6.
Rich
It takes me a good while to shake the feeling of what a total ass I’d been. Normally, thanks to my fame, mishaps like that stuck with me longer than a minute, but, for some reason, I just can’t stop thinking about it.
Maybe you’re not so charming after all, Richie. Hard to tell when you live in a vacuum where no one will give you honest opinion.
It’s an interesting thought and one I haven’t really considered before. But the more I do consider it, the more sense it begins to make. Of course I’d been living in a bubble of ego! When you were the top-rated player in one of the most popular sports in the world, you weren’t exactly afforded many opportunities to get a birds-eye view of the situation.
Before heading into the resort, I wait several minutes, long enough so that Becca has time to check in and go to her room. Perhaps it was best not to run into each other for a while. Besides, I had no doubt that there would be more opportunities; and maybe next time, sober Rich would fare a little better.
So I sit back in the limousine, close my eyes, and wait. Five minutes pass, and then ten. Finally, I climb out of the backseat and nod at my chauffeur. He’s leaned up against the trunk with a cigarette between his fingers. He flicks the cigarette to the ground and stamps it out. As he pulls my bag out of the trunk, a bellboy rushes up and takes it from him.
“Welcome to paradise, sir,” the young bellboy says to me, his voice squeaking. Thanking the chauffeur, I follow him into the resort. Two minutes later, I’m checked in under a fake name, my keycard in hand.
Following the bellboy out of the lobby, I enter the resort proper. All around me there are people drinking a variety of tropical drinks, little umbrellas sticking out of their glasses. Some are relaxed in lounge chairs while others are splashing around in the pools. The bellboy leads me over to a stone path. Two minutes later, we’ve reached my villa, the second to last in a long line of them. Dropping my bag at my door, the bellboy wishes me well, skipping off before I can tip him.
As soon as I’m inside my villa, I sprawl out on the bed. What to do now, Richie?
Like I’d said, this was the first time in years my schedule was completely clear. It’s a new and wondrous and totally nerve-wracking feeling. Usually my days were regimented down to the hour. A morning workout followed by a large breakfast followed by film study followed by a deep-tissue massage and mobility work followed by a hearty lunch followed by an afternoon workout followed by dinner followed by…all the way until I collapsed into bed each night. Only to go to sleep so I could wake up and do it all over again.
But there was nothing like that here. I was completely free, for the next two months, at least. Even then, I’d been toying lately with the idea of never returning. Did I have any reason to? I had more than enough money squirrelled away. What could I get out of football that I hadn’t already gotten?
I lay unmoving for several minutes, unsure as to how to begin my vacation. I contemplate checking my e-mail. No point. Probably just more messages from my teammates asking how I was doing, if I was handling the media storm alright. Ugh. I didn’t even want to think about it. As Jim, my closest friend and most trusted tight end, had said: there was no escaping bad press. So why let it bother you?
Of course, there was bad press, and then there was bad press. Unfortunately, what was happening now qualified as the latter. For the first time in my career, I had started receiving hate mail. Even my sponsors were talking of dropping me.
No. I wouldn’t think about it. Closing my eyes and using some techniques one of the team masseuses had taught me, I force myself to release the bad thoughts. You’re not a bad person. Everything everyone is saying about you right now isn’t true. This is what happens when you date a crazy person.
I open my eyes and look around. The alcohol has made me drowsy, as have the white walls of this room. The techniques have worked. My mind is blank now; I feel delightfully calm. Several minutes pass. I begin to drift in and out of consciousness. The world is quiet save for a single bird chirping just outside the window and the gentle rush of waves as they roll up onto the beach.
I’m not down for long. Old habits die hard, as they say. Soon enough, my muscles start to twitch, my body aching to do something. Two days have passed since my last workout. A record in my world. Operating on autopilot, I roll off the bed onto the floor and set to a bodyweight workout.
Twenty minutes later, I’m covered in sweat and feel back to my normal self. The exercise has worked the last of the alcohol out of my system. Just as I’m finishing my last set of pushups, a knock sounds on my door. My first thought is that it’s Becca. Has she come to ask me out? Laughing, I grab a towel from the bathroom and wipe my face as I unlock the front door. What a silly thought!
“Yes?” I say, pulling open the door to reveal a pretty, young woman in a resort uniform. I’m shirtless, my chest pumped up and glistening with sweat. The young woman immediately blushes, her eyes falling down to my stomach.
“Hi…” she says, swallowing heavily as her blush deepens.
“Yes?” I press. Seeing me, she seems to have forgotten why she’s here. Behind her is a rolling cart on top of which sits a fruit platter and a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice.
“W-we just wanted to welcome you once more to The Sandy, sir,” she stammers. The look she’s giving me is a look I know well, a look most women gave me. “We’re so glad to have you here with us and wanted to bring you this champagne and fruit platter as a token of our appreciation.”
Her speech finished, she takes a steps back and presents the cart with a flourish of her hand, her fingers shaking.
“Sounds great,” I say, stepping to one side of the door. “Just wheel it on in here.”
The girl pushes the cart into my villa, drawing in a sharp breath as her shoulder grazes my chest. She continues on into the bedroom, unloading the tray of fruit and the champagne bucket onto a small table next to the back door. She begins to arrange some silverware. It’s obvious she’s stalling now. Every few seconds, she glances over her shoulder at me. I’m still standing by the front door, not saying a word.
“So, uhh…” she begins, rearranging the silverware for the third time. “I guess that’s all—”
“Thanks so much,” I say, cutting her off as I flash my most charming smile. “I really appreciate it. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”
Understanding clearly that she’s been dismissed, the young woman grabs her cart and wheels it back out onto the sidewalk, looking like I’ve just told her that I drowned her puppy. Just outside the door, she turns back at me, her mouth opening as if to speak. Before she can say anything, I thank her again and close the door.
Feeling just a tad bit guilty though I know it’s for the best (no reason to make the girl she had a chance), I go over to the table and begin to munch on fresh fruit as I contemplate taking a shower. But why take a shower when I could just go for a quick dip in the ocean? After all, wasn’t that what it was there for?
Changing quickly into a pair of swim trunks, I pop two more pieces of mango into my mouth and leave out the back door of the villa, not bothering to grab sandals or even lock my door as I go.
There’s a small path leading from the back of the veranda down to the beach. The afternoon is moving right along now, though there is still plenty of sunlight left. With the cloudless sky overhead and the sun so warm on my face, it feels like the perfect time for a quick dip followed by a walk.
I sigh happily when I reach the beach and my toes dig into the warm sand. A group of young women are just passing by, a smile erupting on each of their faces as their eyes fall down to my bared chest. Seeing the hesitation in their eyes as they think about talking to me, I bound down the surf. Though I can’t deny I enjoy the attention one got from being in such great shape, sometimes it really made me feel like a piece of meat. Didn’t they know I just wanted to be left alone?
The water is perfect. It’s like Goldilocks’ porridge: not too hot, not too cold. I wade in, taking a deep breath and diving in the rest of the way when the water is up to my thighs. Surfacing a moment later, I swim straight out towards open water with long, powerful strokes. I have to dive under several waves but before long am beyond the break, the waves now no more than a gentle swell. Nearby, several surfers are sitting on their boards. Not a one is talking, all of them just bobbing up and down as they relax in cool air of the waning afternoon.
Out of breath, I flip over onto my back and let myself float. Overhead, several seagulls are sitting in the air with their wings spread wide. Just like the surfers on their boards, they too seem to be doing nothing more than watching the day as it moves along.
Utter peace soon washes over me. Floating out here in Mother Nature’s warm embrace, no sound save the buzz of the ocean itself in my ears, I begin to feel like a part of something greater, of the grand spectacle of life itself. Funny how we humans spent so much of our short time on this planet wrapped up in our own little unimportant stories. It was so easy to forget that there was so much more to life than whatever trivia we allowed ourselves to be preoccupied with.
The longer I float and let my mind wander, the better and more at ease I feel. Who cared about football? Who cared about worldly success or fame or fortune or leaving a legacy? It all meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. All that mattered was this moment, the one you were living in, the one right here, right now. Everything else was just pretty dressing meant to complement the real meat of existence.
Never really having been one for deep thought living as I did in the world of action, something about being out here amongst the waves seemed to be bringing it out of me. Deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole I go, my soul expanding the further I sink. By the time I tire and begin my swim back to shore, I feel as wide open and expansive as I’ve ever felt, my mind wholly content.
Emerging from the water some minutes later, feeling just like some primordial sea monster as I stumble out of the surf, I set off down the beach, an irrepressible grin on my lips. Everything was looking so new and so fresh. It was like I was seeing it all for the very first time; it was all so amazingly beautiful.
I’m not really thinking of anything in particular as I walk along, just enjoying the way the wet sand feels between my toes. The beach is rather crowded now, everyone out for their pre-dinner walks. Thankfully, not a soul talks to me, though once again I notice several groups of women looking my way as I pass.
I walk for some time down the beach, picking up a shell or two as I go, the crowds slowly thinning around me. Only when I realize that I haven’t passed a person in several minutes and that there is nothing ahead of me but empty sand do I turn around, taking a second short dip in the ocean before continuing on towards the resort. My stomach is rumbling now. Too long I’ve been without food.
My thoughts return sometime on the stroll back. I’m so lost in them, I don’t even realize I’ve made it back to the resort until I practically run into a beach umbrella and the large man sprawled out underneath. As usual, I’m thinking again about all that I’ve left behind. For the first time, I’m not feeling bothered by it. Let the world say what it wanted; I knew the truth. Of course, I would eventually have to go back and confront it all, but that was a problem for a future Rich.
Excusing myself, I take my leave of the large man and his umbrella and shuffle back down to the water’s edge. For several minutes, I let the dregs of each wave tickle my toes as I continue to mull my predicament over. Would it all go away someday? I sure as hell hoped so.
I move slowly down the beach towards my villa, my mind working to picture the situation back home. No doubt Jim was still doing his best to put out the fires I’d left behind. A good friend, that Jim. I was going to have to do something big to repay him. It was thanks to him that I had escaped unscathed. It was he who had told me about the rumors Charlotte had begun to spread, he who had called and warned me that reporters were waiting for me at the stadium. At his suggestion, I had bought the first flight out I could. Just to be sure, I had chosen Portland as my point of departure, and only after I had purchased the ticket had I booked this resort.
Suddenly, I’m struck by the feeling of being watched. Turning away from the water, I look around. The few couples left on the beach are all minding their own business. I continue to spin in a slow circle, my eyes finally falling upon the row of villas above the beach.
And that is when I see her. She’s seated in a chair on the wooden deck of the villa next to mine. She’s staring straight at me, an empty glass in her hand. Not knowing what else to do, I raise my hand in greeting.
Don’t just wave like an idiot, Rich. Go up and talk to her.
Probably not a good idea. I had already made enough of a fool of myself for one day as it were. There was no need to try my luck again, and certainly not so soon. Though I wasn’t one to give up so easily, sometimes it was better to wait. Not that I was even supposed to be thinking about going up to her. I was here to lay low.
Still, everything in me is telling me to do it. She’s still wearing the same clothes she arrived in and is looking as beautiful as ever. Holding my gaze, she ever so slowly raises her hand in return greeting. Is it just me, or is there a hint of a smile on her face?
Do it! Do it!
No. I wasn’t going to be that guy. The woman had said she wasn’t looking for anything. So I was going to listen to her and leave her alone. What I needed to do was turn and walk away.
But I can’t. I’m frozen in place. I glance down at her drink and raise an eyebrow. She shrugs, a smile most definitely now on her lips. Our eyes meet again. My mind is screaming at me all sorts of terrible things, trying desperately to get me to move. I must be looking at her pretty intensely because she looks down at the railing, unable to hold my gaze. She glances back up a moment later, a blush spreading across her cheeks. It seems that she’s the one now stuck in indecision.
Her mind makes itself up a moment later. Still stuck to my spot on the sand, I watch as she gets up from the chair and turns away from me. In three quick strides she’s inside her villa, the door and curtain swishing shut behind her.
When she’s out of sight, I sigh involuntarily, my shoulders slumping just like a flag that has suddenly found itself without wind. Why was I feeling like I had somehow failed?
With another sigh, I turn back to the beach. Well, at least now I knew. Obviously, only I felt the way I did. The visceral reaction I had had upon seeing her wasn’t mutual. This feeling, one of unrequited interest, was one I wasn’t used to. I didn’t like it very much, even if it was for the best. It reminded too much of junior high, of that time when I had yet to become a star quarterback and all the girls had all but ignored me. More specifically, it reminded me of the very first girl I had ever had a crush on. The same pounding in my heart now was the same sickly pounding I had felt back then. Back then, it had felt like I would die if the girl I liked didn’t like me back.
What was wrong with me? I had assumed I would never feel this way again. But I do. Why was this one so different? What was so special about her?
I have my head down and my hands jammed in the pockets of my swim trunks, my feet kicking at the sand as I saunter back down the beach. I’m so deep inside of myself that the world around me is no longer registering. Once again, I’m replaying the moment of my arrival at the resort over and over again. What a jerk I’d been! If only I had—
“Rich! Wait up!”
Hearing my name snaps me out it. I come to a stop and slowly raise my head. Someone was calling me? But who—
“Rich!”
I turn, my mind unwilling to believe what my ears are telling it. Can it really be her?
“Rich!” Becca calls again. She’s jogging down the beach towards me. She’s wearing a bikini now, a semi-sheer skirt wrapped around her waist.
“I…uhh…” I mumble, at a loss for words as she comes to a stop in front of me, her chest heaving. She too, it seems, has no idea what to say. She’s grinning sheepishly, her head hung as she looks up at me through her long, beautiful lashes.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Hi,” I murmur, still not quite believing it is her. “W-what are you doing here?”
Becca giggles. It’s like champagne sparkling in a glass. “Don’t you remember? We’re staying at the same resort. Didn’t you just wave to me?”
“Uhh…”
“Anyways,” she continues, “I was wondering…” She trails off, a red flush spreading across her cheeks. “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to take a walk with me?”
“Uhh…” Come on, Rich. Get it together!
“You can say no if you don’t want to.”
“Oh no,” I say quickly, not wanting to botch this heaven-sent opportunity and yet deathly afraid I might. “No, wait. I mean yes. Yes, I’d like to. Talk a walk, I mean. With you. Take a walk together. Let’s do it. Or not it, just whatever you want.” It’s my turn to blush now. Wow, so smooth, Richie. Have you ever talked to a woman before? I take a deep breath. When I continue, I sound much calmer than I feel. “Yes, I’d love to take a walk with you.”
Becca laughs again, a glint in her eye that I can’t quite read.
“That’s good,” she says, turning to face the same direction as me. She slides her hand through the crook of my elbow. “I was hoping you’d say yes. Let’s go.”