"They actually think I love coaching her!"

This was minute five of Tashi's rant after her first week doing her new job.

It had been years of constantly adjusting expectations, you knew that almost as well as her and her doctors. There had been a glimpse of hope when she started working a hitting partner. It wasn't tennis, it wasn't practice in the fullest sense, but it was something.

A month ago, she gave up on becoming herself again. At least, what she considered to be herself. Tashi the Tennis Player. Tennis Champion. The Duncanator!

You knew Tashi, what you knew to be her, beyond the court and the sponsorships and the nights she'd spend hurting herself watching old gameplay footage. Your Tashi was still here, pacing around the kitchen as you ate the dinner you'd made the two of you.

"Like- like I wanted to do this! Like I woke up one day and went 'I'd rather coach a girl that I would've been knocking out in the first round than play myself'!"

The ranting, you could handle. This was easy.

What would be hard is the way she'd crash, late at night, after thinking and thinking and dwelling on her new trajectory. When she'd curl up in your arms like she was a kid again, finally letting herself cry because it just wasn't fair. And out of sight, your head resting on hers, you'd cry too, because it really wasn't.

But for now, she was just mad. Now oscillating between taking bites of her food and pacing around the table, it was like she was trying to burn off dinner in real time. You thought she just might with how fast she was talking.

"And her dad, God, why was he even there? Who cares if he used to hit with her after school! He was telling me how great I am at coaching. Fucking great! Like I was 'born to be a coach'. Can you believe that?"