For the last time, I write the words, “And so we go.” It’s my way of saying that I’m prepared for the next adventure. The next chapter. The next challenge. Whatever comes my way, I’m ready for it.
Because that truly is the way it was meant to be.
END OF JOURNAL #37
THE FINAL JOURNAL OF BOBBY PENDRAGON
The door opened slowly.
Standing there nervously leaning on the frame was Courtney Chetwynde. The glorious Courtney Chetwynde. The girl with the amazing gray eyes that Bobby had known since he was in kindergarten. She never failed to take his breath away.
“Yo,” Bobby said, trying to sound cool.
He immediately regretted it. Nobody said “Yo” unless they were trying to impersonate Sylvester Stallone, and nobody tried to impersonate Sylvester Stallone anymore. Nobody even remembered who he was.
“Yo?” Courtney snickered. “What does that mean?”
Courtney always kept Bobby on his toes. It was one of the things he liked about her. One of the many things.
“It means whatever you want it to mean. I’m always saying interesting things, you know that.”
“I do, unfortunately.”
Courtney stepped into the room. She looked at the overhead light and squinted. “So bright. What are you doing in here? Growing geraniums?”
She clicked off the overhead, dropping the room into shadows cast by the light from a single table lamp.
“What are you doing? Trying to get romantic on me?” “You wish.”
Bobby chuckled. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m not welcome?”
Bobby didn’t have to answer.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said.
Courtney was nervous. That wasn’t like her. Bobby sensed it instantly.
“What’s up?” he asked sincerely.
Courtney had trouble looking Bobby in the eye. She had something to say, that much was obvious. She wanted to choose the right words.
“It’s just that,” she began hesitantly, “I want to tell you something. I have the odd feeling that if I don’t do it now, I might not get another chance.”
“Oooh, sounds ominous,” Bobby joked. Courtney frowned.
Bobby backed off. “Sorry. What do you want to tell me?” Courtney took a deep breath and said, “I just wanted to say… I love you.”
Bobby waited for something more. It didn’t come.
“Yeah, and?” he asked.
“What? That’s not enough?” she shot back.
“Well, no, it’s fine. I just don’t understand why you had such trouble getting it out. It’s not like you haven’t told me once or twice… or a few thousand times.”
Courtney reached out and took Bobby’s hands. Bobby looked at them. As always, he was surprised by the sight. He was always surprised when he was reminded of things he had deliberately chosen to ignore. Seeing what his hands had become was always a shock.
They were once strong and large enough to palm a basketball. Now he had trouble steadying a cup of tea… when he was allowed to have tea. Which wasn’t often. His hands had grown smaller. Wine-colored spots appeared on the backs of them with growing regularity. His skin seemed gray, though he knew that wasn’t possible. He felt as if he needed some sun, but he didn’t spend much time out of doors anymore. It wasn’t allowed.
In his mind he was still a young, vital guy who strode boldly through life with confidence and good humor. The confidence and humor were still there, but he was no longer a young man. At least not physically. In his dreams he could still run with the joy of youth. He was never quite sure when he was dreaming anymore. Or sleeping, for that matter. The hours blended together. Time was irrelevant. In his mind he was another person. The person he used to be. Of course, that wasn’t really the case. He made a point of not looking into mirrors much. Or ever.
“What’s the trouble, Courtney?” Bobby asked softly.
Courtney held his hands lovingly. She tried not to cry. She didn’t want to have to let go to wipe away a tear.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed. “I’m being an old fool.”
“Well, there’s no fool like an old fool,” Bobby said, trying to be light.
Courtney smiled. Bobby loved it when she smiled. After so many years, her gray eyes were as bright and alive as always. She still kept her hair long, but it was now silver. A beautiful, sparkling silver. Though random streaks of brown remained. He used to tell her that her hair looked like delicious golden amber. Courtney never really knew what that meant, but it sounded good, so she didn’t ask. Though her skin had lost the vitality of youth, and she couldn’t walk more than a few yards without the help of a cane, to Bobby she was still the most beautiful girl in the world. For him it was the eyes. It was always the eyes.
“I don’t know why I’m being this way,” she said, laughing nervously. “I–I just felt as if I needed to see you. Now. Tonight.”
“You just saw me this afternoon,” Bobby replied, trying not to sound too sarcastic.
Courtney nodded. She sat down next to him on the hospital bed. The same hospital bed where he’d been resting for nearly two weeks. “I know.”
“You still have the hots for me, don’tcha?” Bobby winked. “Better be careful, the nurses might start thinking we’ve got a little something something going on.”
Courtney laughed. Bobby always made her laugh. Even when she was in despair. Especially when she was in despair.
Though he wouldn’t admit it, Bobby knew what she was feeling.
He felt it too.
He had been in and out of hospitals for the better part of a year with any number of problems. The tests were never ending. The results were never good. The list of troubles was too long to keep track of. Eventually he stopped listening to the doctors. In his mind, nothing they discovered mattered anymore. He knew what his trouble was. He was old. Really old. When his time came, he knew the doctors would write down some specific reason or failure or condition, but that would be a formality. You had to put something on the paper. It was the law. Under the “cause of death” section, no doctor ever wrote “old age.” But that’s what Bobby Pendragon was suffering from. Simple as that.
As he looked into Courtney’s eyes, he knew what was troubling her.
They weren’t going to have much more time together.
Though they were the same age, Courtney was in better health than Bobby. It was a fact she didn’t hesitate to point out to him every chance she got. Through the years they never stopped giving each other a hard time. Bobby wouldn’t have traded a second of it. He had no regrets. He’d lived a full life that he could look back on and be proud of. Looking back was something he did often. Especially as he got older.
Bobby had lots of promise when he was young, and he made good on it. When he graduated from high school he went to his father’s old college, Villanova University, on full scholarship. There, as in high school, he played basketball. Villanova was a big-time basketball school. As good as he was, Bobby wasn’t in that league. At least, not as a starter. But he played. He would come in off the bench when the Wildcats were in need of 3s. Bobby was smaller than the rest of the pro-bound players. He didn’t have their skill. But he could always hit the 3s. He even got the chance to play in front of a national audience when ‘Nova went to the NCAA tournament his senior year. It was one of the most memorable and rewarding experiences of his life.
Bobby had no inclination to play pro basketball. When he graduated, he didn’t have much inclination at all. Life was full of opportunities; he just wasn’t sure which one appealed to him. He floundered for a while, working odd jobs just to make money. His parents wanted him to go to law school. They thought he could change the world. He didn’t want to let them down, but his heart wasn’t in it. He knew that he had a calling; the trick was to discover it.