Page 121 of Backhanded Compliments

“So, is that a yes?” Juliette asks, and Luca nods.

“Yes.”

FORTY-NINEJULIETTE

Juliette has never been more grateful to be playing the first semifinal on Friday. Her nerves have been eating her alive for the whole day, and she knows she couldn’t have sat through Remi and Claudia’s semifinal without bouncing out of her skin.

The last time she played Luca, she felt a strange cocktail of smugness and excitement to crush Luca to bits. But now, as she stands in the tunnel and shifts from foot to foot, she’s almost unable to contain her smile. These nerves are from excitement. She’s ready to havefun. To play the game she loves the most, with the person she loves the most.

She sneaks a look back at Luca, who bites her lip to hide her smile. It’s fun to hold on to a secret that no one knows and yet they all speculate about.

Her name is announced, and Juliette walks onto the court. New York’s cooled rapidly, the late afternoon air carrying the scent of crisp autumn. The warmth lingers, the kind of afternoon that bleeds into a perfectly cool night. It’s the fall equinox, the sun’s rays equally balanced, not unlike the way Juliette and Luca have balanced out.

Juliette takes a deep breath and waves to the crowd as she heads to her bench. She slips easily into her usual routine—setting up her water bottles, tapping her strings to check the tension, unfolding her towel, and putting her watch away.

Juliette blinks and she’s at the coin toss. The lights glitter above them, the sun dipped below the edge of Arthur Ashe Stadium. It’s filled to the brim with screaming tennis fans who want them to ripeach other’s throats out. A thrill of exhilaration courses beneath Juliette’s skin, and she bounces on her toes.

Juliette wins the coin toss and elects to serve first. She catches Luca’s eye before they warm up, and despite her steely exterior, she can see that Luca’s excited and ready.

Their combined nervous energy leads to a very chaotic beginning. The first four games are breaks, unlike their match in Australia, when they held throughout the first set. Juliette’s backhand goes wildly out every time she doesn’t slice, and Luca has an unprecedented nine double faults by the end of her second service game.

It’s a slow grind to get into the groove, but Juliette finds hers first and finally manages to hold. It becomes easier and easier to melt into the logistics and strategy of the match. It’s unbelievably fun to fight against Luca, and the crowd is so into it. They scream and yell, thoroughly enjoying this chaotic and wild match. Juliette hangs on by the skin of her teeth to hold and stay in the set.

Much like their first match, their first set goes to a tiebreaker. It swings wildly in Juliette’s way in one point and then rapidly back to Luca.

And it’s a final stab volley from Juliette that gives her the tiebreaker and the set, 7–4.

The court is rendered in stark clarity. The absolute focus she’s exerting is sure to give her a headache later, but she’s never felt more in control of herself.

The second set is a fresh opportunity, and Luca is never one to back down. It’s one of the many things she loves about her. They wear each other out with long points, and the set drags into another tiebreaker. But this time, Luca’s serve paints the lines so fast that Juliette is surprised there aren’t scorch marks on the ball.

She overcooks a forehand down the line to gift Luca the second set.

The third set is no less spectacular and demanding. The odds of who will win must be swinging rapidly between them.

Juliette tries to keep her focus, tries to keep her intensity, but mistakes slip through the cracks, and Luca pounces on each of them. Sheis fearless, she is ruthless, and this time, Juliette isn’t frustrated by it. She is playing well, but Luca is simply better today.

When Luca breaks to go up 5–3, Juliette knows she won’t stop fighting, but she also recognizes her chances have become slimmer than a sidewalk crack. Her muscles are burning, the cruelty of the last match finally taking its toll.

Luca catches her eye on the changeover before she serves for the match, and Juliette smiles. Whereas before she might have been sick with jealousy and anger, she feels light. They’ve played an incredible match, and this is the most fun she’s had in years. Even more fun than the Australian Open.

Luca’s shoulders relax from her ears, and she tips her head in acknowledgment, in understanding.

Juliette knows the crowd would love to see more of an emotional spectacle from both of them, but they’re past that now.

Luca serves two lightning strikes. Two aces, and she’s up 30–0.

Juliette steps in to crack Luca’s next first serve down the line because she has absolutely nothing to lose.

Luca claps her palm against her strings, and Juliette smiles.

Luca spins a serve out wide, and Juliette barely gets it back, launching them into a 30–shot rally that ends with Luca trying to slice a backhand that sinks into the net.

Juliette’s lungs burn, and she wipes her face with her towel for a second of respite from the overstimulation of the moment.

Luca silences Juliette’s hope with a one-two punch, a serve down the T, and an inside-out forehand that Juliette barely tips with the end of her racket.

Match point.

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