https://youtu.be/RWjJBPgIGLI
P.J. Washington turned over comfortably in his bed, searching out a cool spot on his pillow. Not finding one, he briefly opened his eyes so that he could flip the pillow over, thereby accessing an entire untouched expanse of coolness for his head to rest upon.
When his eyes opened, they were dazzled by the large amount of golden-orange sunlight coming in through the window. He blinked a few times, confused. It was supposed to be night, but it was clearly day. How long had he been sleeping? He looked for his phone to check the time, but couldn’t find it.
Something wasn’t right. P.J. sat up and looked out the window of what he thought was his hotel room, but might not be. Outside, he had a view of a sun-drenched hillside upon which were growing a large amount of various fruit trees. The fruits nestled among the leaves glimmered like gems in the late-afternoon sun. It was not the view he expected, and they were clearly somewhere outside the city of Sacramento proper.
P.J. looked around the room for some clothes to put on, but didn’t see any. Curiously, he opened the wardrobe that was against the wall and found a red-tasseled tunic hanging on a hook. He put this on for modesty’s sake as he exited the room, seeking out a teammate who could explain why they had unexpectedly changed hotels without telling him. Had there been a COVID scare? That was the only explanation P.J. could think of. Maybe they were quarantining here, or something.
The hallway he found himself in was distinctly Mediterranean in character. The terracotta tiles felt smooth under his feet and the stucco walls were occasionally broken up by a faded painting of a pastoral scene. He walked down the hallway, peeking into the other rooms he came across but not finding any of them occupied. He went up and down stairs, down branching hallways, but didn’t find any sign of activity in the place, which was seeming more and more like a grand residence and less like a hotel. Not only that, but the complete lack of electric furnishings made it seem like it was a residence frozen in time from centuries long past.
Even when P.J. came to a common area, there was nobody there, and no sign that anybody had been there recently. He continued walking, making a concerted effort to keep track of his whereabouts in the building’s complex floorplan, but after making just two right angles down different hallways, he impossibly found himself back in the common area he had just left, recognizing the marble statue of a horse that he had previously noticed, albeit from a different angle.
P.J. wondered why he didn’t seem to be worried about this exceedingly odd turn of events. The building was so beautiful, and the sunlight so calming, that his mood was buoyed despite the illogical situation he found himself in. He had forgotten what it was like to be filled with true, worry-free relaxation.
Seeing a pair of wooden doors that led outside, he stepped out into a grassy garden which had a long reflecting pool lined with more fruit trees. He plucked some olives from one of the trees and sat down on a bench to enjoy them, thinking that the sunlight warming his body was the most pleasant thing he had ever felt.
“Welcome, friend,” came a voice from behind him, and suddenly there was a tall, burly man sitting next to him.
P.J. had a lot of questions. “Where are my teammates?”
The man chuckled lightly. “Your teammates don’t get to come here. Only you do, P.J.”
P.J. thought that he had many teammates who deserved to experience this wonderful place. “Why?”
“Because this is The Countryside Villa of the Forty Point Scorers,” answered the man.
Sitting silent for a while, P.J. processed this information. So he had been granted access to some exclusive club thanks to the 42 points he had just scored? But how on earth had the coaching staff consented to allow him to be whisked away to a Mediterranean villa when he was supposed to be practicing with the team? “Who are you, then?”
“My name is Linas Kleiza, and I am the Appointed Guardian of the Villa.”
P.J. didn’t recognize the name. He popped another olive into his mouth, enjoying the tart taste. “This is a dream, isn’t it?”
“No, P.J. The Villa is real. Realer than most of which you hold dear in the mortal realm.”
After this perplexing remark, Linas stood up. “Solitude is the main benefit of the Villa. In line with that ethos, I must depart now. Enjoy your stay, and please try not to trample the grass.”
Then, P.J. was alone again, knowing that he had more questions which needed to be answered, but feeling like the answers were unimportant. Linas was right. At that moment, his previous life had been washed away, to be replaced with a pervasive sense of peace that he hoped would last forever.