Courting the Courted
Three
Lately Ryoma and I have been walking home together since we lived right across the street from each other.
“Can I see your racket for a moment?” He asked as we walked out of the court after practice. I nodded and opened my bag quickly. He took it and examined it quickly, “You need new strings – these are really messed up.”
“Yeah – I was going to look up a place tonight that’s in the area to get them fixed-“
“I’ll take you – I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon.” Ryoma said handing my racket back, “I though you had a pink racket.”
“You saw what happened to my other racket at the tournament – the ball blew a hole right through it. But it also needed to get replaced. This orange one’s my back up.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I was playing you for the first time the handle started get cracked – and it just got worse. So when I was at practice with my coach on Tuesday night the racket just broke.”
“Wasn’t yours metal?”
“It was Plastic.” He shock his head as we split, he crossed at the crosswalk and continued straight.
I threw clothes all across my room from my dresser, “Why I can’t I find a single thing to wear?!” I yelled in anger as I clutched a green shirt in my hands. I slipped it on and pulled on a pair of skinny jeans, slipped a studded black belt on so it sat at my waist and slipped on a pair of black flats before I plunged headlong into the washroom. I quickly wiped some lip stain on my lips and glazed my eyelashes with mascara. I quickly grabbed my racket bag and ran out of my room just as the door bell rang.
“Coming,” I yelled from the stairs as I pinned my braids back. I opened the door and shut it behind myself.
“Ready?” He asked smirking, I nodded. I followed at his side as we walked into town and along the main sport street and down into an alley.
“Are you sure we’re headed in the right direction?” I asked.
“Yeah – it’s this way.” He replied taking my wrist and pulling me along slightly deeper into the alley. We came upon a small dilapidated shop whose sign read ‘Haritatsu’. We walked into the shop and it was reminded me of a little home. The inside wasn’t nearly was run down as the outside. An old man walked out looking sort of depressed.
“Welcome. Oh – is that Ryoma – kun? Haven’t seen you for a while now – anything that I can do for you – oh who’s this cute girl you have with you?” He asked getting all cheerful.
“She’s my friend – Chiharu – she just moved here from American.” Ryoma said plainly, “She needs her strings fixed.”
“Oh – let’s have a look.” Haritatsu said with joy, that of which immediately fell, “What have you done to this racket? The strings are so worn and used.”
“That racket was my mom’s racket from when she was in elementary school.” I explained looking down, “I use it as a replacement racket – since my regular racket got totalled on the weekend.”
“I’ll start on it right away. But did you by chance happen to bring your other racket?”
“Oh – yeah I did.” I shifted through my bag for the racket’s pieces, “The hole happened first on Sunday at the tournament, but there’s always been a crack in the handle – so at my team practice it just finally broke.”
“I can tell that you’re committed. Here have some tea and sit and watch some TV! I have some tapes from your father’s old matches.”
Ryoma and I sat beside each other in front of the TV set listening to Haritatsu’s story’s of Ryoma’s father.
“Your dad was good in his glory years.”
“He’s still good!” Ryoma said defensively.
“Coming from someone I beat about someone I beat.”
“You beat both Ryoma and his father?” Haritatsu asked intrigued. I nodded, “That’s amazing – you’ll be big in no time. It’ll be a while to string – why don’t you two go out and walk around for a bit?”
“Come on – let’s go.” Ryoma said standing up.
“Does your racket need stringing too?”
“It’s OK.” He said walking out of the shop – I followed him, “We’re going to get you a new racket.”
“Oh – Thanks – sorry if I’m causing you any trouble.”
“It’s no problem.” Ryoma made his way into a racket store known as ‘Every Racket’. I wound up buying a black racket with pink roses on the sides with a large ‘C’ on the bottom that had a pink rose behind it. This racket weighed the same as my old one but this one was steel. We returned back to the shop to pick up my racket.
“It’s fixed.” He said handing it over to me.
“Thank you very much!” I said bowing. We left the shop yet again.
“Hey – I have some errands to run – come with me.” Ryoma said once we were out of the shop. We wound up at the tennis courts, “I just want to test something out – make sure you return the ball OK?” I nodded. He sent a really easy serve to me – and I went for it but I porously fell over.
“My bad,” I said laughing. I saw him shake his head as he walked over to help me up.
“Stop pretending you suck at tennis,” he whispered into my ear.
“Can I see your racket for a moment?” He asked as we walked out of the court after practice. I nodded and opened my bag quickly. He took it and examined it quickly, “You need new strings – these are really messed up.”
“Yeah – I was going to look up a place tonight that’s in the area to get them fixed-“
“I’ll take you – I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon.” Ryoma said handing my racket back, “I though you had a pink racket.”
“You saw what happened to my other racket at the tournament – the ball blew a hole right through it. But it also needed to get replaced. This orange one’s my back up.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I was playing you for the first time the handle started get cracked – and it just got worse. So when I was at practice with my coach on Tuesday night the racket just broke.”
“Wasn’t yours metal?”
“It was Plastic.” He shock his head as we split, he crossed at the crosswalk and continued straight.
I threw clothes all across my room from my dresser, “Why I can’t I find a single thing to wear?!” I yelled in anger as I clutched a green shirt in my hands. I slipped it on and pulled on a pair of skinny jeans, slipped a studded black belt on so it sat at my waist and slipped on a pair of black flats before I plunged headlong into the washroom. I quickly wiped some lip stain on my lips and glazed my eyelashes with mascara. I quickly grabbed my racket bag and ran out of my room just as the door bell rang.
“Coming,” I yelled from the stairs as I pinned my braids back. I opened the door and shut it behind myself.
“Ready?” He asked smirking, I nodded. I followed at his side as we walked into town and along the main sport street and down into an alley.
“Are you sure we’re headed in the right direction?” I asked.
“Yeah – it’s this way.” He replied taking my wrist and pulling me along slightly deeper into the alley. We came upon a small dilapidated shop whose sign read ‘Haritatsu’. We walked into the shop and it was reminded me of a little home. The inside wasn’t nearly was run down as the outside. An old man walked out looking sort of depressed.
“Welcome. Oh – is that Ryoma – kun? Haven’t seen you for a while now – anything that I can do for you – oh who’s this cute girl you have with you?” He asked getting all cheerful.
“She’s my friend – Chiharu – she just moved here from American.” Ryoma said plainly, “She needs her strings fixed.”
“Oh – let’s have a look.” Haritatsu said with joy, that of which immediately fell, “What have you done to this racket? The strings are so worn and used.”
“That racket was my mom’s racket from when she was in elementary school.” I explained looking down, “I use it as a replacement racket – since my regular racket got totalled on the weekend.”
“I’ll start on it right away. But did you by chance happen to bring your other racket?”
“Oh – yeah I did.” I shifted through my bag for the racket’s pieces, “The hole happened first on Sunday at the tournament, but there’s always been a crack in the handle – so at my team practice it just finally broke.”
“I can tell that you’re committed. Here have some tea and sit and watch some TV! I have some tapes from your father’s old matches.”
Ryoma and I sat beside each other in front of the TV set listening to Haritatsu’s story’s of Ryoma’s father.
“Your dad was good in his glory years.”
“He’s still good!” Ryoma said defensively.
“Coming from someone I beat about someone I beat.”
“You beat both Ryoma and his father?” Haritatsu asked intrigued. I nodded, “That’s amazing – you’ll be big in no time. It’ll be a while to string – why don’t you two go out and walk around for a bit?”
“Come on – let’s go.” Ryoma said standing up.
“Does your racket need stringing too?”
“It’s OK.” He said walking out of the shop – I followed him, “We’re going to get you a new racket.”
“Oh – Thanks – sorry if I’m causing you any trouble.”
“It’s no problem.” Ryoma made his way into a racket store known as ‘Every Racket’. I wound up buying a black racket with pink roses on the sides with a large ‘C’ on the bottom that had a pink rose behind it. This racket weighed the same as my old one but this one was steel. We returned back to the shop to pick up my racket.
“It’s fixed.” He said handing it over to me.
“Thank you very much!” I said bowing. We left the shop yet again.
“Hey – I have some errands to run – come with me.” Ryoma said once we were out of the shop. We wound up at the tennis courts, “I just want to test something out – make sure you return the ball OK?” I nodded. He sent a really easy serve to me – and I went for it but I porously fell over.
“My bad,” I said laughing. I saw him shake his head as he walked over to help me up.
“Stop pretending you suck at tennis,” he whispered into my ear.