I started playing tennis for my health only. It's not like I really had a choice, either. My dad played tennis, my older brother played tennis; so it was only natural when my parents decided the sport fit for me was tennis.
I think I hated it at first--or maybe it was curiosity. I can't remember anymore. It's been so long. I've played some professional tennis, but not one of them resulted in me being victorious. My parents say that I'm just not aggressive enough during games.
But how can I be aggressive in tennis? It's just not part of my personality. Why--
Ouch!
I wince when my head starts throbbing, and my first thoughts are that I'm half-asleep, and my head is bumping against the car window. I crack open my eyes, my head pounding still. My vision is blurry, and the first thing I see is a very familiar face. My old tennis coach's face, to be exact.
She's talking over the phone with someone, and her English accent is still present and strong as ever. I lay blankly for a moment, confused.
Coach Kate? Why was she here? And why is her accent still so heavy? She's been in Texas longer than I've been playing tennis now!
I decide to try getting up, and groan as I do so. My body feels heavier than it has been in a few years, and all my joints are protesting. And for some reason, I feel like I have more energy than I did before--I just felt groggy and sleepy right now.
Coach Kate seems to notice me waking up, but stays on the phone.
"Jay, can you hear me?" Her voice is soft and sweet, not the joking or demanding tone she usually used to use during our lessons. Again, I'm confused as I get a better look at her. She seems younger--by at least twelve years, in fact. She doesn't have any graying hair, and her face isn't as wrinkled as before. Her voice sounds younger too, in fact. I squint my eyes, trying to see better.
"Coach Kate, is that you?" I croak out, my voice cracking. My throat feels so dry, making my eyes water as it starts burning from lack of water. I can see Coach Kate grabbing some water out of the corner of my eyes, and eventually feel relief when a cool liquid trickles down my parched throat. There's suddenly sounds of shouting coming from the phone Coach Kate was holding before, and she picks up and says something to someone on the other end. The other party seems to calm down, their shouting eventually ceasing. Coach Kate eventually hangs up, and I sit awkwardly in the same spot I was before, still confused as to what had happened.
"Er, Coach Kate, what happened? I thought I was in my dad's car heading home from a tournament.." I ask, shifting where I sat. Coach Kate looks at me oddly for a moment before dismissing it.
"Jay, you passed out from dehydration--or at least that's what me and your mom think," she says soothingly, putting a hand on my shoulder. I stare into her eyes for a moment, dumbfounded.
Was this a joke? A prank? Why was she treating me like a kid? I stare at her again, just to confirm my thoughts. I look past her now, and realize that we were in the old clubhouse that I used to play tennis in in my younger years. Problem was, I haven't been here for years.
"Coach Kate," I start, "can you please tell me what exactly happened once I got here?" Coach Kate seems worried about some type of concussion, and starts off in a of-course-you-should-know-this voice.
"Well, you came to class just like usual for your group lesson, and started off as usual with warm-ups and started in pairs with each other." Coach Kate sat down next to me, her hand still on my shoulder. I wanted to push it off, but I decided to hold it in until she finished her story.
"And then, in the middle of a mini tournament, you suddenly collapsed--you didn't seem to…" she trailed off, seemingly regretting that she mentioned something she had just said. I decided not to push it, but I was still confused.
How did I suddenly arrive at the old clubhouse with Coach Kate? And what's this about dehydration? No matter how thirsty I got during my tennis lessons, I never once passed out from that. And what was all that about my mom? My head throbbed, making me slightly hutch over and scrunch my face up. Coach Kate immediately pounces on the chance to help.
She rubs circles on my back, asking if there was something wrong; if I felt sick or anything. I couldn't reply as my head swam, bile rising in my throat.
"Would you mind if I head to the restroom for a bit?" I say, barely even a whisper, but already standing up. Coach Kate doesn't manage to finish her reply as I started stumbling off, hutching over the toilet and throwing up my guts. I could hear Coach Kate following me to the restroom, her hand patting my back. As much as I appreciated her care for me, at the moment, I was too embarrassed to show her my very sorry state. I quickly wiped my mouth with the paper towel she handed me, regretting throwing up in the first place.
"Feel better?" Coach Kate asks, handing me a cup of water to rinse my mouth with. I thank her momentarily, goggling my mouth with it and spitting it into the sink. I feel awkward as she watches me, thinking about how embarrassing it must have been to pass out from dehydration. I then glanced up at the mirror to check if I looked any better after freshening up, and almost fainted at what stared back at me.
"Is that me?!" I yell, forgetting that my old coach was still in the restroom with me. I immediately covered my mouth, but still gawked at my reflection. I touch the mirror to confirm that it wasn't a picture and pinch myself just as an extra precaution. I wince when I pinch myself too hard, and stand in disbelief while eyeing the mirror. I don't register the hand that rests on my shoulder, or when the door to the clubhouse swings open and the silhouette of my mom appears.
"What?"