Page 10 of In a Pickle

“Yes, and he will still play in it this year.”

“You know he wants to play with you. He had arranged for a group of four with Mr. Barker and his son. It will look bad if you are not there.”

James rubbed his temple. Of course, his parents were all about appearances. “I gave Dad my pickleball tournament schedule months ago. He knew I would be out of town this weekend.”

“For pickleball?”

“Yes, for a pickleball tournament.”

“Oh, good. I thought it was for something you couldn’t change, like a wedding. Just cancel your trip and play golf with your dad.”

“I’m not going to cancel. I’ve already paid the registration fee. Plus, I’ve been looking forward to this tournament for months.”

James heard a male voice over the phone, and then a rustling noise, before his father’s voice boomed over the car speakers. “Son, I’ve told you a million times. If it’s a question of money, we can give you some. You don’t have to keep playing pseudo-sport tournaments in godforsaken towns.”

“Dad, I’ve told you, I like playing pickleball. I like the tournaments. They’re competitive but also fun. I have friends on the circuit. I like seeing them. I already canceled a tournament a few months ago to go to the Met Gala with you and mom because Mary Grace was giving me so much shit about it — and look howthat turned out. She complained the whole time that I wasn’t posing for enough pictures, and then she broke up with me soon after.”

“Language,” his mother cautioned.

James sighed, exasperated. “Look, if you want me here for something, we can talk about it when the tournament schedule comes out. But it’s too late to change my schedule for this weekend. I enjoy playing pickleball, and I would really like for you to respect that.”

“I do respect your hobbies,” said his dad after a beat. “I’m glad you have hobbies, son. I wish — I just wish pickleball had a different name. I can’t take it too seriously with that name. It sounds like an inside joke I don’t understand.”

Maybe that’s for a reason, James thought.Some things in life should be fun. But he said, “I’m serious about pickleball, Dad. Thank you for respecting my choice. Also, our PHCC charity event is coming up in a few weeks, and then I’ll be playing at that UHealth golf tournament with you the week after. Mr. Barker and all of your friends will have plenty of time to see me.”

James heard both of his parents sigh. “All right,” his mom finally said.

Chapter 7: Liana

Three weeks later, Liana had successfully made it through three more of James’ pickleball classes. She found that she was able to do most of the activities that the others in the class could do, and it made her feel like recovery might be possible.

Plus, pickleball was… kind of fun? She had finally learned enough of the rules to understand what the hell was going on during the games. She’d assumed the scoring would work like tennis, but it actually was closer to ping pong scoring.

The rules of pickleball were relatively simple. During their classes, they played doubles, two against two. Only the serving team can score points, Liana learned. Games are played to 11 points, and a team must win by 2 points. When a team wins a point, the server switches sides with their partner and serves again, always an underhand serve. The same team continues serving until they lose the point, at which point the opposing team begins serving.

Straightforward enough. The only part Liana had to remember was the kitchen rule, which was pretty much the opposite of tennis. The “kitchen” was the area extending 7 feet from each side of the net. A player could not volley, or hit a ball straight out of the air, while standing in the kitchen.

While Liana occasionally forgot herself and tried to slam the ball while in the kitchen, she generally found the rules easy to follow. James said she was a natural, and it didn’t feel like he was lying.

Pickleball might just be the one positive thing in her life right now, Liana thought. Then she scolded herself.Think positively. You’ll be okay.

She felt herself beginning to spiral and decided she needed a change of scenery. She decided to post up with her laptop in her favorite Pine Heights coffee shop, Panther Coffee. She’d grown up with the Cuban coffee culture and loved her cafecitos and cortaditos, as everyone in Miami did, but she was in the mood for a big cup of black coffee, and Panther made the best.

A half hour later, Liana had her coffee, a table next to the window, and a croissant, a treat she sometimes allowed herself because she found it never made her sick. Liana was scrolling through the events calendar at the synagogue she’d attended since birth. In terms of friends in Miami, Liana had Tori, her best friend since middle school, but most others in their high school group had moved away or lost touch, and Liana figured that the synagogue might be a good way to make friends and build a community.

Liana clicked on the details for a young professionals Tikkun Olam meetup group — there appeared to be a group of temple members in their 20s and 30s who, pursuant to the Jewish imperative to better the world, volunteered once a month at local shelters, hospice care centers, and other charitable organizations.

Next week, the group would be preparing meals at a West Miami shelter for those without homes. Without letting herself overthink things, Liana signed up to attend.

“Is this seat taken?” Liana faintly heard someone talking to her over her music and the noise cancellation of her AirPods Max. Pulling the headphones down to her neck, Liana was surprised to see James standing in front of her. “May I join you?” he asked.

“Go ahead,” she gestured, moving her backpack to the floor. The coffee shop had only a few tables, and while they were all full, there was an empty chair at Liana’s table.

James pulled back the chair and settled in leisurely, looking utterly delectable, even in a casual hoodie and jeans. Sure, Liana had always known he was hot. She had a vague crush on him in high school the way that every girl did, but she’d never really felt the way she did now: like he might knock her backwards from the sheer force of his attractiveness.

“Thanks,” said James, and flashed her a pearly-white smile that swooped straight down to her lower belly. “This is my favorite coffee in Pine Heights.”

“Same,” she said. “What are you drinking?”

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