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.