The Weight of Goodbye: Johnny’s Regretful Return Home

Chapter 17

Having made the painful choice to journey back to Texas, Johnny found himself in a heart-wrenching struggle, surrendering the opportunities that lay before him—holdings that promised riches within a decade. With a heavy heart and resolute spirit, he cast aside dreams of wealth, fully aware that the path behind him had irrevocably vanished, leaving only the words of “what have been.”

The lots on the edge of downtown Honolulu vanished in a few days to a dodgy speculator, who offered a fire sale price. The used car lot was sold to a former commanding officer with a firm handshake and a promise that money would follow when the last existing vehicles found new homes. Now, he was left with nothing but the relic of a pawn shop fiddle, a token of better days. He returned the instrument to the old Korean man, who was less than friendly, still smarting from the failed romance between his granddaughter and Johnny. He offered a few dollars, which was silently rebuked. Confident that his father had cared for his prized violin, it would be waiting for the bow’s stroke across the strings.

Johnny made his rounds to bid farewell. The Royal Hawaiian staff had treated him kindly despite his being a Haole. The folks at the Pearl City News and the companions of his musical venture each received a heartfelt goodbye.

On his last night in paradise, Johnny dined alone. Over the years, The Brass Monkey Tavern and its delicious seafood had comforted him. Pika, the native Hawaiian bartender, produced a special bottle from the top shelf. Tonight, there would be no cheap hooch for his valued Haole friend.

The bitterness of his embattled relationship with his mother touched every part of his soul. He knew full well that forgiveness, if it ever came, would be a long, winding road marred by the shadows of contrived intent. Knowing that his father was faltering added to his haste in his departure.

The troop ship to California was packed with weary yet hopeful servicemen returning from their duties. A loud hum of excitement hung thick in the air. For many, it was a moment to rekindle the flame of old lives or to carve out new paths. Yet Johnny was lost to his sadness and felt no thrill. His thoughts drifted to Blind Jelly Roll, Sister Aimee, and Le Petite Fromage, now back in Chigger Bayou. Their presence in his life had brought him great joy. He felt obliged to give them one final visit, knowing it would be the last in his lifetime.

Blind Jelly Roll, aware that his days were numbered, was grateful for the visit. His humor was intact, and he asked Johnny if he would like to ride in his new sedan, touting that his driving skills had improved since their last visit. Pancho Villa, the tiny demon dog, had only taken a soft nip on Johnny’s hand, but his lack of front teeth made the nip more of a gumming affair. Sister Aimee, angelic as ever, had transformed into a maternal figure for Jelly and promised Johnny that the old bluesman would find a nurturing and loving home until his final hour. Even that cantankerous dog would be cared for. Johnny saw something in her eyes; the looks she cast on the old man were more than motherly; he detected an inner fire that fueled her commitment. Farewells were exchanged. There were strong hugs, a few tears, and some laughs. The final, out-the-door goodbye was punctuated by promises to write.

That evening, Johnny boarded the Super Chief bound for Chicago, with a stop in Fort Worth. The journey would take three days and arrive in the morning light. He kept his arrival a secret from his family, anticipating the thrill of surprise. He sat cradling a cup of coffee on a wooden bench in the train station. He had gotten it from the diner. The lady behind the counter, dressed in a waitress uniform, reminded him of his sister. He missed Norma and was troubled by her not writing in almost two years. He knew something was wrong and would make it all right today. The night stretched long. He had come to find peace in books. He thought of Thomas Wolfe’s words, “You can’t go home again.” But could he? Would he be met by a marble angel on the porch or find only a locked door at the end of his journey?