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At first he welcomed the silence. To get away from the tennis stadium, to sit on his own, the sound of the traffic the merest whisper from the streets below, it was exactly what he wanted. He went over and over the match again, every shot that went wide or long, every ball that ended up in the net. But soon his thoughts strayed to the distraction: Rafa, standing in the dressing room before the match. Roger’s mind was in knots. Soon the silence became oppressive, too many questions, not enough answers. That single thought that overwhelmed all others: Rafael Nadal.
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Reread: 1
no more reread.2007-8, Starts at Madrid Masters in fall, Rafa loses in quarters, roger in finals. Recognizing how much they crave each other/understand each other and elevate each other. Get together when Rafa stops by after Roger's loss--Mirka out at dinner. Make plans to see each other more at later tournaments. Mirka catches them their third time together. Is sad that she cannot give roger everything he needs but supports him/allows him to have the affair while staying with her. Ends with Roger/Mirka watching Rafa on TV after new year, Roger rooting for him in Chennai, from Dubai. Anticipating trip to australia so that they can be together again, with Mirka's knowledge/support. uncomfortable sharing dynamic...
“You know, Rafa,” said Roger, letting his eyes roam over his sprawling body and coming to rest on his sleepy eyes. “Today I wish I played you. I don’t mind so much losing to you.”
“No?” Rafa laughed. “Then I wish today I play you, too.”
“But maybe I would not lose against you,” continued Roger, musingly. “You always make me play better.”
Rafa raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you see me on Friday,” he said.
“Yeah, I see you everywhere else, though,” said Roger. “I see you at Wimbledon, at Roland Garros. Half the year I see you.”
Rafa looked away, disappointment fleeting on his face. “Still only half the year,” he said, his voice quiet and heavy.
Roger, stretched out similarly to Rafa, his legs propped on the coffee table, nudged Rafa’s foot with his own. “Next year,” he said gently. “Next year I will win Roland Garros, you will win Wimbledon, then we both play the final in the US.”
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“We find some time soon,” said Roger.Rafa nodded. “Yeah,” he said. He looked so young, all of a sudden; something bewildered in his eyes, something uncertain in the set of his shoulders. His face had set into a frown.
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have intense chemistry/special relationship--> get together keep secret, mirka finds them, shares roger...
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