causing a peaceful feeling to settle over her. It was a fairly effortless win for Max, as he beat the younger, less experienced player in three sets and the ease with which he hit the winning shots allowed Liz to relax and lessen her worry over their doubles match later in the day.
When Max came off court after signing a few autographs and chatting with the crowd, Liz made sure she was waiting inside the players' section for him. She gave him a congratulatory hug and praised him for making it to the semi-final, commenting that it was a long time coming and that perhaps this would be the year he finally became Wimbledon Champion.
As they prepared to go on court for their mixed match two hours later, Liz vowed two things: one, that she would take Max's advice and not over-exert herself, and two that over the next few days and weeks, she would do everything in her power to show Max how truly sorry she was and to make it up to him.
TBC…
