Chapter Twenty-Eight
Wade
I watched as Valencia College put a good serve across the net, but I'd trained my FSU team well in defense, and they returned it with a swift attack. There were a few volleys back and forth, but eventually, one of my players spiked it with furious accuracy, and that was it: we scored the match point.
Out on the court, the girls celebrated and hugged each other, and I knew I should be feeling proud and excited, as well – but I just wasn't. This was our sixth straight victory, yet somehow I just couldn't bring myself to care beyond being happy that it meant job security.
Don't get me wrong – I was happy for the team, but I wasn’t excited about winning. I hadn't been slacking off or doing a half-assed job of coaching. I'd still been putting my best into coaching the team. It was just that my heart wasn't in it.
I'd been speaking to my ex Georgia about once a week. Even though Eryn and I were officially apart – not sure if we were ever “officially” together in the first place – I still felt like I was cheating on her.
And it wasn't as if I was getting any sort of thrill out of talking to Georgia. It was more of a distraction than anything, so that I wouldn't focus so hard on the pain I felt from missing Eryn so much. I'd agreed to come out and see Georgia for that “last goodbye” night she kept talking about, but I'd been putting it off longer and longer. Now that this game was done, I had a few free days, and so I'd finally taken the plunge and bought a flight.
I'd be leaving for my flight to California in an hour.
I jogged out onto the court and shook hands with the girls, congratulating them on their win, and then went to the men's locker rooms, got changed, and grabbed my bags. Fifteen minutes later, I got in my car and drove to the airport.
I managed to check in just in time, and got to the plane just as it was boarding. I couldn't help thinking about Eryn, of course. She was at Stanford, which wasn't exactly around the corner from L.A., but it sure as hell was a lot closer than it was to Florida.
Of course, as much as I missed her, I didn't think that it would be right to go and see her. We'd both agreed that we had to part ways. She had her whole future ahead of her, and I'd chosen my path, as well; it seemed that there was no way we could make it work.
It just wouldn't be fair to her to drop in and mess things up.
And maybe, just maybe, she was already with someone else. Maybe she'd moved on. The thought made me sick to my stomach. I couldn't handle thinking about it.
We took off, and after the “fasten seatbelts” sign went off, the flight attendants came around and offered us drinks and snacks. My first impulse, as it had been throughout the last several weeks, was to order a double whiskey – but as I was about to say it, I paused.
“Um, yes sir, what did you want?” asked the flight attendant again.
“Make it a Coke, I think,” I replied.
“That's all? We do have liquor if you-”
I held up my hand and shook my head. “No, thanks. A Coke will be just fine.”
She handed me the soda and I smiled – more for myself than for the attendant. I was going to stop this drinking now. There was no use in continually drowning my sorrows and waking up with a hangover.
Yes, my heart was broken. Yes, it hurt…but I simply couldn't go on doing this. Something had to give. It was time I start making different choices – choices that would take me in the right direction.
I looked out the window at the vast expanse of blue sky and white, puffy clouds below, and sipped on my Coke with a smile.
*****
A cloud of mixed feelings hung over me as we touched down in L.A. It had been a while since I’d last been to Los Angeles, vowing not to return and feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders as I headed toward a new life in Florida.
And now, here I was, going back to the very place and very person I'd so badly wanted to get away from. Georgia had sent her limo and driver to pick me up from the airport, and she’d said she'd have a bottle of bubbly on ice waiting for us to enjoy when I got to her Hollywood mansion. It was all set up – it was all waiting.
Yet, somehow, with every step closer to the arrivals area that I took, I found myself questioning myself more and more.
Why was I doing this? What would it solve? Wouldn't this just create more problems?
I veered off the walkway as I saw a sign for a bathroom. I headed in, went into a stall, and closed the toilet seat, sat down on it, and locked the door.
It suddenly hit me, and hit me hard. What the hell was I doing? This wasn't what I wanted. This wasn't what I wanted at all! This was just going to stir up more problems for me, and send me even deeper into the downward spiral I’d been flailing down. A dark hole from which I wasn't sure I'd be able to extract myself.
I breathed in deeply to clear my head and held the air in my lungs. Thoughts of Eryn suddenly flooded my mind, and there was no way I could think about anything else.
Yes, we were apart – but why? Yeah, yeah, there were all those reasons, all the practicalities and problems that came with our situation with me being in Florida and her being here. But why the hell hadn't we had the courage to just try? Surely the love that existed between us deserved that much – at least a chance.
I pushed my hands hard through my hair as all sorts of thoughts raced through my head. I was scheduled to be in California for five days – five days that I'd planned to spend drinking, partying, and drowning my sorrows.
But was that really the right way to spend this time? Surely what existed between Eryn and I deserved more than that. I knew it did.
I took out my phone and looked up her number. My thumb hovered for a long time over the “call” button – but I just couldn't press it.
This was crazy. Here I was, sitting in a bathroom stall in LAX, having a crisis. I felt stuck, frozen, almost unable to move.
But I had to. I had to do something.
I breathed in deeply, got up from the toilet, and left the stall. With a new sense of purpose in my stride, I walked quickly down to the baggage pickup area and got my suitcase. As soon as I got my suitcase, I opened it up, dug around, and found a hat and some sunglasses. I put them on, turning up my collar, as well, so that I'd be as disguised as possible.
I then walked quickly to the arrivals area, and there, waiting for me, I saw a man who had to be Georgia's driver – he was holding a board with my name on it. I bent my head down, keeping the brim of the hat low over my face, and walked briskly past him. Luckily, he didn't even give me a second glance – he just kept staring into the crowd of people behind me.
I walked faster and faster, a sense of drive, purpose, and freedom speeding my steps and injecting fresh strength into me as I went. A smile began to spread across my face, and as I got out of the arrivals area, I took off the hat and sunglasses and let the California sun fall onto my face.
A taxi driver grinned at me and waved me over to him. “It's a beautiful day, sir,” he said with a smile. “You need a ride?”
“I sure do, my man,” I replied.
“Where to? This your first time in L.A. or what?”
I shook my head. “No, I used to live here actually.”
“Cool, cool, so you know your way around.”
“I do. Take me to Phil's Luxury Auto Rentals, please. You know where that is?”
“Yeah, that's the place near the Hollywood Bowl, right?”
I nodded and grinned. “That's the one.”
“I can get you there in no time, sir,” he said. “Let’s get you loaded up.”
He took my luggage and put it in the trunk of his cab while I climbed into the passenger seat. My phone started to ring, and I took it out of my pocket and saw that it was Georgia. I cut off the call, and then turned the phone off. I didn't need to speak to her now – or ever.
“So, what you gonna be renting from Phil's, sir?” the cab driver asked as we set off.
“Not sure. Depends on what he has. I like Beemers, and I've got a fair distance to travel today, so I'd prefer to do it in comfort.”
“Yeah, good choice. My cousin's got a Beemer; that thing drives like it's floating on a cloud. Real smooth, man, real smooth.”
I nodded. “Very much so.”
“Where you heading to?” he asked.
“Stanford.”
“Ah, nice area. Oh, hey, you're going to be there tonight?”
“I am, yes.”
“Man, you gotta go see this band from L.A.; they're playing up there. They've got a great sound, guaranteed to get you on your feet dancing. They have a vibe like the Red Hot Chili Peppers. They're gonna be real big man, I just know it. I saw them a couple of weeks ago here.
“If ya need something to do tonight, you should go see 'em now while they're still playing the bar and club circuit. Next year, I'm sure they'll be playing stadiums, so this might be your last chance to see 'em before they hit the big time.”
“That sounds pretty cool actually. I love the Chili Peppers. Where in Stanford are they playing?”
“A place called The Fishbowl,” he replied.
“The Fishbowl, huh? Thanks for the tip. I might check them out.”