“You know what? I do feel happy. It seems like a weird thingto be celebrating, I know. But I feel like my whole life makes sense now.”
“Well, not your whole life. Remember the skateboard guy your first year of graduate school? There’s no explanation for him and those bleached tips.”
Ellie had laughed and that was the end of the conversation. It’s not that they’d avoided talking about it, more that the fabric of their friendship had absorbed the information just as it had absorbed any other fact about either of them. Unlike receiving a diagnosis for other conditions, where a cure or intervention of some kind was the standard protocol, Ellie was going to go on being Ellie. She’d be better informed, less frustrated, and kinder to herself—but still Ellie.
Of course, when she told her mom and dad, they were confused at first, asking her if there was some kind of medication she needed to take or if they had made some crucial mistake in not recognizing her symptoms when she was little. She’d answeredNoandDefinitely no, deciding that there was no point in shoving her parents headfirst into a ravine of regret. After a couple of weeks, they seemed to get the message—the diagnosis was something that gave Ellie peace, but she would be business-as-usual.
“Speaking of moving on,” Greta began, unable to hide the grin lighting up her already glowing complexion. “Can we talk about the Cris thing? Just a little? I have about thirty-seven romantic tropes formed in my head, and I want to know which one to obsess over. Is he pining for you? Are you planning on fake dating? Will there be only one bed at some point this summer? Wait. Can we get him in a motorcycle club with a leather-pants requirement for membership?”
“Do you need to sit down? I think the heat is getting to you,” Elliesaid, pulling Greta under the shade of the porticoes. “Do you want some water?”
“Don’t you worry about me, I’m as fresh as a daisy,” Greta insisted, startling a black-and-white cat that had been sitting primly on top of a chest of drawers on display outside a furniture shop. “And don’t tell me you’re worried about his girlfriend because I heard—”
“They broke up,” said Ellie. “I know.”
“They did! It’s fabulous! I mean, thoughts and prayers or whatever, but yay!”
“It doesn’t matter. There is no chance of us having a relationship.”
“Ah!Bugiarda!Will you stop with this? Look, you know where you are, right? This is not the land of ‘Every woman for herself,’ it’s the land of ‘It’s my duty to comment on your personal life.’ I—no,we—have watched the two of you work very hard to not be in each other’s presence for years now and you’re not fooling anyone. There have been birthdays, holidays, weddings, funerals, christenings, award ceremonies, graduations, and who knows what else in the last decade that you two have successfully avoided attending at the same time. No one puts that much effort into anything without it meaning something, no matter how much you want to ignore it.”
“I disagree. Sometimes I put a lot of effort into things I know don’t mean anything. I once spent an entire weekend labeling the clear plastic containers in my pantry as if I’d suddenly become incapable of visually distinguishing lentils from Lucky Charms. Why? No reason! No reason at all!”
“Ugh! Everything means something!” said Greta. “Think about this. If it didn’t mean anything—ifhedidn’t mean anything to you anymore, why would you spend so much energy trying to prove it?”
Ellie opened her mouth, but the only sound that came out was a tiny croak from the back of her throat. Greta pulled out the sides of her dress and bowed her head in a mini curtsy.
“I really don’t love you,” Ellie said, lowering her head to rest on Greta’s shoulder.
“I know,” she said, kissing the top of Ellie’s head. “I know.”
CHAPTER 13
Good Morning.
Our grandparents play doubles at CTC at 10
Thought maybe we watch and talk
Meet there?
Ellie was brushing her teeth when she heard the texts come in from Cris. She scanned them, flinching at the words “our” and “we.” Still, it wasn’t every day she could watch her eighty-two-year-old grandmother playing tennis with her fiancé. Didn’t she promise fun? That was before her brain got the better of her again. She’d spent the whole night thinking about the fact that she still hadn’t told Cris about her show. It’s not that she was hiding it, only that she hadn’t found quite the rightmoment to mention it. But she couldn’t deny that it had created a storm of vulnerability in her head.
OK
Her fingers lingered over the keyboard on her phone for a moment trying to think of something to lighten the tone, but nothing came to mind. “OK” was going to have to do.
The morning was already steamy as Ellie walked into the Chiavari Tennis Club, and all six outdoor red-clay courts were busy with players getting in a match before the afternoon heat made it impossible. Graziella and Simone played doubles with Renata and Ugo every Tuesday morning at ten, so she only had to look for a court with the senior-most occupants. She couldn’t miss Graziella’s white skirt and matching sleeveless shirt with the collar popped, her hair arranged around a white visor in place of her usual sunglasses. As much as Ellie couldn’t imagine playing a sport, her grandmother’s fashionable look almost made her consider making an exception for tennis. Almost.
“Ciao, gioia!” Graziella waved her racket as Ellie made her way to the spectator patio just a few feet above the court. It was set up with café tables and chairs so viewers could get a Spritz along with their up-close-and-personal view of the match, of course. How would one be expected to watch without refreshment? “I didn’t expect to see you here!”
“I didn’t expect to be here.” She reached down to hold her grandmother’s hand on the other side of the green chain-link fence. “But I am glad I am! You look beautiful!”
“Eh! Beauty won’t help me with my backhand!”
“Her backhand is fine. She exaggerates.Ciao,Eleonora!” called Simone.
“Ciao,Simone! You look pretty great, too!” Also in matching tennis whites, he had on a sporty pair of mirrored sunglasses and a blue sweatband around his bald head.
