by Claire Adams
I was in the zone, at last. It had taken a long time to get back here, but finally, I had arrived. I don't know what it was, but I'd finally snapped out of the funk I'd been in, and had been playing like I was on fire.
The serve was good, but Leena defended it perfectly and set up an attack for me – a perfect attack. I sprang high into the air and smashed the ball earthwards in a perfect, missile-strike spike. It blasted through a gap between two UCLA players and bounced hard off the court.
That was another point for us. The home crowd went wild, but I didn't even hear their roars and cheers – it was all just a vague, fuzzy background sound in my mind. All I could really hear was the steady beating of my heart and the slow, measured breaths that entered into my lungs and then were pushed out.
It was match point, and we had the serve. Leena served a great one, but a UCLA player managed to defend it with a pretty spectacular dive. They sent the ball back over the net into our court with a savage attack, but I jumped dramatically through the air and defended it, setting up an attack for my team as I did. Again, UCLA defended, and I'd only just gotten to my feet again when the ball came zipping right at me as they tried for a spike.
I dove hard and saved the ball just inches from the ground, setting up yet another attack. Leena smashed the ball over the net, and I scrambled to my feet, breathing hard. This time, I knew what I was going to do – something I hadn't done for a while.
The sneaky, little trick I'd used to fool Tammy so many times.
Everything was set up perfectly. The ball came over the net as they attacked, and I made as if to smash it back at them with all the force I could muster – but, instead, I slowed my arm at the last possible moment, and simply brushed the ball gently over the net, where it dropped and hit the ground to give us the point that won us the match.
I dropped to my knees, panting from the efforts of the last volley, and heard the crowd going mad in the background. I felt my teammates hugging me and clapping their hands on my shoulders and back, but it all seemed like it was happening to someone else, like I was watching it on a movie screen or something.
I heard my coach's voice in my ear as she clapped her own hand on my shoulder.
“Well done, Eryn, well done! You're the star of the game! Forget everything I said before – you're on top!”
“Thanks, Coach,” I heard myself mumble in reply. “Thanks.”
I walked off the court with the rest of the team, giving the crowd a half-hearted wave as I headed toward the locker room. I didn't know why, but somehow – as good as this victory was – it just felt a little hollow. I was just going through the motions.
All I wanted to do was to get home and relax in front of the TV.
*****
“Aw c'mon, Eryn, it'll be fun. And, you played so well today, you deserve to treat yourself and celebrate.”
Leena was usually pretty good at twisting my arm, but I had been doing a bang-up job of resisting her tonight. I hadn't felt like doing anything, and really had just wanted to stay in, but she, Callum, and some of his friends were going out to a new bar in town that seemed like it could be an interesting place, a bar called The Fishbowl. There was a band from L.A. playing who I'd wanted to see for a while, so finally, after all of Leena’s persuasion, I gave in.
“All right, all right, I'll come. Just let me get dressed and put on some makeup,” I said with a somewhat melodramatic sigh.
Half an hour later, I was all dressed up for the first time since arriving in California. A glance in the mirror before we left reminded me that I cleaned up fairly well. Despite my earlier reluctance, I now felt pretty good about agreeing to a night out. I couldn't let myself stay stuck in a funk forever, and even though I couldn't deny that I missed Wade terribly, it would be good to try to distract myself from thinking about him for a while.
Callum was a tall, handsome guy with blond hair and your stereotypical surfer’s tan. He was taking Leena and me out with some of his buddies from the football team. He drove us out to the bar in his Range Rover, and we started out the evening with a few shots.
The opening band was great, and they reminded me a little of the Red Hot Chili Peppers with their funky rock vibe. This, of course, immediately made me think of Wade and our shared love of ’90s music, and at that, I couldn't help but feel a little sad.
After the opening band left the small stage, Leena, Callum, myself, and Callum's two friends, Oliver and Irving, went to sit at a table near the stage to wait for the headlining band to take the stage. I couldn’t recall the band’s name.
Irving sat next to me and immediately moved his chair a little closer. He'd been shooting glances at me all evening, and it was pretty obvious that he was attracted to me. He was a good-looking guy with a strong jaw, jet-black hair, and features that made me think he was probably from an Italian family. And, of course, like the other guys, he was built from football and working out.
“What are you having to drink?” he asked me.
“Um, I guess just a Smirnoff Ice,” I replied.
“Awesome. It's on me,” he said with a smile.
“Thanks.”
He ordered me a drink as a waitress walked past our table, and then he struck up a conversation with me, being very attentive and looking me in the eye as we talked.
“I was at the volleyball game earlier,” he said. “You were just amazing out there. You've got serious talent.”
I blushed. I’d never been very good at taking compliments. “Aw, thanks, Irving! I appreciate that. I'll have to come watch you guys play football sometime.”
“You should. We've got a killer lineup this season, and we're gonna steamroll whatever team comes up against us, I guarantee that.”
“So that band was really great huh?” I said, trying to make conversation. “Don't you think they sounded like the Chili Peppers?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Hmm, not really. What makes you say that?”
“No, I mean like how the early ’90s Chili Peppers sounded.”
“The Chili Peppers were around in the ’90s? Shit, well, I was in kindergarten then; how was I supposed to know that? Hmm, I guess I only know, like, two Chili Peppers songs, anyway. There's that one that was big last year...and, uh, I dunno, I kinda forgot the name of the other one. I'm too busy to listen to music much.”
It was obviously rather pointless to talk about music. Irving didn't seem to have any interest in it. He kept the conversation going though, steering it toward another topic.
“You know, you look seriously pretty tonight,” he said, flashing me a charming smile. “Of course, I noticed you on the volleyball court, and you were looking pretty fine then, but damn girl, you're looking smokin' hot right now.”
I chuckled nervously. I couldn't say I didn't appreciate the compliment, but this wasn't what I was after at the moment. And, he really needed to work on his charm. There’s a way to say things to a woman. We’d much rather be told we look beautiful as opposed to looking hot.
Still, he was a good-looking guy, and despite not seeming to have much in common with him, he seemed to be nice enough, so I figured that it wouldn't hurt to at least chat with him.
“Thanks, Irving,” I said with a smile. “You're too kind.”
“I'm just telling the truth,” he replied.
We made some more idle chatter as I sipped on my drink with him doing his best to flirt with me and win me over. Eventually, I finished my drink, but by that time he had already downed two beers. Callum called for another round of shots. I wasn't sure it was a good idea to have them, but before I could refuse, they were already on the table.
“Drink up, ladies and gents!” Callum shouted, and we knocked the shots back with gusto.
“Another Ice?” asked Irving.
“Um, I'm not-”
“That's a yes,” he said, interrupting me. Before I could say anything else, he called the waitress over and ordered another Smirnoff Ice for me.
I was starting to feel tipsy and wa
sn't sure I should have any more, but then another part of me figured, what the hell, might as well cut loose. After all, it was a Saturday night, and I'd been doing a lot of hibernating and wallowing in self-pity and misery recently.
As I got my next drink, the main act took the stage. They started playing, and they were so good that it actually lifted my spirits.
In fact, after a couple of songs, I felt so good that I got up and joined the crowd of people who were dancing at the front of the stage. Irving came and joined me, bringing me a fresh drink. By this time, I was too buzzed and having too good a time to say no, so I just took it and drank it as I was dancing.
After the band finished, I went back to the table, reeling from the awesome music and the fun dancing – and feeling more than a bit buzzed from all the drinks I'd had.
“They were great, weren't they?” exclaimed Leena.
“Absolutely amazing!” I replied.
“All right, who's ready for stage two of this party?” Callum asked. “I think it's time to hit the club!”
“I don't think so,” I said. “I think I want to call it a night.”
“Are you sure?” Leena asked. “The night is still young!”
“Um, I'm feeling pretty beat myself,” Irving interjected before I could answer. “Say, Eryn, I could give you a ride home if you want. I've got my car here.”
“Yeah, Eryn and Leena live near your place, Irv,” Callum said to Irving. “That works out pretty well.”
“I, um-” I began, but Irving quickly silenced me.
“Perfect,” he said, taking my hand as he began to lead me out of the bar, and pulling almost forcefully on my arm. “See you tomorrow, guys. And don't worry, Leena, I'll make sure your friend gets home just fine.”
Irving pulled me out of the bar and flashed Leena a smile as they followed us to the parking lot – even though a sudden feeling of dread was starting to creep its poisonous tendrils through my veins.
I didn't have a good feeling about this. In fact, I had a really, really bad feeling about this.
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.