Page 46 of The Pickleball Girl Finds Her Match

“Oh my god,” cried Endy. She quickly grabbed Earlene’s arm. “What happened?”

“It looks like Paul has had a heart attack.” Earlene grasped Endy’s hand, bent her head lower, and whispered, “He was playing all out, like he usually does, you know? But after the first game, he was just sweating much more than normal, and he said he felt dizzy and a little nauseous.”

Endy put her hand to her chest. “But he didn’t stop playing, did he?”

“Of course he didn’t,” replied Earlene. “He just guzzled down a Gatorade, saying he was probably dehydrated.”

Joel threaded through the crowd, finding his way to Endy, his forehead furrowed. “I was over on court eight and saw these guys crowding around Paul. He was already sitting down in the middle of the court—couldn’t even make it over to the shade by the fence.” Joel drew in a deep breath. “And then he just kind of slumped over. That’s when I called 911.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I tried CPR until finally the ambulance showed up.”

Endy felt her heart breaking. Everyone at Whisper Hills loved Paul Rothman as much as she did. She thought about his teasing ways, always with a sly smile creeping across his lips. She thought about the special times they spent together, all the trivia nights and pickleball games. And then she felt a lump form in her throat when she realized that Paul was all alone, with no one to take care of and watch over him after this ordeal.

“He’ll be okay,” said Endy, willing it to be true. “He’ll be okay.”

From across the street, the persistent clanging of a flag’s chain beating against its metal pole sounded harsh and grating. A dog’s incessant barking carried from a block away.

With tears welling in her eyes, Endy silently pleaded for her friend to do as he had in the past: sit up, say he was fine, and joke that he was just dehydrated. At that moment, with the sun overhead, blazing down on them, Endy found herself shivering.

The EMTs methodically started packing up their portable defibrillator, and the firefighters rolled a gurney onto the court as people stepped aside. The pickleballers seemed to hold their collective breath.

The EMT in charge stood up from his crouch. His eyes searched over the crowd, finally finding Joel and Endy. His lips pressed together, and he gave a short shake of his head.

He mouthed,I’m sorry.

After the ambulance took Paul’s body away, they all somehow had to continue on with their day. With the news of what happened, the racquet club had fallen unnaturally quiet. The pro shop closed, but Endy still had to show up for Picklers. Her heart was heavy and her thoughts were so much more than sad, and somehow the kids seem to sense it, because they all got along well for once and simply played pickleball. Even Paco was subdued.

When the last kid had been picked up and driven off, Endy puttered about. Wandering onto a grass tennis court, the darkness enveloped her. The lights from the sports courts had clicked off, and the stars were just starting to emerge. She couldn’t bring herself to go home to her stark and quiet casita, so she prowled close to the fence, the black windscreens hiding and protecting her.

Endy stumbled across the tightly clipped grass, a heavy sadness weighing on her heart like granite. The court felt empty and desolate, and tears glistened in Endy’s eyes as she realized that the empty grass now reminded her that Paul would never again be there to share in moments like the meteor shower. Looking out across the vast expanse of green, Endy found herself drowning, pulled under by the shadows wrapped around her heart.

A train’s forlorn whistle sounded far off, fading as it rumbled away, headed east through the desert. Lonely.

Endy’s sorrow blanketed her, and finally, she broke.

She leaned her back against the chain-link fence, feeling it scrape her skin as her legs wavered and gave out from under her and she slid slowly down.

Endy covered her face with her hands. She curled into herself, tears flowing down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook with her sobs, the sound drowned out by the many air-conditioning units kicking on, the throbbing hums a loud din in the quiet night.

30

Endy adjusted the stack of empty, folded moving boxes in her arms as she walked through the courtyard to her casita. Clouds lingered from the recent overcast, dark, and gloomy days, obscuring the moon and bringing an unusual desert chill to the evening.

With the news of Paul Rothman’s death, the last couple of days at the racquet club had been difficult for everyone. So many of Paul’s friends would gather for hours inside the pro shop, talking about how wonderful he was, trading stories of their time together with him.

But hearing his name over and over, Endy’s heart broke with each mention. She felt drained; her legs felt as heavy as lead and her body cold.

The cardboard boxes she carried seemed to weigh tons, and she stumbled as she went up the path. Sebastian took three steps out from the dark of the patio and caught Endy in his strong arms. He relieved her of the boxes, placing them on the ground next to their feet, then wrapped Endy tight in an embrace, his cheek resting against her hair.

“What are you doing here?” Endy asked, her voice quiet. “I thought you were playing mixed doubles with Sloane tonight.”

“We got an early start and then won the match pretty quickly,” Sebastian answered. “And since you and I actually haven’t seen each other in a while, I figured I’d see if you were home.” Endy’s face pressed against his chest, his T-shirt still damp with perspiration from his tennis match. She shivered.

“You okay, Endy?” concern filled Sebastian’s voice.

“I’m just so cold.” Her voice was so soft he could barely hear her.

“You’re cold? It’s like fifty-five degrees right now.”

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