“Hi, Coach Drew,” Darla chirped, knocking me out of my stupor.
“Hey, Darla, you ready?”
My daughter stood before me in crisp tennis whites. Her mom stood to the side in yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, no makeup, and messy hair.
“Yep.” Darla bounced from foot to foot, her pink shoes sparkling.
“Why don’t you do some jumping jacks and warm up while we wait for the others?”
“Mom said we were early, but I didn’t care.” She dropped her racquet on the court and jumped into a smallXand back.
“Do twenty, and I’ll be back and look at your grip.” I walked toward Jules, who looked exhausted. “You okay?”
“Yep.” She stifled a yawn.
“Why don’t you go up to the restaurant and get some coffee? She’ll be fine.”
We both turned and looked at Darla, who was counting out loud.
“Fifteen, sixteen ...”
“It’s okay.” Jules stared at the green concrete court.
“Done.” Darla ran over and tapped my elbow. “Done, Drew!”
“Darla, tell your mom you’re good down here, and she should go get some coffee.”
“Yeah, Mom.”
The tiny person twirled back and forth in half circles, her hair flying in the air. If looks could kill, I’d be dead by Jules.
“Let me put your hair up, Dar.”
“Mom, it hurts. You pull it too tight.”
Something told me I needed to back up Jules. “Darla, you have to be able to see. You’re playing with the big kids, and I need your A game.”
“Okay. Can you put my hair up, Mommy?”
And just like that, it was thirty–love. Me–Jules.
“Great, so go grab some coffee and a newspaper, and I’ll run Darla up to the café after the lesson.” Without giving Jules a chance to respond, I turned to Darla. “Let’s go check out your grip.”
As I finished speaking, a bunch of boys made their way onto the court, laughing and burping.
“Good morning, boys. We have someone new joining us. This is Darla.”
Seth, one of the older boys, scoffed at me. “A girl?”
“Girls can play tennis too. My mom played,” Darla said stubbornly, defending herself.
I bit back a smile. “It’s true. Now, let’s hit the baseline.”
“She your cousin or something? She looks like you,” Seth said.
I shook my head. “No, she’s not my cousin. Now, hit the baseline or you’re running suicides.”
Jules
