10.
Rich
I sit there for a long while after Becca leaves just thinking about things, my thoughts like the waves of the ocean, one after another breaking upon the shore of my mind. At first I think of Becca, of the kiss we had just shared, of the wonderful evening I had just spent in her company. But soon my mind turns to other things. I think about where I’d been and how far I’d come since I starting out as that little boy on a small farm in Nebraska. I had lived the highest of highs and the lowest of lows and yet…and yet a part of me still felt like I had only just begun.
This can’t be all there is. Your entire life can’t be about throwing a ball down a field. It just can’t, even if they do pay you handsomely to do it.
Sitting here on this beach, not a single soul in sight, my knees drawn to my chest, suddenly my career was beginning to feel so very unimportant. I loved football but just didn’t know how much longer I could continue to play. Not only would my body eventually give out (already the aches and pains were becoming more noticeable with each passing year), but, if I were being totally honest, I was getting bored of the entire thing. Funny how this was happening just as I was hitting my stride. I was probably, objectively speaking, the best I had ever been. And yet, again and again over these last few weeks, I couldn’t stop dreaming about walking away. I just couldn’t help but feel that something bigger was waiting for me beyond my life as a quarterback. What that was I didn’t know, but I believed it with all of my heart.
People will think you’re crazy for walking away from all that money.
Well, let them. I didn’t need the money anyways. I had more than enough to last me the rest of my life. I wasn’t like a typical player, the kind who spent his money as soon as it hit his bank account. I had never been that way. Ever since my first rookie contract, I had invested damn near everything I had. If I wanted, I would never have to work another day on this planet. Hell, not even my children would need to work, assuming I ever had any.
And the more I thought about it, the more real the possibility of leaving it all behind was becoming. I could just hear the critics now: He threw away his talent. He’s a selfish man for leaving his team like that. He must have been scared, scared that he’d never be as good as he was last year.
Did it honestly matter what they said? Who were these people? What good did they add to the world? In truth, we were all just grown men playing or talking about a game and pretending it was some all-important thing.
Somewhere way out on the water, some creature breaks the surface. A fin appears, distracting me long enough that when I go back to thinking, my thoughts have moved on. Now I’m back to thinking of Becca again, and of Charlotte. How different these two women were from one another! Charlotte was the very definition of the type of women most men dreamt about—tall, regal, charming, devastatingly beautiful. And yet, in my eyes, she couldn’t hold a flame to Becca. There was something so pure about Becca. No hint of pretension, no preoccupation with appearance or with what other people might think of her. She was a genuinely good person, and just as, if not more, beautiful.
Then too, being with Charlotte had been exhausting. It was like I had always been on display. Actually, that was exactly what I had felt like: an accoutrement. Just another fine piece of jewelry for her to wear and to show off to her other vapid friends. And when she couldn’t have me, she had decided to do whatever it took to destroy me. Well, let her do and say whatever she liked; it mattered not to me. She could ruin my career and turn all of my friends and the public against me and I would still be happier than if I had stayed with her. All that mattered was that I still had myself. That was the important thing: never to lose oneself. Anything else was just icing on the cake.
I’m not sure how long I sit there. Eventually, my eyelids begin to grow heavy. Finally, with a sigh, I push myself to my feet, my joints creaking. On the way back to the resort, I follow Becca’s still-visible footprints across the sand. I’m back to thinking now of our kiss. When would I see her again? And when I did, how was I supposed to act? Should I just let her be? The taste of her lips is still fresh upon mine.
Back inside my villa, I strip off my swim trunks and crawl into bed. If I had thought I was tired before, it is nothing compared to the exhaustion gripping me now. I close my eyes, reaching out with one hand and groping around until my fingers find the switch of the lamp on the bedside table. I settle into the sheets, a smile on my lips. The last thing I see before I’m pulled into the darkness is Becca’s shining eyes dancing before me.