I shouldn’t have left. Dammit, I shouldn’t have. I let it all get to me. I met the woman of my dreams and I couldn’t take the reality, so I left it all in darkness. But why? What gain did I think I’d get from this?

A year to yourself won’t yield you any answers. It’ll just harden your heart.

When I walk outside my cabin, it’s obvious where I’m going next. I’m not too far off from Seattle. It may be a couple hours drive, but it’ll be easy to find her. I’ll win her back and then I’ll go to the NHL and make my return.

“Easier said than done,” I say, as the rain begins to fall around me.

I walk back into the cabin and grab some of the necessities. A backpack is filled with water, food, and a map. I keep a few books with me to pass the time. I fold up a tent, as well.

A lot has been on my mind. I guess I had to work out a few things. Through out it all was one constant. Her. And I still don’t know why that’s the case. She was just some woman I met at the party. She’s just someone I caught eyes with at the gym. Those moments at the time only felt like small pebbles amongst the pivotal moments in my life. Now I see that small pebbles can make huge waves. Over time, the thought of her has eaten at me.

She was just so fucking sexy, good spirited, and a damn good time. I hadn’t met anyone like that since high school. I guess that’s part of the reason why I left. I started to remember how things used to feel. I was chasing the magic and got caught up in the monotony of my own life.

So I make my way back to Seattle. I walk to the nearest street and hold out my hand. I get in the first truck that stops.

“Thanks for picking me up,” I say.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a fifty dollar bill. It’s about all I have left in cash right now. Before I left, I took out enough money to last, but it’s gone dry at this point.

“Your money’s no good here,” he says, waving a hand at me. “Got lots of you coming over here asking for rides. It’s no trouble.”

On the steering wheel is a wool cover. The man is wearing thick clothing. This man is part of the logging industry.

“Thanks,” I mutter. “I appreciate it.”

“Where you headed?” he asks me.

I almost reply saying nowhere, fast, but I catch myself and bite my tongue. “Seattle, but all I need is the Greyhound station.”

This is going to be a long journey to find peace. And then I’ll have to deal with my contract and my team… shit, I’m never going to play again. They’ll probably sue the crap out of me. I already know Bronson is going to try and take a few swings. My plan isn’t a plan at all. It’s just plain dumb. I’ve reached my all time low and I can feel it. How can any man be so stupid?

“Well, we’re nearby the greyhound station. Can’t say it’s the best in comfort level though,” he says, chortling to himself.

“That’s fine. I do okay in bad situations anyway,” I say.

The time passes with some short silence. Outside my window are the green trees and the rocky, muddy earth. There’s a feeling of longing in the weather today. I can feel it in myself as well.

Finally, the driver straightens his hat and asks, “Run into some hard times?”

“I guess you could call it that,” I say.

“We all go through some things in this life, don’t we?” he asks. I nod and agree with him. “The point is that you have to keep pushing forward. Whatever it is you’re trying to find is going to come in a form you weren’t expecting.”

I don’t let my eyes wander from the passing businesses. They all look run down, but they contain a feeling of innocence. I start to wonder about the people who live here. They’re probably a lot like this guy. Hardworking and honest, but with enough problems to fill a mansion.

These people don’t run from their troubles. They keep their eyes forward. When all the memories hit me, I chose to run. So what does that make me? A coward? But I led my team to victory six different times. I held my shit together since the beginning. All those things mean nothing to people now. I’ve heard the reports on the radio. I’ve been vilified. They turned me into a demon and it’s all because I couldn’t play for them anymore. I just didn’t have it in me.

All of a sudden, the truck stops. I can see that we’re at the station now. A sense of purpose fills my bones.

“Thanks a lot for the ride,” I say.

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t want to say nothing, but I think I know who you are. You’re that hockey player, right? The one they’ve been looking for all this time?” he asks.

“Shoot,” I sigh.

“I’m not giving you up. That’s your business. But I am a big fan. I watch the games as much as I can. ‘Course Chicago was never my team.” He laughs. “If you ever decide to play again, shout me out. My daughter would get a real kick out of that. She won’t believe I took you to a bus station.”

“Sure thing,” I say.

I instinctually reach into my pocket for a pen, so I can sign something of his. There’s no pen, no matter how much I dig. I keep forgetting who and where I am.

I shake the guy’s hand and walk over to the ticket station. “Sold out,” the cashier says, before I can even speak.

“There’s nothing available?” I ask.

“I said it was sold out.” The man goes back to reading a comic book.

It’s going to be a long fucking week. I can already tell. I grab the fifty out of my pocket and place it on the counter. “I need some change for the phone.”

“Sure, there’s a change machine—”

“I said I need some change,” I repeat. “There’s a ten dollar bill in this if you want.”

“Right away, sir.” The man rolls his eyes and grabs me my change.

I walk over to the phone booth and dial the number.

“Hey Bronson. What’s up? It’s Lawrence,” I say. The heavy breeze hits the window of the booth.

I hear a long sigh and then I hear a roar. “Lawrence? You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I’m not fooling around,” I tell him.

“Shit!” He whispers. “Look, just call me back tomorrow, same time. Cool?”

“Cool.”