The Unbearable Lightness of the B List – Part 5

Beautiful but Unlikely

clearing the stadium 2

U.S. Open, Day 11, 6:30 p.m. Lawrence and I were sitting in the empty stadium as Michael practiced for his singles quarterfinal later that night. The grounds were being emptied of day-ticket holders, the sun shone at a more forgiving angle, the TV crews were eating dinner, so here was an hour and a half or so of peace, of being left alone, before the night crowd streamed in and it all geared up again.

Slumped down on my tailbone, baseball cap pulled low over my eyes, legs slung up over the seat back in front of me, I settled into a well-worn stream of complaint. “I don’t know, Lawrence; I don’t know . . . I want to do something that means something, you know. If not, well then just live by the ocean with a nice garden and lots of cats, no harm done, you know . …

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