Travis Starnes
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From the Top - Chapter 19
🕑 Added 2023-12-04 14:00:06 +0000 UTCThe drive home after my audition was pure bliss. I had the windows down and the music cranked up, singing along at the top of my lungs. I still couldn’t believe how well it had gone, better than even my wildest dreams.
After I’d gotten off the stage, the producers had pulled me aside and walked me through what was going to happen next. There were more waivers, agreements, and NDAs I needed to sign before I could go on to the next step. I think I surprised them when I said I needed to get my manager and lawyer on a video chat, but they let me do it. I would have thought they would have dealt with this before, since they had contestants who’d previously had record deals, but maybe people were just so excited that they signed whatever was put in front of them.
Thankfully, the contract was pretty simple and mostly allowed them to rebroadcast anything done on camera. There were a few rights problems that Mr. Eaves flagged, making sure they couldn’t reuse any of my own original music without permission outside of replaying the actual video, but that got sorted pretty quickly.
If anything, the producers seemed as excited for me to be on the show as I was to be on it, and they kept saying yes to whatever Warren and Mr. Eaves asked for. Admittedly, they didn’t ask for anything extreme, but I took it as a sign of how well things were going to go.
The whole process gave me that same rush of excitement I felt when I first signed with MAC. After everything that had happened, it had been a long time since I felt this kind of joy about my music career. Once everything got signed, they told me they would send out details of the next phase of the show and tickets to California as we got closer to the date.
To say I was in a good mood would be an understatement. I was singing along with the radio and replaying the audition over and over in my head, trying to relive the moment, when my phone rang. My joy almost instantly vanished when I looked at the caller ID. It was Keenan, and his calls lately had only been bad news about Willie.
“Hey, Keenan,” I said, answering, trying to cling to a fragile hope that this was good news and Willie was being released from hospice.
“Hey, Charlie,” Keenan said, sounding exhausted. “The hospice finally approved non-family visitors for Willie. You need to get here as soon as you can. It doesn’t look like he has much time left.”
I felt my stomach drop. Even with my hopes that he’d make some kind of miraculous recovery, I’d known this day was coming. And I still wasn’t ready for it.
“How much time do I have? I’m driving back from Atlanta now; how late can I visit tonight?” I asked.
“Probably another hour or so,” Keenan replied. “I know it’s a long drive, but you should hurry. Willie’s awake right now and he’s been asking for you.”
I glanced at the GPS on my phone, I was just about an hour and a half away from Asheville.
“I’ll be there as fast as I can,” I promised.
“He doesn’t have long, Charlie and he wants to see you one more time.”
“I’ll hurry, I promise,” I said, and hung up.
I felt a knot in my stomach. My euphoric mood from earlier was gone, and all I could think of was what would happen if Willie passed and I didn’t get to see him. I don’t think I could live with that.
I pressed down on the gas pedal, increasing my speed and hoping a cop didn’t see me. It was worth a ticket though, if it got me to him in time.
An hour and seven minutes later I pulled into the hospice parking lot, barely taking the time to put the car in park before I jumped out of the car. It had rained recently, and my sneakers skidded on the smooth concrete as I sprinted for the doors, almost sending me tumbling into the door before I righted myself.
The woman inside was staring at me as I came in, probably having seen me just about bust my ass outside the door.
“I’m here to see Willie Johnson,” I said breathlessly.
Her inquisitive look turned sad, “Of course. Let me page his nurse to come get you.”
She picked up the phone receiver and I drummed my fingers impatiently on the countertop while I waited. I expected a nurse to come out, instead Keenan pushed through a set of doors by the reception desk.
“Hey, Charlie,” he said, reaching out and shaking my hand. “I’m glad you came. Come on.”
I followed him through the door and into a hallway that kind of looked like a hospital but was warmer and less impersonally sterile.
“You should be prepared for what he looks like. He’s lost weight, and ... well, he’s weak.”
“Is he really that close?” I asked.
“I’m afraid so. He’s been holding on, but just barely. He signed a DNR, which means when his body does give out he’s asked the doctors to not try and resuscitate him.”
“Ohh,” I said. “I ... I didn’t realize that.”
“He’s made his peace, and he’s ready to move on. The cancer has spread throughout his body. It’s all they can do to keep his pain under control. It’s taking a lot for him to keep fighting, and I think he’s just tired. ”
“Yeah,” I said.
Keenan stopped in front of a door, his hand pausing on the door. Seeing his hesitancy, even though he’d been with Willie the whole time, made me brace myself. If he was upset about what Willie looked like after seeing him every day, then I knew it was going to be bad.
The first thing I noticed was the steady beeping of monitors. Then I saw Willie. He looked small and frail against the hospital bed, his body wasted away to practically nothing. His skin seemed to hang off his bones. Even with the machines, that seemed to indicate he was still alive, I thought for a moment I might be too late. Then he opened his eyes, and gave me a weak smile.
“Charlie,” he rasped, lifting one skeletal hand to wave me over. “You made it.”
“Of course I made it,” I said, dragging a chair over next to him. “Wild horses couldn’t have kept me away.”
“How did it go?” he asked.
It was just like Willie, even now, to ask about me first.
“It went really well,” I said, taking his frail hand in mine. “I made it through to the next round. You would have loved it.”
“I’m so proud of you, boy,” he said, a weak smile creeping onto his face. “You’re a good kid, Charlie, and you’re going to go far with your music.”
“I owe it all to you,” I said.
He opened his mouth, coughed twice, and said, “Nonsense. You’ve always had it in you. I just nudged you along a bit.”
His eyes closed for a moment and I just sat there, holding his hand until he opened his eyes again. Keenan was right. I could see that he was starting to let go, like he’d been kept alive by sheer willpower, and he decided he didn’t want to keep it up anymore.
When he opened his eyes again, I said, “Willie ... you know I love you, right? I’ll never forget everything you’ve done for me.”
I knew if I didn’t say it, I wouldn’t have another chance, and I wanted him to know how much he meant to me, before he went. I felt a tear slide down my cheek.
“None of that now,” he admonished gently. “It’s my time, Charlie. The good Lord is calling me home. No need for sadness. I’ve had a good long run, and I wouldn’t trade ‘em for nothing.”
I sniffed and nodded, not trusting my voice enough to respond.
“When I’m gone, I don’t want you mopin’ around. I want you celebratin’ the time we’ve shared. Focus on the good memories we made. Keep that music alive inside you, you hear?”
Willie sighed and sank back into his pillow, “And I love you, too. I never got around to havin’ children, so I think the good Lord sent me you so that I would know what it might be like for these last years. And I couldn’t have asked for a better choice. You’ve been good to me, comin’ to see me every day. I can’t tell you how much that’s meant to an old man like me.”
I felt another tear slip down my cheek. I didn’t bother to wipe it away.
“Could you do me one last thing?” he asked, his voice so weak I had to strain to hear it.
“Anything.”
“Play me something, would ya? How ‘bout that Slim Anders tune, the one I taught you early on?”
It was one of the first songs I’d played with him, when he’d gotten me up on stage with his band. Slim had been a legendary blues musician in the forties and fifties, and Willie had met him when he was a young kid. I was pretty sure that was his favorite story, since he’d told it to me a dozen times over the last few years. Keenan moved behind me and I turned as he pulled Willie’s guitar out from the corner of the room.
I’m sure Willie didn’t have the strength to play, not in here, but he never went anywhere without his guitar, so it was only natural he’d have it to the end. I took it from Keenan and settled it on my knee. Although the song was usually a loud, bellowing kind of blues, full of rasp and fast picking; it didn’t feel right to play it like that.
I don’t even think I did it consciously, but I slowed it way down, and stripped it to its bare essentials. Willie smiled, the shine coming back into his eyes, lighting up the room as I started singing. After a moment, in a fragile, wavering voice, he joined in, singing along. About halfway through, he stopped, his breathing becoming labored, but he waved with his hand that he wanted me to keep playing.
I looked to Keenan, who had tears in his eyes, but nodded that I should keep going. My voice was shaky and I was barely holding it together, but I kept going. Willie smiled softly, his eyes drifting closed as he lost himself in the music. His frail body seemed to relax into the bed. By the final notes of the song, Willie’s chest was barely rising and falling with each labored breath.
As I strummed the last chord, his head sagged into the pillows. The monitors let out one long, steady beep and just like that, Willie was gone.
I set the guitar down and started to cry.
I didn’t stay. I probably should have. Keenan had just lost his great uncle, after all, and had his own grieving to do; but I was a mess. It was probably better for everyone that I wasn’t there. I also didn’t think I could stand watching them pull the tubes and stuff out of his body.
I was in a daze as I walked out of the facility, barely aware of my surroundings and overwhelmed by them at the same time. The fluorescent lights in the hallway felt as bright as the sun. Outside it felt too humid and sticky, the birds too loud. I was pretty sure this was the start of a panic attack, or at least it was how Kat had always described them to me.
I hadn’t felt this way when Mom died. Then, I’d been numb, almost oblivious to what was happening in the world. Now it felt like my chest was going to collapse in on itself. It was overwhelming and all consuming, and it gave me a new appreciation for Kat. How she managed to deal with this, I’d never know. It also gave new meaning to why she went as far as she did, allowed the things she did, in order to make the panic attacks stop. The more I thought about the fact that I was having a panic attack, the more I cried and the harder it was to breathe. I collapsed against my car, taking ragged breaths. When I finally got into my car, I just sat there, not starting it, tears and snot running down my face as I cried.
I don’t know how long I sat there, unable to move. After what could have been minutes or hours, I managed to gain some control over myself emotions. My hands shook as I fumbled for my phone in my pocket.
Kat picked up on the second ring. “Hey, you,” she said, her voice instantly making me feel a little calmer. “Back home already?”
“He’s gone,” I choked out.
“What?” she asked, confused.
“Willie. He’s gone.”
“Ohh, god. Ohh, Charlie. I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice soft and empathetic.
“Keenan called when I was on my way back,” I said. “I hurried and got here as fast as I could. He was still alive. He asked for one last song and I played it and then he …”
My voice trailed off as another racking sob hit me. She was quiet for a moment, and I heard her sniff. She didn’t know Willie as well as Hanna or I did, but she’d spent time with him and liked him. She’d even visited him on her own, before she went off to college.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again softly, after a minute. “But that must have meant so much to him, being able to hear you sing one last time.”
“He was a great man,” Kat continued softly. “I know he really loved you.”
Her words made my chest constrict even more. I let out another choking sob, dropping my head against the steering wheel.
“I know it hurts,” she said gently. “It’s okay to grieve for him.”
“I know, but I’m crying harder for him than I did for my own mom,” I managed to get out between sobs. “What kind of person does that make me?”
“Oh, Charlie. It doesn’t make you a bad person at all,” Kat said gently. “You and your mom had a really complicated relationship, especially after your father came back. With Willie, things were simpler. It’s okay to feel differently about losing each of them.”
I wiped at my eyes, knowing she was right but still feeling guilty.
“I know. It’s just...she was my mom. I should have been more upset when she died.”
I wasn’t even sure what I was upset about now. Was I upset that Willie was gone? Was I upset I was crying harder for Willie than I did for her, or was I just upset that I didn’t cry for her and was finally coming to terms with it? My brain felt all mixed up.
“You’d been through so much when she died and with everything that happened to you afterwards,” Kat said. “No one expected you to react normally. And you did grieve for her, in your own way. With Willie, you saw it coming and you got to properly say goodbye. That’s really meaningful.”
“Yeah,” I said, the grip on my chest starting to lighten up a little.
“So don’t feel bad about grieving for him. He was special to you. And it’s better to let it out than bottle it up.”
“I’m really going to miss him,” I said quietly.
“I know. I will, too.” Kat’s voice held a touch of sadness. “But we haven’t lost him completely. He’ll live on through you, and through your music. Whenever you’re up on stage, it’s like a piece of him will be up there with you. Or at least, that’s how I think it is.”
“Yeah,” I said again, softly, and calmer than before.
I wiped at my eyes again, tears were still leaking out, but the uncontrollable sobs seemed to have passed. Just talking about him out loud made me feel a little better.
“Thanks, Kat,” I added after a moment. “Talking to you really helped. I think I just needed to get it out, you know?”
“Of course, Charlie. I’m always here if you need someone to talk to.”
I let out a long breath, feeling my body start to relax, and said, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she replied without hesitation. “Now promise you’ll take care of yourself, give yourself some time to grieve. I know you have to play tonight, but maybe you can honor Willie by dedicating tonight’s show to him. There’s a lot of people in that town that love him, so it will mean a lot to them, too.”
“That’s a good idea, I’ll do that,” I said. “Thanks again, Kat.”
“With the number of times you’ve had to talk me down, I think I still owe you. Have a good show tonight and call me when you get home.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said.
Comments
Ronnie Haas
A man can not ask for a better way to go meet our maker than the one you framed for Willy in this story. You really built a lot of emotion in this chapter. You made a 73 year old vet shed a tear or two. Thank you!!!!
Darryl Graney
From the penthouse to the shithouse in one very good and emotional chapter. Vale Willie, a great character. Keep this thing going Travis, I love the series.
Brett Grayson
Great chapter, from the heights of redemptive victory to the low of the loss of a loved one!
John pritchett
WOW, such emotion in that quiet scene, Great chapter!
Phil
Great scene and a lovely ending for Willie
