The Spanish woman sent a loose and easy second serve over the net. Yoko loped over to it, her mind sort of elsewhere. She knew she could hit a ball like this in her sleep. But as she attacked it, something in her front leg cracked, and she fell forward and then to the side. She sprawled on the court, her legs and arms akimbo. Pain ricocheted up her leg.
The crowd cried out, then fell silent, which was all Yoko needed to hear. It was serious. It was more than she could comprehend.
In Japanese, as softly as she could, she said, “Please, no.” But when she forced herself to look at her leg, she saw that her foot was crooked, and part of her lower leg was twisted the wrong direction. She scrunched her face and tried to prop herself up. The last thing she wanted was to be carried off the court. Unfortunately, that was precisely what happened, with Coach coming forward and ordering her to stay still. The medical team arrived shortly thereafter and put her on a stretcher. Withinhours, she was on an operating table, at the mercy of a team of doctors who pledged to “save her game.”
The Spanish woman won by default.
When Yoko woke up after the surgery, she found Kendall in a heap by her bed. His face was etched with pain, and he looked underfed. He kissed her hand and said, “I was so worried.”
Yoko exploded with love for him. Against her better judgment, she burst into tears. “It’s over, isn’t it?” she asked.
“No! No,” Kendall assured her. “Nobody’s saying it’s over.”
But Yoko could feel that it was over in her bones. This was confirmed six months later, when she was cleared to run again. The game wasn’t hers any longer. She didn’t feel it in her swing. She didn’t feel it in her reflexes, and she didn’t feel it when the ball hit the racket. Coach was already training three younger recruits at a gym near Boston and spending half the time in the city, half on the island. It was clear he was done with her.
Around this time, Kendall convinced Yoko to move into the main house with him and his mother, abandoning the pool house and her home of the past five years. With the internet becoming more and more of a game changer, he wasn’t needed often in Manhattan. Kathy was lonely without Coach around and doted on Yoko and Kendall, baking for them and making elaborate meals. Yoko sensed how sorry Kathy was for Yoko’s failed career. Yoko often hated looking at the trophies, as they reminded her of better times in her life, when she’d felt so sure of herself and her purpose. Now, she watched television with Kathy and waited for Kendall to finish work for the day so they could walk along the beach, go sailing, or drink wine on the veranda.
It was when Yoko discovered she was pregnant that she wrote Akira the first letter. Sick with morning nausea, she sat in the library of the mansion and watched herself make Japanese characters for the first time in what felt like years.
Akira,
I have thought of you endlessly over the years. I felt that if I worked hard at forgetting you, I could. Hard work has always seemed second-nature to me. Hard work has always led to someplace else. But despite all the work I put into forgetting you, you’ve felt closer and closer over the years. It’s like you’re right here, sometimes, living in my thoughts, watching my life through my own eyes.
I’ve looked up your career a few times over the years. I’ve watched a few documentaries and noted how you’ve grown and changed as an artist. I’m so impressed by you and your creative spirit. I miss you in my life.
I have just learned I’m pregnant with an American baby. I have not yet shared this news with my boyfriend. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m worried he doesn’t want it. But we’ve been together for nearly five years. I think he loves me. I have to believe that.
I hope you are well and happy wherever you are. Give my best to Himari. Tell her the better woman won.
See? I always make everything into a competition.
Love Always, Yoko
But after Yoko finished the letter, she folded it up and tucked it into a notebook. She would not be sending such a revealing and open-hearted letter, not to Akira and not to anyone else. Nobody around here could speak Japanese, so nobody would ever read it and know what she said. One day, maybe, she would burn it.
After a few staggered breaths, she stood and went to find Kendall. It was time to let him know she was pregnant. It was time to step into the next era of her life: motherhood.
Chapter Sixteen
Present Day
It was the day after Lily’s mysterious dinner with Yoko, and Lily was at the Sutton Book Club, wiping down tables and preparing her mother’s restaurant for a whole night of reservations. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched through the window as, down below, Mick Hamilton got out of his car, strode up the porch steps, and entered the library part of the big Victorian house. She hadn’t heard from him since he’d fired her a couple of days ago, but she’d thought about him more than she’d planned to. Her ears craned to hear his voice down the steps. When she didn’t, she dropped her rag into the basin of suds and tiptoed downstairs to find him herself.
Mick hovered over a table of books with a stack of three under his arm. Lily crept up behind him, unsure of how to interrupt his train of thought. He looked hyperfocused, as if he were searching for something. Maybe a particular book. But before she could think of what to say, the front door burst open to reveal her grandmother, gasping.
“It’s Yoko,” Esme said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Lily, come quick.”
Mick turned to find Lily, like a creep standing behind him, her mouth ajar. His eyes spun.
“I wanted to say hi,” Lily explained, lunging back for the corner rack to get her coat.
“But you have to run,” Mick said.
“I’m sorry. I’ll catch you later.” Lily grimaced, shoved an arm into the sleeve of her coat, and chased her grandmother, demanding answers. “What’s going on?”
Grandma Esme was pale and red-eyed. “I ran into her at the grocery store,” she explained. “She was talking to herself, but at first I thought she was talking to me. So I stopped and said hello and realized she wasn’t all there.” She pointed at her temple, then unlocked her car and gestured for Lily to get in. “Luckily, your Aunt Valerie was with me and took her to the hospital. I called you a few times. Didn’t you hear?”
Lily recalled putting her phone on silent in preparation for the night at the restaurant. She cursed herself, remembering that her own father had died during another night at a different restaurant. It felt like an echo of the worst night of her life.
