Chances

I can’t believe it. The first job interview I’ve had in literal months and I’m running late. All because of stupid technology. 

“I would turn right,” I said aloud to the repetitive monotone female voice emanating from the speakers, “if there was actually a road to turn right on to!” The glassy blue water gave me an apologetic awkward wink in response. 

This was the fifth time. 

I’d rerouted the GPS, both on my phone and the car five times already and each new route had been a bust. A lake, a dirt road dead end, an empty alley full’a nothin’ but trash and frustration – everywhere but the company I was trying to get to. I’d even called the company, spoken to the receptionist and followed her verbal directions. Either I was an idiot, or she was, or the tech was, or this company didn’t exist. 

“Maybe I’m in hell?” I pondered banging my head against the steering wheel in despair as the female voice repeated infuriatingly, “Turn right.”

Turn right, turn right, turn right, turn RIGHT, TURN RIGHT!

“Alright, you want me to turn right?” I snapped flipping the car back into drive and jerking the wheel. “I’ll turn right.”

I slammed on the gas. The tires screeched. Dirt, dust, and rocks pinged against the sides. And I turned right. Right into the glittering blue lake. 

It only took three seconds for me to realize what a complete lunatic asshole I was being. Unfortunately for me though the wheels were already submerged by that point, stuck in the mud and completely irreversible. 

“Son of a -,” I cussed having the miraculous singular brain molecule to pull the emergency brake and clamber up out of the skylight as opposed to out through the half submerged door. I added a bunch of other loud unattractive other words to the previous ones as I scrambled out and slid down into the water. And, yes, of course I was clumsy and ended up fully entirely submerging myself. Because, of course!

Several cusswords and one fully soaked and broken cellphone later, I was stood on the side of the road I’d just ditched watching my car slowly, despite the emergency brake, slide into a watery grave.

“Awesome,” I shook my head, “just absolutely awesome.” I looked reflexively down at the lifeless brick in my hand. Waterproof my ass. In one final wave of idiocy I tossed it into the lake. After all, it was no use to me anymore. 

“Whelp,” I sighed forcing my wet hands into my sopping suit pants pockets. Another angering move. Why couldn’t cloth just do what it was supposed to do? Why did it have to – “aaagh!” I gave up, flinging my hands into the air and jumping on the spot. The bratty kid in me was fully in control of my body now. I jumped and stomped and kicked rocks, chucking the smaller ones into the lake, denting my doomed vehicle in the process. 

After a couple of good guttural screams I was done. 

Done and jobless.

Still.

Whelp, I guess I’m not much worse off than I was before, the unable-to-face-reality side of me tried to be positive. But, the pragmatic thirty-two year old adult side of my brain, that had just witnessed everything, reminded me that I legitimately was worse off now. I’d literally just tossed both my phone and my car into a lake. 

I buried my shaking head in my hands, dug my fingers into my scalp and let out a body shuddering sigh. Eyes still closed, head still down, I turned round and smacked bam into something solid. Something real and soft-ish that uttered a feminine, “ouch!” when I did so.   

“What the f - ?,” I exclaimed as I stumbled back a few paces and raised my fists for a fight. The something I’d bumped into was small-ish and slender, with flowing blonde hair and porcelain skin, which was scrunched up on the face in confusion, shock, and assumed mild injury. She blinked at me and I recognized those shimmering grey eyes. 

“Wanda?” I marveled. My ex-bestfriend, high school tennis rival, secret first love, Wanda Fleming? 

I must’ve died. Really, at some point on my way to that stupid job interview at the company I must’ve died. But, maybe I’d gone to heaven and not hell? Or perhaps this was purgatory? Not all good – like definitely not all good – but not all bad either. How else could Wanda-freaking Fleming be standing here in front of me right now? 

“It is you,” she said with a laugh, lowering her head-holding hands and pressing them to her heart, “I thought it was you. What on earth are you doing out here, Grant Branson?”

“Trying to pass the afterlife test, I guess.”

“What?”

“I’m dead, right?”

“Um,” she glanced back over her shoulder at nothing, looking back with an expression of confused fear. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Then, how are you out here?”

“Um, I drove,” she said, pointing back to the nice yellow mini cooper that she’d left parked on the road.

“What for?”

“Fun?”

“Oh come on,” I laughed, “come up with some creative at least.”

“What would you like me to say?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged feeling a long forgotten playful monster inside of me rear its sleepy head at Wanda Fleming’s sudden reappearance. “Say that you were – working for the FBI investigating, like, vampires in the woods or something.”

“Like Twilight?” she asked with a teasing twinkle in her eye

“No,” I shook my head with a full on real laugh, “not Twilight. More like, Supernatural or Fringe or something. Or tell me that you – got lost on your way to a job interview because the stupid GPS wasn’t working and so in frustration you drove your car into a lake and now you’re just standing here jobless, car-less and phoneless because you also chucked that into the lake.”

She pursed her lips, smothering a smile.

“Is that what happened to you?”

“No,” I exclaimed, and then, “maybe.”

Her laughter cascaded out like a glittering waterfall that covered me head to toe in mirth. I was smiling so much that my cheeks hurt. Oh, I’d missed that laugh. I hadn’t realized how much I’d memorized and fantasized about that laugh until this moment. Man – I’d never stopped loving her.

“So,” she composed herself and dipped her chin in that way that she did. That way that made her look sneaky and irresistible. She had to know that it made her absolutely irresistible. “Do you need a ride back to reality then?”

“Well, that depends,” I played a bit, “will you be there?”

“Maybe,” she tilted her head with a little smile, “if you take your chances this time.”

My heart was thudding in my throat.  Don’t worry mate, it promised me, I’ll kill you before she has a chance to. She smiled wider and then, turning slowly, walked back to her car. 

Entirely entranced I followed her. It was as if she’d attached a set of tow truck cables to my heart and stomped on the gas. The entirety of my essence was entirely focused on hers. Every swish of her hair, every sway of her hips, every single delicate footstep. Everything. She glanced back at me once and that was it. My knees went weak and my heart just about exploded, anxious to make good on its promise before it was too late.

It’s too late, I informed him.

She stopped at her car, turned, leaned back against it, and looked at me. Her lusciously long lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she blinked up at me. I was right there. Right in front of her. I was holding her hand, touching her cheek. I was leaning in close…

I was waking up in bed.

The alarm was screaming at me, Get up get up! You’ve got a very important job interview to get to! Get up get up!

I slapped and squeezed the sides of my not-broken cellphone and the alarm stopped. Silence filled the room again. Empty lonely silence…

A dream…it had all been a dream…

I got to the job interview with fifteen minutes to spare, hit a homerun out of the park, and left with a phone, a car, and a job. But, I left alone.

Maybe, if you take your chances this time, Wanda’s melodic voice looped in my head again. She was right. I’d never taken my chances. Not with her. Not with the career I’d always wanted. Not with anything. 

Maybe, if you take your chances this time.

Starting up the car I drove over to the place that I’d been avoiding ever since my injury.

The Glass Lake Tennis Club.

“Branson, my man!” Justin, my old doubles partner, greeted me with a raucous shout and a handshake hug. “How ya been, Grant? How’s the shoulder?”

“Better,” I said.

“All better?”

“A lot better.”

“Enough to - ?” he left the question unsaid and just raised his eyebrow instead.

“I think it’s well about time I give it a try.”

“Yes! Alright, let’s go. I was just about to play a round of doubles with Harrison, lemme see…hey, Harrison!” Justin shouted to a guy in an orange, “Branson’s back. Mind sitting out this match?”

“Grant Branson?” the Harrison guy sauntered over, “I figured you were all done with tennis. What was it you had again? Shoulder replacement surgery?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re gonna play again?”

“I’m gonna try.”

“Good luck, man,” Harrison scoffed with an eye roll that couldn’t really be taken positively. At all. 

“Thanks, man,” I lowered my voice down into one of those mock serious tones that had the desired effect of making Harrison’s nose scrunch in disgust as he left. Justin, who’d been looking at his phone, missed all of the pettiness. He just knew that when Harrison’s hulking form was no longer there that it was time to stop being distracted.

“Alright, get changed, and we’ll be on court seven.”

“My lucky number,” I smiled, slapped Justin on the shoulder and disappeared into the locker room to change from my suit into a more appropriate fit. My shoulder, which had been fine for months, ached slightly. I could practically hear it whining, “But I can’t play tennis. I’m all metal and plastic.”

“Come on,” I whispered, rolling my shoulders up and down, forward and back, whilst heading out to the bright and sunny court seven. It really was too bright. I’d forgotten my sunglasses and had to squint massively just to see small-ly. 

There were three figures on the court. The lone one was tall and male. That had to be Justin. The other two were oddly shaped. A husband and wife or father daughter duo, I surmised as one was male and large in that way that elderly men get as they age. Still fit, but big in an old man kinda way. Meanwhile, the figure next to him was small-ish and slender, with flowing blonde hair and porcelain skin that sparkled in the sun. 

“A Twilight vampire,” I muttered as a cloud overhead provided just enough shade to sharpen my vision. The beautiful girl with familiar grey eyes turned and saw me. Recognition dawned in the glittering depths of her eyes and my dream became miraculous reality as her face transformed with a blinding smile. 

“Grant Branson, is that you?” she exclaimed, shielding her eyes for confirmation.

“Wanda Fleming?”

“AAaagh!” She shrieked and ran over to me, arms outstretched.

Maybe, if you take your chances this time.

I opened my arms wide and ran the last few steps toward her so that when we collided in a bone breaking hug I had to pick her up and twirl her around to keep the both of us from toppling over. She giggled and shrieked in my ear as her arms circled round my neck and held me tight. 

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed when I finally set her down and we broke apart. “I can’t believe it’s you! How are you? I heard that you had to have your shoulder replaced? Oh my god, is your shoulder ok? Did I hurt it just now?” her eyes were lakes of glittering emotion as she clutched at my shoulders, unsure of which one was the ‘replaced’ one. 

“It’s fine,” I assured her, still holding tight to her sides, reluctant to let her go.

“But, should you be playing? I mean,” she turned, “is it ok to play after shoulder replacement, Dad?” She looked back over her shoulder at the older man that I now recognized as her father, and suddenly I was sixteen again. I dropped my hands, feeling my face heat up to a hundred degrees, and backed away a step. 

“Maybe not professionally,” her dad said, “but a friendly game of doubles should be fine. But really, Grant’s the only that would know if he can play or not, right Grant.”

“Yes sir,” had I lost my drivers license? Was I wearing braces again? I hadn’t been expecting this. “Like you said, a friendly game of doubles should be fine. Shall we find out?”

“I think so,” he nodded, approvingly I hoped. He flipped his racket, moving back into position and Wanda, after a final concerned look at me, joined him. I joined Justin.

“Y’alright, man?” he asked, a line between his brows, “you’re not having heatstroke are you?”

“I’m all good,” I assured him, bouncing on the balls of my jittery feet, “let’s play.”

Justin nodded, said something to Wanda’s dad, and the game started … and then it was over. 

High fives were exchanged, water was drunk, words were said, but all that I could think about was Wanda, all that I could see was Wanda and all that I could hear was Wanda’s voice from my dream – looping over and over again. 

Maybe, if you take your chances this time…

“Maybe we can play again sometime,” she was saying to me in reality out in the parking lot, stopping just shy of her dad’s car to say goodbye to me.

“Yeah,” I nodded, “that’d be nice.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, looked at me, her eyes bouncing back and forth between mine. That moment stretched on for eternity. A good moment. My moment…

“Well,” she said after that whole-lotta-nothing moment, “I gotta go. It was nice seeing you.”

“Yeah,” I said again, and there she was – walking away from me. 

I’d missed it. 

Missed her. 

Again.

Maybe, if you take your chances this time.

“Wanda!” I shouted. She stopped, and looked back, her hand on the top of the open car door. She raised a single perfect eyebrow.

“It wouldn’t be,” I said. 

“Hm?”

“It wouldn’t be nice,” I said louder.

“What?” she frowned.

“I mean,” I jogged over to her, hands trembling, words tumbling. “I don’t want to play tennis with you.”

“Oh,” her face blanched.

“I want to take you on a date.”

“Oh,” the whites of her eyes grew as her eyes flew open wide. 

“I’ve loved you ever since high school,” the words were flowing now and I couldn’t make them stop. Not anymore. I’d spent my whole life making them stop. I couldn’t anymore. “I was always too afraid to ruin our friendship to risk asking you out then, but now – I can’t – I don’t think I would – ever forgive myself if I let you get away from me again.”

A moment of silence passed. A moment that was just long enough for me to hear the monster of embarrassment shouting at me that her father was in the car and he could hear every single humiliating word that I was saying.

“Would you,” I spoke quieter now, my voice lower so that only us two could hear it, “would you go on a date with me? Please?”

“Ok.”

“OK?”

“Yes,” she laughed a little breathlessly, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “Give me your phone.”

I handed the brick over, grateful that it wasn’t broken at the bottom of a lake somewhere. She took it in her dainty hand and imputed a number. Her phone started to ring. She held it up to show me my own number ringing on her screen.

“Call me,” she said as with a smile as she returned my phone, slipped into her father’s car and drove away with a wave. 

“I will!” I shouted waving after her like a love-struck teenager. Her hand disappeared into the car and my phone buzzed. It was a text from her number.

“I’m so glad you took your chance. If you hadn’t …… I was about to turn around and take mine.”

I was gonna need plastic surgery to remove the smile from my face.

The End.