From the Top - Chapter 2

Sunday afternoon before practice I was back at the Blue Ridge for my usual training with Chef and our gig that night, although I had something else planned that Chef didn’t know about.

I made my way around back and sat down in one of the chairs to wait while Chef finished making sure everyone was doing what they should be. The back door was slightly open, as it was most days, to let a little fresh air in and a little heat from the kitchen out, and I could hear Chef raising his voice over the sounds of clanging dishes and the dishwashing machine that seemed to get louder every year. I couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, but Chef rarely raised his voice, either in the kitchen or out back training me. Even more bizarre was the second raised voice of someone talking back to him.

After a few minutes of that, Chef came ambling out, wiping his hands on the apron folded at his waist, the neck strap swaying as he took each step.

“Everything okay?” I asked as he closed the kitchen door behind him.

“Yeah. Tom Bowan’s son started today and we’re having some growing pains,” he said.

“Ahh,” I said, not knowing who Tom Bowan, or his son, was.

Nearly everyone who worked for Chef was someone who, at some point, had a problem and needed some help. Guys with criminal records, guys who couldn’t get a job, or, in my case, guys who kept getting in fights even though they didn’t want to. The Blue Ridge was a refuge for people who wanted to turn their lives around and just needed a step up to get there. Whoever Tom Bowan’s son was, Chef wouldn’t have brought him on if he didn’t have some small piece of potential Chef thought he could nurture.

“Ready to get started?”

“Actually, I have something I wanted to give you first,” I said, standing up and pulling a thick envelope from my back pocket.

“What’s this?”

“Part of what I owe you for all the money you fronted me over the last several months. The cash from the first settlement finally hit my account. It’s not all of it, so I still owe you, but hopefully, it’s a good first step to getting us even.”

He paused just as his hand closed around the envelope, looking from it back to me, but not taking it out of my hand.

“You haven’t even started booking gigs,” he said instead. “You don’t have to pay me back yet. You need to make sure you’ve got everything back to normal first.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. I couldn’t have made it without your help, and I’m not the only stray you’ve taken in. You didn’t give me the money, you loaned it. I’m just repaying the loan. If I thought this was going to keep me from getting back to playing shows, I’d have waited a while longer, but it’s not. I still have one more settlement check I’m waiting on, so I’m not going to be broke or anything.”

“Okay,” he said, finally taking the envelope out of my hand. “But if you do start running into problems and need some of it back, I want you to tell me. Okay?”

“Sure,” I said, although I planned on never asking him for money again.

Even with everything that happened, with Mom and Dad, with Mr. Campbell, with school, the guilt of taking Chef’s money had still weighed on me, and getting some of it paid back was like a weight being lifted from my shoulders.

“Now we should get started with your training before you have to go set up,” he said, sliding the money into his pocket.

“Yeah. I also meant to ask, now that things are getting back to normal, is there any word on when Willie might get back to playing the second set after ours? I know we took some of those over when Dwight was leading things, but I know Willie’s going to want to come back when he’s feeling better, and I don’t want him to think he can’t because we’re playing.”

“You haven’t heard?” Chef asked, a concerned look on his face.

“Heard what?” I asked.

“Willie’s been really sick for several months now.”

“What do you mean, really sick? The last time I talked to him, he said he was slowing down and wasn’t going to play as much or tour anymore, but he didn’t say anything about being sick.”

“He didn’t want to worry you with everything you had going on. After your parents, and the legal stuff … you had enough on your plate at the time. Besides, you know how Willie is. He’s always worried about upsetting anyone else, regardless of what’s happening to him.”

“Someone else should have told me,” I said. “Sick how? Is he getting better?”

Chef let out a heavy sigh and motioned for me to sit back down, pulling a chair over to face me.

“It started just after Christmas. He had this persistent cough and a lot of fatigue. It’s why he stopped playing and started talking about retiring. His nephew thought he was just overworking himself, still trying to get on stage two and three nights a week, but then the weight loss started,” he said, pausing to gather himself. “It’s lung cancer. Stage four.”

It hit me like a freight train. I knew he’d been backing away from music, but he’d never said anything about a really serious illness, let alone cancer.

“Is he … I mean, how’s he doing now?” I asked, blinking back sudden tears.

“He’s fighting, Charlie. Willie’s always been a fighter. But it’s tough. They tried some treatments right after he was diagnosed, but the cancer was already pretty advanced by that point. I think they’ve all but given up on curing it.”

I sat there stunned, trying to process everything. Willie, my friend and mentor, was dying, and I hadn’t even known he was sick. Sure, I’d had a lot of stuff of my own to deal with, but that was no excuse. Not for something like this. Willie was one of the first people I’d made friends with when I moved here. Hell, he’d accepted me even before Hanna did.

I literally had my entire music career, as burgeoning as it still was, thanks to him. He’d given me my first time on a stage. Taken me on my first tour. His friendship with Mr. French had turned into Mr. French giving me extra lessons on music, songwriting, and everything else about the business, and ultimately led to me meeting Rowan. All of it traced back to Willie.

And how did I repay him? By not even realizing he was fighting for his life. What kind of friend was I?

“I should have been there for him,” I said quietly. “I should have called or gone to visit or … something. Anything.”

Chef put his hand on my shoulder, “You can’t blame yourself, Charlie. You didn’t even know he was sick because he specifically asked us to not tell you. You’ve had a lot going on. Your parents, the legal issues, the stuff with the label. Willie didn’t want you to put your life on hold because of him. He cares about you. Hell, I think he considers you his real legacy. What he’s leaving behind to music once he’s gone. You should hear how he talks about you, Charlie. He’s really proud of you.”

I shook my head, “That doesn’t make it okay. Ever since I got that record deal, I basically walked away from him. Our lessons stopped. I never stayed for his shows after I got off stage. Hell, even after noticing he wasn’t sitting on the porch like he used to, I never even went by his place to check on him. I’ve been so focused on myself, even before Dad showed back up, let alone any of the stuff that happened after that. I’ve been selfish.”

“Pursuing your dreams doesn’t make you selfish,” Chef said gently. “Especially since you didn’t even know that he was sick. What matters is that you’re there for him going forward. You can’t change what has happened, and feeling sorry for yourself or guilty won’t change that. Now you know he’s sick, so what matters is what you do about it, right?”

“Would it be okay if we skipped training today?” I asked.

“Yeah. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I know how you feel about him, and I knew how you’d take this news. I think we all just wanted to keep from overloading you with more bad news, after everything that happened. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay. If he told you not to tell me, then you had to honor that, right? I’m just glad I know now.”

“Okay. Get going and tell him I said ‘hey,’” Chef said, getting up from his chair.

“I will,” I said.

Willie’s cabin was only a short walk from the Blue Ridge down a side road, close enough that Willie used to make the walk most days. It was an older building with peeling white paint, set against a thick stand of trees that would make it seem menacing if everyone didn’t know Willie lived there.

Willie had been playing at the Blue Ridge for more than a decade, and everyone in town loved him. So instead of scary, his cabin always felt warm and inviting to me. Or it used to. In spite of the midday summer sun, the cabin was cast in shadow from the trees it sat against, the curtains drawn closed, making it seem foreboding. Or maybe that was just my subconscious talking, knowing about Willie’s condition.

Keenan’s truck sat outside, so I knew someone was home. I knocked gently on the front door, which was opened by Keenan, Willie’s great-nephew, who’d occasionally helped Willie out, especially once Willie was too old to drive himself places. Tall and lanky, he was a slightly more wiry version of what I imagined Willie looked like when he was younger. Willie used to joke that Keenan got all the good genes in the family every time someone pointed out that they looked alike.

“Hey Charlie,” Keenan said, sounding drained and tired. “Chef texted me and told me you were coming up here.”

“It’s good to see you,” I replied, shifting awkwardly on my feet. “I just heard about Willie. I wanted to … you know, see him.”

“He’s sleeping right now,” Keenan said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I should have been here for him.”

Keenan gave me a sympathetic look and said, “It’s okay. Willie told Chef and a few others not to tell you. He knew you were dealing with a lot after … well, everything with your parents. He was so happy when he heard that you’d managed to beat the charges. We both were. He was really worried about you. I’m so sorry about your parents.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling even more guilty that this had somehow turned around into being about me. “So, how’s he doing?”

“It’s advancing faster than we thought,” he said, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck. “He had the cough and was tired all the time, but he kept playing it off, saying it was just the years catching up to him. I didn’t even get him to see a doctor until February, and we didn’t get the tests back until mid-March. By then, it had started to spread pretty bad. They wanted to do chemo, but Willie said no. He didn’t want to go through all that. For the first month and a half, he seemed about the same, but a few weeks ago his health started really going downhill. His appetite’s gone, and it’s been hell trying to get him to eat, which is only making it worse.”

“Man,” I said, not sure of what else to say.

He’d had the cough the last time we talked, but it hadn’t seemed all that serious. The last time we talked, he’d dropped the news about his retiring, but I thought it had been just so he could enjoy some time not traveling and playing clubs, not something like this.

“The doctors think it’s from all those years smoking and working the clubs, back when you used to be able to smoke inside,” he added.

I remembered a little what that was like. Since I’d started playing, that didn’t happen, with pretty much everywhere outlawing indoor smoking, but when I used to travel with my father, when he still played clubs, it had still been allowed. I remembered how dense the smoke was, almost like walking around inside a cloud. How it made everything stink.

“What about the rest of your family? Has anyone else been down to see him? How are they taking it?”

Other than Keenan, Willie didn’t talk about his family much. I knew he had one brother, and that he’d never married himself, and I assumed his parents had already passed away, considering his age, but that was it. I didn’t know if Keenan had any brothers or sisters, or if there’d been any extended family. Cousins and the like.

“I’m just about it,” Keenan said. “My granddad, that was Willie’s brother, passed away about ten years ago. There were some others, but most of the ones he knew are gone already, and their kids never really had much contact with him. I’m basically the only family he has.”

“I’m glad you’re able to at least be here with him. It’s good that he has someone.”

He just nodded. We both stood there in silence for a moment, lost in our own thoughts, unsure of what to say next. Willie was the only thing we had in common, so there wasn’t much I could talk to him about. Having dealt with my own family, I knew how lonely it could be, losing someone, and I assumed it was the same when that person was lingering as well. He was out here, just him and Willie. Chef probably stopped by, but still, I didn’t want to just leave him.

The awkward moment was interrupted by a faint noise down the hallway. Keenan looked up and over his shoulder in the direction of Willie’s room.

“Sounds like he’s up,” Keenan said. “Why don’t you head on back? I know he’d want to see you. I’ve got some soup I can heat up, maybe you can help me convince him to eat something, keep his strength up.”

“I’ll try,” I said, stepping past Keenan and making my way to the back bedroom.

I slowly pushed open the door to Willie’s bedroom. With the curtains drawn, the room was fairly dark, but I could make out Willie propped up in bed, looking frail against the pillows. He was, indeed, awake. When he saw me, a smile spread across his wrinkled face.

“Charlie,” he said, his voice gravelly but cheerful. “Come in, come in.”

Willie shifted, trying to push himself higher on the pillows.

“Here, let me help,” I said, rushing over and gently grasping his thin arm.

“These old bones just ain’t what they used to be.”

Pulling over a chair and sitting down next to him, I said, “I’m so sorry I didn’t come by sooner.”

Willie waved a hand and said, “Nonsense. You had enough goin’ on.”

“You shouldn’t have kept this from me. You should have told me.”

“I wasn’t going to add to the load you already had. I know how you feel like you need to take on everyone else’s responsibilities, and I wasn’t gonna give you mine. Besides, that’s one of the benefits of bein’ old. You can do what you damn well please.”

“I’m just so sorry this is happening to you.”

Willie laughed, which turned into a wheeze.

When he finally regained his breath, he said, “Son, I’ve had me seventy-three good years on this earth. I’ve played with some of the greats and watched them head up to their great reward while I stayed down here. I’ve had good friends and known some great women. I ain’t got no regrets for how I’ve lived this life. When the lord calls, you gotta answer.”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice catching a little bit.

“None of that, now. I’ve made peace with my fate. I don’t want people feelin’ sorry for me. I want them to celebrate the life I had, not feel bad that I ain’t here no more. That goes for you too.”

“I’ll try,” I said. “I’ll just miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said, putting his hand over mine and giving it a weak squeeze. “I’m happy I got enough time to meet you and see you grow into the man you are. It’s only been a couple of years, but you’ve really come into your own, and when I go I can have pride that I played some small part in that.”

“I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”

“Nonsense. You were always going to be great. You’ve got it inside you, deep in your bones. All I did was help you find your way a little faster is all. We’ll always have that. That’s the beauty, though. I’ve left a little piece of myself behind. Every time you play, I’ll get to be remembered just a little longer.”

He started coughing again, squeezing my hand for support. I wasn’t sure what I should do and was about to run and get Keenan when the cough finally died down and he laid back against the pillows, taking a ragged breath.

“I should let you get some sleep,” I said. “Would it be okay for me to come back and see you?”

“I’d love that.”

“Then I’ll come by as often as I can. Every day, if possible.”

“I’d like that,” Willie said softly, his eyes already starting to drift closed.

Thinking he was falling asleep, I started to pull my hand back and stand when his grip tightened slightly.

“Before you go, how about you play me something,” he said, opening his eyes again, nodding toward his guitar, leaning in the corner.

“On one condition. Keenan said you haven’t been eating. He has some soup for you. How about I play while you eat something? Deal?”

“I see he’s got you fightin’ his battles now,” Willie said with a weak laugh. “Fine. Fine. I’ll eat.”

“Good,” I said, getting up and walking to the door, sticking my head out. “Keenan, he said he’d eat some soup. Actually, he complained you sent me in to do your dirty work, but he agreed to eat all the same.”

I could hear another laughing wheeze from Willie at that as I reached over and picked up his guitar. It was heartening to see he hadn’t lost his sense of humor.

“How about some Duke Johnson?” I suggested, sitting back in the chair, with the guitar balanced across my legs.

Duke Johnson was an old-school blues singer whom Willie played with back in the day, and his was one of the first songs I’d played with Willie when he’d first invited me on stage to back him up on guitar.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he said, giving me a weak smile.