The Spectator

As he was driving into town, Richard felt a surge of emotions. He recognized many of the old familiar landmarks, as the old hangouts and buildings brought feelings of nostalgia. At the same time he notice how much things had changed and the town felt foreign and unknown. The thought of turning around entered his mind more than once, but he had chugged along, forcing himself to keep going. It had been a long time since he had been back, seventeen years to be exact.

Richard Holloway was now a much older man than when he had left; at 43 he was just coming to this conclusion. He should have done this long ago, but making things right had never been his strong point. Yet here he was, driving back to face the music. Funny, he thought, because seventeen years ago he and his band had left to follow the music.

He had left for his shot at the big time. The band had piled in the van and headed for Nashville, vowing never to return. Richard was 26 at the time and had been dating his girlfriend Jackie for a little over a year. They had lived in a duplex apartment behind the post office. Jackie had wanted to settle down; Richard wanted to chase his dream. The other guys in the band were a bit younger; they wanted to get out of the small town. With visions of stardom they hit the road, it was time to make a record.

He wasn’t proud of how he had left, but he had always lived impulsively. There was no goodbye, not even a note. Jackie was a good girl, she deserved better than him. This is what he had told himself over the years.

Once in Nashville the band had started recording. Their manager at the time was always full of promises, but had started making himself scarce. Midway into the recording sessions, the money ran out. The record label fell on tough times and all projects were put on the shelf. The dream was put on hold. The band started played gigs in the city while living in a house on the outskirts of town. There, they would write music, rehearse every night, and bide their time until they could once again start recording.

One night after some drinks, a small argument turned into a big fight. Accusations were thrown around and threats were made. At the time, no one knew it would be the end. They all went their separate ways to blow off some steam. At a bar, Richard ran into an old friend from home. They talked about old times, the old town, and the band. At some point Jackie’s name was brought up.

“So, have you guys talked?”

“No man, I don’t think she would ever want to talk to me again.”

“You’re kidding right? You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“She had a kid about a year ago, a boy. Word got around that she was pregnant right after you guys split. We thought that's why you left."

Richard, who had been quite drunk at the time, had trouble comprehending what he was hearing. A kid? My kid? Weeks passed and Richard thought about the conversation with the old acquaintance. He tried to convince himself that he was not the father, and he never let himself think about it for too long. That’s crazy, I can’t take care of a kid he thought, she's better off without me anyway.

The weeks became months and so on as the band members lost touch. Richard became a session artist, playing any gig he could find. He was talented and had no problems finding work. He found himself drinking more, a perk that came with the job. If he wasn’t in the studio, he was playing at a club, where the drinks were free and plentiful. The years past quickly and he found himself thinking more and more about visiting the old town.

He had heard about Ronald’s exceptional talent. The kid was the talk of the old town. He had asked about Jackie and heard she had gotten married a few years after he had left. Her husband was a basketball coach and had brought the old high school to national prominance. Richard heard stories of how the man had adopted her son and spent countless nights with him at the gym, He wondered what they had told Ronald about him, or if they had spoken of him at all.

Richard arrived at the school and sat in the car. He pulled out the bottle and poured one last drink. He looked around the lot, which was full of cars. Through glossy eyes he observed the proud parents with their children heading into the gymnasium. He glanced at the news trucks parked around on the side of the school, their satellites raised high in the air, ready to broadcast. With the last of the booze, he forced down the returning impulse to drive off, finishing the drink with one big gulp. Let’s go see the boy play. He said to himself.

He made his way to the gym. There was excitement in the air. North Cross vs. St. Mary’s High. Both teams were ranked in the top 10 nationally. There were many college scouts and even a few from the Nba in attendance. Richard finished his cigarette and opened the door to go in. The smell of popcorn was strong in the warm lobby of the school. Kids were in groups yelling and laughing, as they discussed the latest gossip making the rounds. He thought once again about the exit.

Instead he bought a ticket and entered the gym. Cheerleaders were taking the floor in an effort to inspire the crowd. The band played near the student section, there was frenzy in the air as the place was packed. Richard climbed the crowded bleachers and made his way to the upper level. He found a spot in the bleachers behind a rambunctious family. The game was about to start as the loud horn sounded and the referees came out with the basketball.

Searching the court, Richard spotted him immediately. Ronald Kemper, number 21. Richard did not know much about basketball, but anyone in attendance could tell that Ronald was a star, he was a natural leader. He carried himself with confidence as he went through his pregame rituals, smiling and laughing with his teammates. There were signs all over the gym with his number; a few people even wore his number 21 jersey. The kid owned the gym.

Richard had read in the local paper that Ronald had recently signed a letter of intent with the University of North Carolina. The paper suggested he would be an immediate starter on the team and if all went well, would find himself in the NBA a year later. His mother, Jackie Kemper was quoted in the paper as saying she wanted her son to get his degree before heading to the pros. The article also mentioned how Ronald volunteered at the local hospital once a week, reading to young children and signing pictures and basketballs for the others.

The game started and the tempo was electric. Both teams were loaded with athletes on their way to division I colleges. It was clear from the start however, that Ronald was on a different level. He could score anytime he got the ball, but didn't. He was a facilitator, making beautiful passes to teammates, finding them when they were open. Ronald ran the floor like a gazelle, and Richard watched as he rose to the occasion, making sure no one left the highly anticipated game disappointed.

At halftime, Richard watched as Ronald was presented an award as the school’s all-time leading scorer. He watched as Jackie, looking more like Ronald’s sister than mother, hugged and kissed her only son as he graciously accepted the award. He watched as Coach Kemper, Ronald’s stepfather, said a few words before bear hugging his star player. It was a beautiful moment for the Kemper family, the crowd stood and cheered as Richard made his way down the bleachers.

He walked through the lobby and out into the cold winter night. He didn't know what he had expected, but the night had been more than he could handle. He'd spent his life not thinking about his actions. The years had passed and every time he promised himself to visit Jackie, to meet his son. But as each year came and went, it became harder to do.

Richard got into his car and went to turn the key. His head fell as he started sobbing. He thought about the past 17 years and what he had missed. The first steps, the bike riding, the birthdays. He had chosen not to be around for these things, he had chosen himself instead. He had been a coward and hadn't wanted to face reality. He cried as he thought about Jackie, what it must have been like for her, the questions her young son must have asked. The tears streamed down his cheeks as he thought about the past and the mistakes he had made.

He thought about the drinking, the wasted years, the time spent looking for something to make him happy. Then he thought about his son, a complete stranger to him, and the bright future awaiting him. He looked up, shamefully, and stared silently at the gymnasium. Richard then started the car, wiped his eyes, and began to drive down the road, once again leaving his past, just as he had many years ago.

Copyright 2012 Pete Fanning