Page 2 of Barn Burner
“Maybe I need some music,” I suggest, then inwardly groan. Great, now I’m talking to myself.
I load up a playlist, and as my favourite songs begin to filter through the speakers, the tension lining my shoulders starts to ease. I can do this. I know how to read maps, and I know how to survive while camping. I’ve done it plenty of times back home in England and Upstate New York.
I’m finally starting to relax when a loud beep interrupts the song, causing me to jump.
“Fuckin’ hell,” I curse under my breath and tap the screen on the dashboard as it’s a message from Jude. The Bluetooth system reads it out.
Are you sure you’re alright? I’m sorry I had to leave. If I could have stayed longer, you know I would have. Text me whenever you get a chance so I have proof of life. I love you, bro. Next season is going to be your year. I can just feel it. Oh, and PS: take pics.
I huff a quiet laugh and relax back into my seat.
Yeah, maybe next season will be my year. There’s only so much bad luck a person can experience, right?
Except I only make it another five kilometres when there’s a loud clunk, causing me to frown.
“The fuck?” I mutter, taking my foot off the accelerator.
There’s another loud clunk, and then the car judders before white smoke begins to billow from beneath the bonnet.
No, no,no.
With my heart in my throat, I pull over to the side of the road and turn off the engine. It does nothing to diffuse the smoke that continues to pour from beneath the bonnet.
Closing my eyes, I hit the back of my head against the headrest and let out a defeated groan. “Fuck!”
I sit there for a few minutes, trying not to let the panic take hold over the fact that I’m possibly stranded in the middle of who the fuck knows where, then get out of the car. I don’t know anything about cars. I once had a flat tire in the team parking lot after a game back in New York and ended up having to look on YouTube at how to change to my spare because everyone else had left. And learning to drive on the wrong side of the road has been a challenge in itself.
With a heap of hopeless optimism, I lift up the bonnet. More smoke pours out, and I wave my hand in front of my face. Once it’s cleared enough, I peer in and have a look.
“I don’t know what the fuck I’m looking for,” I mutter. I can’t tell where the smoke is coming from either.
Maybe I can look it up online. Rounding the car, I fetch my phone from the centre console, only when I swipe my finger across the screen to unlock it, there’s one bar of signal. I bring up my web browser and type, “white smoke coming from under car bonnet.” It seems to take forever to load.
“Come on,” I whine, bouncing on my toes. My plea goes unanswered. The screen goes blank, and the last bar of signal disappears. “Fuck!”
Grabbing the keys from the ignition, I slam the door shut and head up the road slightly. Holding my phone up in the air, like getting my phone a few inches closer to the satellite in outer space will do any good, but it doesn’t. I’m pretty sure I have the number for the breakdown service saved in my contacts. Maybe I can call them. When I finally get one bar of signal, I hit Call.
“This number cannot be recognized.”
Great. Just fucking great.
I hit the End button so hard my thumb cracks, and once again, my signal disappears.
The back of my eyes burns with frustration.
“What did I do wrong to deserve this?” I ask, my voice echoing because it’s so damn quiet. “I’ve always been polite. I hold open doors for people. I’ve carried shopping for little old ladies in the supermarket and always took accountability for my actions. So, what. Did. I. Do. To deserve. This?”
Unsurprisingly, I get no response, and I drop my head forward in defeat.
I just wanted a break. A chance to forget about my biggest failure to date. To avoid the press and the journalists picking apart every single thing I did wrong and highlighting why—maybe—the Calgary Bobcats made a mistake signing me.
I just wanted a chance tobreathe.
Resigning myself to the fact that I’ll probably be here for a while, I drop down onto the grass verge and stare at the trees across the road. Knowing the luck I’m having right now, there is a family of grizzly bears watching on. I haven’t seen a bear yet. Or a moose. I’d love to see a moose and that funny dangly thing under their chin. I guess I could sit in my car, but I wanted to be out in nature. Sitting on the side of the road kinda counts, right? I’m still touching grass.
Heaving out a heavy sigh, I lie back, spreading my arms out wide, and close my eyes behind my sunglasses, trying not to let the multitude of emotions that are currently whirling up a storm inside me from taking over.
I don’t know how much time has passed when the sound of tires against the gravel causes a prickle of awareness to travel across my skin. I roll my head to the side, and a red truck comes to a stop behind my car. I can’t see who it is because the sun is hitting the windshield at a blinding angle, but I’m not left guessing for long. The door opens, and a tall man wearing a dark brown cowboy hat gets out.
