Coach Dan placed the letter down, began to think of how he would respond to Josef as he opened cabinet and container doors and lids in preparation of his evening meal. He made it his goal to respond to the weekly letters from his old coach with a monthly repsonse of his own (in a letter of course — Josef was equally resistant to receiving more technologically advanced communications as he was sending them). His letters addressed, point by point, each of his former coach’s criticisms. He wasn’t sure when he had sent his last letter, but he felt compelled this evening —
Compelled. Coach Dan was attuned to his compulsions, was wary of their power over his life. What was compelling him?
You didn’t just come to Bark Bay, the olive-skinned (Prajakta was it?) had said. You were escaping from something.
Escape. Running from, rather than running to. Retreat, parry, no advance, no lunge, arm not extended.
Do you know what you were escaping from?
shhhrEEEN. When Coach Dan’s telephone broke a few years back he had replaced it with the cheapest model he could find, and was too proud to admit that its irritating ring was proof that he had made a mistake. shhhrEEEN. He placed the carton of milk in his hand on the counter, walked with purpose to the phone.
The name on the caller ID screen was FRIEDMAN COLLEEN. His old high school teacher. Coach Dan sighed, picked up the receiver.