When Yoko didn’t answer right away, Lily said, “I guess Miami would be warmer than here. Sunnier.”
Yoko clicked the ends of her chopsticks together thoughtfully and raised her eyebrow. “I have lived on this property here on Nantucket since the autumn of 1995. Can you believe it?”
Lily leaned back in her chair, trying to fathom the year 1995. It was a full seven years before her birth.
“As you know, I moved here to train with Kendall’s father,” Yoko said. “Coach lived here in the big house with his wife, Kathy. I lived out there.” She nodded toward the pool house. “It was the biggest place I’d ever seen. Empty and strange. In Japan, we don’t have very much space, and I found myself unable to fill it very well. But I threw myself into training. Hours and hours a day. Running. Weightlifting. Hitting tennis ball after tennis ball. A tennis court is attached to the house, if you can believe it.”
Lily could, if only because she hadn’t yet fathomed the limits of this place. “Were you homesick?” she asked, before she could stop herself.
Yoko gave her an eagle-eyed stare that almost stopped Lily in her tracks. But a moment later, she nodded. “I was the loneliest I’ve ever been,” she whispered. “But that Thanksgiving, I met Kendall, and I let myself fall in love with him.”
“You let yourself?” Lily said. It was an interesting way of putting it. She wanted Yoko to elaborate.
“He showed me a world I’d never seen before.” Yoko picked up another piece of raw fish with her chopsticks. “He took me to wonderful American parties and introduced me to all his wealthy American friends. He talked about how great his life was going to be, and then he started including me in that story. How great our future was going to be! How wealthy! His confidence fed my own. I found myself winning after that. Whereas beforeI had been a flailing rising star, I was suddenly launched into the spotlight, on the cover of major sports magazines, and celebrated around the world. I won championship after championship. According to Kendall and me, nothing could get in our way.”
Lily had never heard Yoko talk about her own career like this. But there was something so ominous about how she said it, as though she were talking about herself and Kendall as villains of a story she’d lost control of. Lily had to fight her desire to get up and hug her future mother-in-law.
For a little while, Yoko was quiet, her eyes to the dark water outside. The day Lily had tried on wedding dresses now felt like many years ago, rather than a little more than a month. Winter was upon them, urgent and foreboding.
“Do you and Kendall talk about that time in your lives?” Lily asked tentatively.
“We haven’t talked about the past in a long time,” Yoko breathed.
Lily wondered whether it was too painful to bring up, or whether Kendall was no longer interested in the story that had brought them here. More than that, she wondered what kept Kendall in Miami for such long stretches at a time—and if Yoko and Kendall were still in love with one another.
She had a hunch that Yoko was trying to impart wisdom to Lily. Maybe it was wisdom about marriage. Perhaps it was wisdom about the choices we make and the paths we take.
Before Lily could push it further, Yoko sealed their conversation with a final comment. “I’ve won and lost throughout my entire life,” she said. “I’ve been at the top of championship podiums. I’ve held heavy trophies. I’ve also lost my fair share of games. Through it all, I’ve realized that loneliness doesn’t come from winning and losing. It comes from feeling like we’re living our lives on our own. At the end of theday, my rooms are filled with my trophies, but there’s no one here to share those memories with.”
Lily’s voice shook as she said, “I’m here, Yoko. You can share your memories with me.”
But Yoko was lost in thought, dropping back through time, her eyes glassy.
Chapter Fifteen
Summer 1999
At the age of twenty-five, Yoko secured her fourth Wimbledon victory. It was the second time she’d defeated Emilia Lewandowski on the Wimbledon court, and as the two women got down from their first- and second-place podiums, they turned to shake hands in a way that spoke of a longtime and unspoken understanding. At the top of their games, they underwent unspeakable pressure. All eyes from Poland, Japan, and the rest of the world were upon them, gauging everything from what they wore to who they dated to how they moved through the world.
“You played incredibly today,” Yoko told Emilia, and it was true. Emilia had forced Yoko from one end of the court to the other, so much so that now, Yoko’s thighs screamed.
Emilia scoffed and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “You won fair and square.” Her smile was crooked and exhausted. She held Yoko’s hand for a split-second longer than necessary,drawing her closer. “Would you meet me for a drink after this? I think we’re staying in the same hotel.”
Yoko grimaced. She’d promised her parents, Coach, Kathy, and Kendall a celebratory dinner after this of Japanese food, yet again, as was traditional after a Wimbledon win.
“One drink,” Emilia said. “I need to talk to you.”
“I don’t want the press to see us,” Yoko said, letting her hand drop from Emilia’s. “But you can come to my room if you want,” Yoko told Emilia, giving her the room number and reminding her she didn’t have much time.
“You must celebrate,” Emilia agreed. “I remember. I used to win Wimbledon all the time.” She winked to let Yoko understand that she was teasing her. And then, she sauntered her way off the court, letting her thick blond hair out of its braid.
After an exhaustive number of interviews, a big, performative hug from Kendall in front of many cameras, in-depth discussions about the game with Coach Reynolds, and a brief hello to her parents, Yoko took a cab back to her hotel, went to her room, and lay on the bed, still in her tennis whites. Her heart finally calmed to a soft click. She’d nearly forgotten about her promise to Emilia when Emilia knocked. Yoko limped to the door, opened it, and found her competitor in a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, her blond hair still wet from the shower.
“I’m early,” she said.
“No, it’s okay.” Yoko ushered her in. “But I don’t have long.”
Emilia entered and removed a bottle of wine from a bag around her shoulder. She poured two glasses and handed Yoko one. Together, they clinked, then laughed at one another.
