Short Stories (without happy end)

Amelia (part. 2)

I get up at half-past six, as I do every morning, and go for a run after a breakfast of oatmeal, dried fruit, and orange juice. My dad watches me go out the door with an approving look and goes straight to work. I run for about an hour on a different course than the day before to expose my body to different terrain. Today there are steeper hills on the way out. Then I'll work on different muscles on the machines in the tennis club's weight room. My dad is there watching me like a raptor watching his prey, ready to swoop down on me if I don't do my exercises right. It's not nine o'clock yet but I'm getting tired. However, it's not over yet, I now have to play a two-set match against a student from the club. As expected, I win and my father does not congratulate me because it is 'normal'. I then go home to study until my mom calls me to eat. Turkey breast and green beans. In short, a normal weekend morning.

Then, I have free time until five o'clock. I was looking forward to this moment. I take my headphones and leave this place listening to a piece of Rachmaninoff.

It takes me less than fifteen minutes to wait for the place I wanted to go to. James is sitting at his desk in front of a big book that looks rather old. He doesn't move while I put my things down but as soon as I'm done, he closes his book with a sharp blow and looks at me. He smiles and greets me, pointing to the chair I'm eager to sit in. As usual, he is wearing a perfectly ironed white shirt and black suit pants. His ink-colored hair is perfectly neat and everything here seems in its place. Yet this strict organization reassures me. James turns on the metronome and opens a score that I have never seen before. I understand that he wants to test me and I do my best to interpret the sheet correctly. Several hours later, I have more or less mastered the piece and James congratulates me before telling me that it is time for me to go home.

I have to hit the clay courts first before I can rest. I don't want to play but unfortunately, I don't have a say in it. I have to play against Arthur like every day. He is my father's sister's son but most people who come here think he is my father's son. He encourages him, pushes him to go further, congratulates him. It's like the son he never had, it's his ward, his hope. As usual, the match is tense and very close.

In the end, I go home dragging my feet. I'm exhausted and my muscles hurt a little despite stretching. I lock myself in my room and climb onto my desk. I have hidden a keyboard that can be rolled up into the false ceiling. I know it's not great but it's better than nothing. I also have several apps on my phone to review my music theory that represents keyboards. I spread the sheet music out on my bed and start working. I stop when I know my parents will be home and put everything away.

My father calls me from the living room and I go there. This is where most of my medals and trophies are. My dad has his arms behind his back and strolls past my awards. ''I hope you're ready for tomorrow. You know what you have to do. I want you to take first place in the girls' competition and I want Arthur to take first place in the boys' competition. Do you understand?" he says. "Yes". ''Very good. I hope you are fully aware of the sacrifices your mother and I are making to make you the best. Thanks to us, you have a future already mapped out. Next year, you'll be going to the university I attended. You'll only be doing tennis, you won't have to waste time on other subjects. I have a friend who works there, I asked him to look after you. If you have any advice to ask, about your game or your opponents', go see him. We've already got you a room on campus, so you can just move in. Anyway, we'll talk about it later. Don't forget you have a competition tomorrow. We leave here at 7:30.''

I go back to my room and take Chopin with me. I caress him while starting to think about what I am going to do. Either I do everything my parents want and risk never being happy or I try to get out of it by doing what I love. I weigh up the pros and cons, thinking that if I followed my parents' path, it would be easy for me but I would risk getting hurt and if that happens, I don't have a plan B. If I do what I want to do, it will be complicated at the beginning but I want to succeed and I don't risk anything physically - except a sprained little finger. I think about it and conclude that if I'm going to do something, I should do it tonight.