. . . As the afternoon heat waned in Flushing, something seemed off about her stroke as Graf easily took the first set 1-6. It had happened so quickly, no one seemed capable of gathering their bearings. Here she was, my Barcelona Bumblebee, as sweet and pure as the honey of Toraja, crumbling in her second chance at a US Open championship.
When the set ended, she was clearly rattled. But how to get her to relax. I could think of only one thing, my special tool. After a series of quick gestures and signals, she took a bathroom break, and I found myself making love to the US Open finalist during the match in the women's bathroom.
We both finished quickly, and then she returned to the match with that sexy confidence and violence that I'd only seen in the bedroom. She fought through a tie-break in the second set, and handily won the third.
I was proud of her - for I loved her like no woman before or after - but even more so, I was ready to take her home for more loving, as we've always done after matches. But as the two of us entered the limo with her trophy, she began to cry. "What's wrong, Arantxa?"
"Oh Chimi. What you did today... it was amazing. Really amazing."
"I only calmed you down, baby. You did the rest."
"That's not true, Chimi. You have a gift. That's why this is so hard."
"I don't understand..."
"If I keep you to myself, I'm only denying your gift to the other women of the world. Think about the women starving in the Third World. They need good loving from once-in-a-generation athletes too. I know you're still in high school, but soon enough you'll get drafted into the NFL, win several Super Bowls and then retire, only to play football once a year in All Star games, in which you will dominate. That will be a good life, and you will help lots of people with your gift..."
"Women."
"Yes, you will help lots of women with your gifts of love. But promise me one thing. When you're done with the NFL, please become an amateur anthropologist and do ethnographic research on Third-world women, and let them enjoy the fruits of your love as I have, and will forever fondly remember."
"Oh Arantxa, please don't!"
"It is too late, Chimi. I have to do this now, while I'm still brave. You be brave too and run fast and far like the western wind." . . .
This memoir has been amazingly turned down by several publishers, but I still hold out hope that it finds its audience some day. I know it is hard for women to understand how I could have been so committed to one woman once, but Arantxa was more than a woman, to me. And when she got married this heart of mine broke a little bit more, but it was also finally set free. Here is to you, Barcelona Bumblebee:
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar