01. Comfort.
Maria has these pajama pants -- these sky blue things made of cotton and covered in little ducks -- and when she sits beside Nole, when her legs curl across his and his hand falls to rest on her thigh, he starts naming the ducks.
02. Kiss.
The first time Nole kisses her it's unbearably boring and when he eases back, licks the cherry-chalk of her lipgloss form his lips, Maria laughs and says, "you owe me."
03. Soft.
Brownies aren't really supposed to look like this -- all mushy and soft and maybe oozing a little bit -- but Nole smiles and eats one anyway; she made them, after all.
04. Pain.
There's a time, before he asks her out and Maria says yes, when Nole presses the warm heat of a rice pack to her shoulder and says, "it will always be okay, yes?"
05. Potatoes.
"You look like potato with ears," he says and Maria yanks the magazine from his hands, rolls it up, and smacks him on the nose with it.
06. Rain.
Rain turns things foggy and cold and when Nole's car drives away, leaving Maria standing and waving at the hotel doorway, he puffs warm on the window and writes her name in the mist.
07. Chocolate.
Sometimes (often times) Nole says stupid things and makes up for it with chocolates; sometimes, Maria picks out all but the coconut and sends them back with a note that says, "try again."
08. Happiness.
Maria finds an old dictionary in her basement and highlights her favorite definitions of happiness and gives it to Nole the next time she seems him.
09. Telephone.
The day after they exchange numbers Nole sends her a text message -- i am on court beside u tell ur dad his jean zipper is down -- and Maria laughs so hard she drops her phone to shatter against the red of French clay.
10. Ears.
Whenever Maria puts Nole's glasses on him she always takes a minute to tug on his ears.
11. Name.
On a whim, Nole changes his iPod's name to Maria and so, of course, she has to change hers to Big Eared Jerk.
12. Sensual.
Maria's body feels sluggish and her ears buzz with the fog that swirls around the parts of her brain that control movement and speech; and, when she makes a successful, half-hearted attempt to loop her arms around his middle, she realizes that, really, it wouldn't be such a stretch to mark 'sensual' on the list of adjectives that fit Novak Djokovic.
13. Death.
Nole goes to her father's funeral and afterwards, when Maria's still refused to shed the black of her dress, he holds her in his lap and listens to her stories about growing up.
14. Sex.
Once Nole decides it's a good idea to jokingly mention sex on the beach; he has enough time to snort a surprised nose full of water when Maria says, "sure, if you had the vagina."
15. Touch.
Maria tells him she doesn't like it when her food touches so Nole spends an entire meal weaving a tale about Mashed Potato Land invading French Fry Island while crafting barriers out of toothpicks.
16. Weakness.
Not that she would ever admit it but Maria always gets a little weak in the knees on those mornings when she wakes up and Nole's still sharing her bed.
17. Tears.*
"This is stupid," Maria says, the first time they watch Borat together; Novak smiles and says, "is vary naiiice," and isn't surprised when she elbows him in the stomach.
18. Speed.
Things move a little fast -- first date, first kiss, the first time Maria tells her father about them and Nole admits that Yuri scares him -- but it's a good fast.
19. Wind.
The worst thing about storms, Nole thinks, is the wind and the way it drags tree limbs against his window; and so it's no surprise to Maria when he winds up in her bed in the middle of the night and she half-heartedly grumbles about taking her keycard back when he eases up behind her and loops his arms around her hips.
20. Freedom.
They've been together for two and a half years when Maria decides to relocate and fill the empty space in Nole's apartment.
21. Life.
Simple pleasures in life for Maria are trips to the playground, where her fingers curl against the summer-heated metal of swing set chains and Nole's fingers press to the denim of her hips as he pushes her.
22. Jealousy.
Music vibrates the floorboards beneath Nole's feet and Maria smells like spice and feels like silk in all the places she's pressed against him and Nole's never been much of a dancer but he moves anyway, awkward, laughing, just to soak up the jealous looks.
23. Hands.
They're dipping a cut up apple in caramel when Maria says, "You have really nice hands" and Nole smiles and touches his fingers, sticky with caramel and apple, to her jaw.
24. Taste.
Losing always tastes like rusted metal on Nole's tongue but when he loses Maria it turns into the copper-metal taste of blood.
25. Devotion.*
Maria's knees ache, popping a little in unpleasant ways, and her eyebrows furrow enough to cause a tiny ache but still she shakes, shakes slowly, until the stick falls with a tiny clatter against the floor and she smiles and doesn't try to erase the endless looping mind's eye images of Nole.
26. Forever.
Diamond and silver are heavy on her finger and Maria doesn't stop touching the band until Nole's fingers grab hers.
27. Blood.
When Maria leans back, leaving them both panting, she notices the startling red of her lipstick smeared on Nole's lips.
28. Sickness.
"Maria," Nole says, he flails, he rubs his fingers dramatically against the flushed skin of his cheeks, he coughs, "I leave you everything"; "Nole," Maria says, she rolls her eyes, she flicks his forehead, she pinches his cheeks, "it's the flu--shut up."
29. Melody.
On Nole's birthday Maria dances for him.
30. Star.
There's a blanket beneath them, there's Maria's head on his shoulder, Nole's fingers against the skin of her stomach, and there's the whispering mingle of voices as they lay claim to stars.
31. Home.
It's around midnight when Maria gets to see him, sweaty and sticky with champagne and floating on the high of victory, and when she goes to congratulate him Nole quiets her with the warm circle of his arms around her stomach and the heated rush of his breath against her temple.
32. Confusion.
The first time they say it -- IT, those three little words -- it isn't hearts and flowers and the air of romance; and, really, Maria's more than a little confused because (and she thinks maybe it's because of the way Nole sort of half-smiles, half-fumbles with his words) it's better than anything she may have imagined.
33. Fear.
Yuri watches him from across the table, all domineering eyebrow crease and subtly snarled lips, and Nole shifts uncomfortably beneath his gaze, wishing he wasn't too afraid to tell Maria to shut it with her giggling.
34. Lightning/Thunder.
There's a slippery slope with lust, one Maria willingly tumbles down as Nole's fingers twist and her own can't hold tight enough to the sweat-slick skin of his shoulders.
35. Bonds.
Nole's still with Jelena the first time he realizes that it isn't just the sluggish post-training session feelings that leave him a little flustered when he sees Maria.
36. Market.
Shopping means crowds and loud noises and the screaming children that run around, banging into knees without stopping, and Nole listens to one particularly shrill little boy, screaming in a desperate attempt to get a certain cheap plastic toy, while Maria holds tight to his fingers and tries to tell him the difference between good and gaudy jewelry.
37. Technology.
For as much and as fast he talks, Maria's come to realize that it takes Nole upwards of ten minutes to send a text message that's usually so garbled she can't even tell what he's saying.
38. Gift.
On Christmas morning there's a box hidden beneath her tree, something Maria hadn't noticed before, wrapped in bright pink and silver and when she opens it there's a necklace, pretty and silver, with a key dangling daintily from the end a note that reads, "when you are ready - Nole."
39. Smile.
Nole smiles and Maria blushes when they both realize that, almost involuntarily, she's traced his name and a tiny heart in the leftover ketchup on her plate.
40. Innocence.
Maria's twenty-two years, fifteen weeks, three days, and ten hours old when she realizes Nole's going to be a father.
41. Completion.
Every relationship is a cycle -- a beginning, a middle, an end -- and Maria realizes with a sort of half-hearted sadness that Nole's found the end before her.
42. Clouds.
First dates are always a disaster -- this one being no different when Nole ends up spilling a half-glass of champagne on the chiffon of Maria's dress and she ends up mashing his toes with her heel -- but for some reason Maria's dancing on the fluff of clouds when he wishes her goodnight.
43. Sky.
Nole's car is a sort of ugly blue that looks like the Los Angeles skyline and Maria groans in disgust when she hears him call it precious.
44. Heaven.
Maria knew he was funny; knew he was smart; knew he was good looking in that weird puppy sort of way; she didn't, however, know that he could cook and the first time she tastes the Nole Surprise, a sort of mix of chocolate and strawberry and some fluffy crème, she decides she'll trick him into marrying her.
45. Hell.
She doesn't like to admit that she's on some sort of Yuri-imposed leash but when he tells her to get rid of Nole, Maria ducks her head and chews her lip to raw, and does as she's told.
46. Sun.
"Oh shut up, you big baby," Maria snaps, hand gracelessly slapping down on the raw, red of Nole's back and the way he yelps raises the attention of a couple by the far corner of the pool.
47. Moon.
It's geeky and romantic and she would have never expected it from Nole but, at 10:15 PM Maria steps on her balcony, turns her eyes toward the outline of the moon, and smiles because somewhere, thousands of miles away, he's doing the exact same thing.
48. Waves.
People create waves of gossip when they learn that Maria Sharapova has actually decided to give Novak Djokovic the time of day.
49. Hair.
Why she ever agreed to let him mess with her hair, Maria will never know, but somewhere between start and finish Nole's yanked until she's tender headed with a migraine and all she has to show is a sloppy attempt at pigtails.
50. Supernova.
Neither of them do romance but when Nole's with her Maria feels ready, at any second, to explode in a shower of glitter and hearts.
*17: Gypsy tears. Enough said.
*25: In reference to something from one of Maria's Doodles: The coolest thing about it was this tradition of holding a cup with these sticks inside, each having a different number on them, and shaking them until only one falls out. While you are shaking these sticks you are supposed to think of something you would want to know about. The trick is, if more than one stick falls out, that thought is one big mess....which kind of freaked me out a bit because excuse me, I don't shake sticks on a daily basis and how the heck am I supposed to make only one fall out, right? So there I was on my knees, looking like a complete idiot, for 3 minutes shaking this thing so carefully that I think the sticks were so sick of shaking, that finally one fell out. Then you take this stick to a fortune teller and he tells you what this number means corresponding to what you were thinking of. Some of the things he said were very interesting and quite promising.