True To Form

I never thought that I would be back in this town. But here I am, driving down the main street of Billings, Georgia, heading to the same bar we snuck into in high school. I could close my eyes and not miss one turn or stop light. That is how much this town has not changed. The same people are walking the same streets, working the same jobs, and discussing the same things.

Don't get me wrong, it’s not all bad. Billings is a small town, but lakes and forests surround it. If you are the outdoor type, this place has plenty to offer. Billings is also well-placed geographically. It is located on GA Highway 341, which puts Billings roughly the same distance from Savannah, Georgia, and the Florida state line.  In most respects, Billings is a typical small farm town. You know, the kind of place you would see in a Hallmark movie or Norman Rockwell painting. 

The best feature about Billings is the people, most of them anyway. I will say more on that later. Growing up here, I made friends, most of whom I still talk to to this day. We went to the same schools from kindergarten to graduation, and I was happy to have had such a close-knit group of friends. Of those who went to college, most stayed close to home. I was one of the few who chose to leave the south entirely. 

I went to the University of Maryland and got a degree in information technology; that education and the experience after it brought me back to my hometown. 

Brian Garner contacted me about helping to update Billing’s computer network. Brian is a city council member and has been for a few years. He asked me to help ‘bring our computer systems out of the 1980’s’. Yes, that is a direct quote. 

We worked out a deal, and I flew into Savannah and then drove the one-hundred-plus miles to Billings. That was a week ago. I have been working long hours, and had little chance to socialize with anyone. Today would be the first time I reconnected with people in a social setting. Taking a deep breath after I parked the rental SUV, I mentally prepared myself for the trip back in time. 

Like the rest of Billings, the Nightcap Bar and Grill had not changed much. The bar had been refinished and the tile floor replaced, but other than that, the ‘Cap, as we called it, was still the same dive I snuck beer out of as a high schooler. Glen Vickers waved to me as I walked in.

“Hey, Calvin. Long time no see,” he said, sticking his hand out. 

“Too long,” I replied. “How have you been?”

Glen handed me a bottle of Killians.

I looked at the beer, astonished that he remembered.

Glen smiled and said, “I’ve been doing alright. I’m going to be retiring in a year or two.”

I was stunned, although I shouldn't have been. Glen had been in his early fifties when I left town. He had opened the bar at least ten years before that. 

I lifted my bottle to him.

“This place won't be the same without you, Glen.”

Glen smiled and said, “Oh, I will still be in here; I just won't be working.”

I laughed and said, “That’s always the goal, right?”

“Damn straight.”

Glen pointed to a group of people near the pool tables in the back of the room. 

“I think they are waiting for you.”

I followed his finger and nodded.

“Got to make the rounds. I will see you later.”

I spoke to people I had not seen in years as I approached the group. 

Stacy Anderson, the most attractive girl in high school, sat at a booth with a few girlfriends, some of whom I knew. Dr. Paul King, one of the nicest guys you would ever meet, sat at the bar talking to Brenda Franklin, the other bartender. Paul is a pediatrician and runs his own practice. I always felt a little sorry for Paul. He is great, but I have not seen him date a woman for more than a few months. The prevailing opinion both in high school and after was that Paul was gay, but I never believed it. Something like that would not stay hidden for long in a town as small as Billings. 

I finally reached the group and accepted many handshakes, back-slapping hugs, and a few kisses on the cheek. The conversation wandered from what everyone was doing, to what was happening inside and outside of Billings and, inevitably, to memories from high school. As much as I didn’t want to be here, talking and laughing with the people I had known all my life felt really good. I don't know how long we talked, but I noticed two things simultaneously at some point. The first was that my beer was empty, and the second was my bladder was full. I excused myself and went to the men’s room. 

After answering nature’s call, I grabbed another beer. As I turned from the bar, the front door opened. I felt a thrill run up my spine as a woman with long black hair entered. As cliche as this will sound, we locked eyes, and time seemed to slow. The sounds of the bar fell away, and only the two of us existed for that moment. Rhonda Clark, my last high school girlfriend, and I came to recognize later, the first person I truly loved. I don't know who moved first, but we met near the middle of the bar and hugged one another like we were afraid of letting go. When we finally parted, everyone was looking at us. 

Rhonda glanced around and said, “Let’s find a seat.”

I nodded and asked, “Do you want a drink?”

She walked up to the bar and grabbed a tall glass of what looked like vodka with just enough cranberry juice for color. 

Rhonda smiled and said, “Brenda knows my usual.”

We walked past our friends and onto the back deck to a table on the corner near the railing.

We sat down, and I looked at her, really looked at her.

I knew at once something was wrong.

Rhonda had always been a confident woman. Her green eyes seemed to be alight with determination. Those eyes seemed duller now, almost sad.

“While it’s great to see you, there is something going on. What’s up?”

Rhonda took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh.

“Nothing is wrong,” she said, smiling. “I just don't want to share you right now.”

I returned her smile and said, “You look great.”

Rhonda took my hand and said, “You don't have to butter me up. I know I look old.”

I laughed, then replied, “You are aging like a fine wine. I mean that.”

Rhonda blushed and said, “Thank you, Calvin. So what have you been up to?”

I repeated the story I told the group, and she smiled again by the end.

“So you have come back home like a white knight to save our town from dial-up internet,” she asked.

I shook my head as I laughed. 

“Yes, that is exactly why I’m here.”

I patted her hand.

“Enough about me, what about you?”

Rhonda’s smile slowly died.

“There is not much to tell. I went to college in Atlanta and got a degree in business management. I worked in Atlanta for a few years, then came back here.”

Rhonda took a few swallows of her drink.

“After returning to Billings, I married, had two kids, then got divorced.”

I blinked. That was the most condensed life story I had ever heard. 

“Okay,” I said. “Could I get a few details, like who you married? I know this is a small town, but I don't want to name every guy in it until I guess correctly.” 

Rhonda smiled, and the shadow lifted from her face.

“I married Alex Whitman.”

My jaw dropped.

Rhonda brushed her hair back and said, “I know, I know, Alex is the last guy you see me marrying.”

I closed my mouth. 

Remember what I said about most people in Billings being ok? Well, here is the reason for the caveat. Alex Whitman is a pretentious, spoiled man-child.

“Alex Whitman. How did that come about,” I asked. 

Rhonda shook her head.

“I was stupid. Alex and I hooked up one night, and I got pregnant. His father insisted that we get married. We were married for twelve years. He cheated, and we got divorced.”

I took a swig of my beer and said, “That sounds like Alex.”

Rhonda leaned back in her chair.

“Mr. Whitman, Alex’s father, hit the roof when he found out. He really wanted us to do the ‘right’ thing and make it work. Alex hated being with me and did not try to hide it. Our marriage was doomed from the start, and we both knew it.”

I shook my head. 

“I am so sorry. You deserved so much better than that.”

Rhonda looked me in the eye and said, “I had better, but I didn't appreciate it.”

I smiled and said, “We did have some good times.”

Rhonda leaned forward, her green eyes sparkling.

“We still can. How long are you in town for?”

Before I could answer, the back door opened, and Paul stepped outside. 

“I hate to interrupt, but Alex is here.”

Rhonda cursed.

“I guess we shouldn’t be surprised.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Alex has a talent for ruining a good time.”

Rhonda stood and said, “We might as well get this over with.”

I got to my feet, and Paul held the door open as we walked back inside.

Alex Whitman stood at the bar as he talked to Brenda. 

Alex was your typical pretty boy. He is tall, has shaggy blond hair, and keeps himself in decent shape. Women were naturally drawn to Alex, at least until they got to know him a little bit. Rhonda and I rejoined the group, whose members were a little wary now that Alex had arrived.

“You see who’s here,” Stacy asked.

I nodded.

“Yeah, Paul warned us.”

I was content not to discuss Alex again, but the man himself made that impossible as he walked over to us.

He stood a few feet away and studied the faces in the group. He then focused on me. His dark blue eyes narrowed, and he forced a smile.

“Well,” he finally said. “I see the rumors are true. Calvin Harris, Billings’ favorite son, has returned to grace us with his presence.”

There was a point in my life when those words would have immediately started an argument that would have turned into a brawl. And from the look on Alex’s face, that is exactly what he expected to happen. I had no intention of rising to his bait.

I saw Alex for what he was: a big fish in a small pond.

“How have you been, Alex,” I asked as I stuck out my hand.

My gesture took him aback. He just stared at my hand for a second or two before he shook it.

“I am not sure if I told you,” I continued, “but you have my sincere condolences. Your father was a good man, and I liked and respected him immensely.”

Alex blinked in surprise.

“I- thank you. You did send me a message, but thanks again.”

I released his hand, but I knew better than to let my guard down despite putting Alex off balance. My caution was rewarded as he looked at Rhonda and smiled cruelly. 

“Hey, Rhonda. I see it did not take you long to spark up your old flame.”

Rhonda tossed her hair over her shoulder and replied, “Isn't that what you are now; an old flame? But the difference is that there were sparks between me and Calvin; we were white hot.”

She looked Alex up and down.

“You were lucky to get me to room temperature.”  

The bar had been nearly silent until that point. Then, the patrons exploded with laughter. 

Alex’s face reddened, and he trembled with anger.

He slammed his beer on the bar and yelled, “Calvin is more than welcome to my sloppy seconds.”

Now I was mad. I wasn't going to hit him yet. But I was going to state a few facts.

“You would know a lot about seconds, considering the entire time I lived here, you were always a distant second behind me, or anyone else for that matter. I left you in the dust whether it was sports, academics, or even working for your father.”

“You keep his name out of your mouth! My dad has nothing to do with this!”

People were holding him back, but I waved them away.

“Remember when we were working at the Grant’s old farmhouse? Your dad offered to pay us to help take it down. You were supposed to be the supervisor on that job, but you didn’t show up till ten when everyone else arrived at six-thirty. Your dad told you then that you are no better than anybody else. But you didn't listen, and here we are, almost twenty years later, and you still don't get it.”

“I will always be better than you, Calvin,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Is that so,” I asked. “Because I am in a much better position from where I stand. I have a great career, make pretty good money, and I have the respect of my peers. You are living in the past, profiting off your father’s legacy, and in the process, making yourself and everyone around you miserable.”

Alex looked around at the assembled crowd. He saw contempt, anger, and, worst of all, pity.

“Alex,” I said after a few moments, “very few people actually like you. Your father, Nicholas Whitman, was respected and even loved. You were barely tolerated, which was for your father's sake. With him gone, no one has to put up with you and your nonsense.”

Alex visibly deflated. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it, then turned and left.

I waited for a few seconds before I released the breath I was holding. I did not want that confrontation to occur, but I guess it was inevitable. 

Rhonda reached out and took my hand.

“Thank you,” she said.

I smiled.

“I didn't do anything except tell the truth.”

Rhonda pulled me over to the bar.

“Maybe that is what was needed,” she said. “This town has lived in a bubble for a long time. I’m glad you came back and poked a hole in it.”

I sighed and said, “That was not my intention. But if it helps, I’m glad.”

Rhonda and I talked for a long time. We spoke about the past and about a potential future. By the end of the night we shared a kiss at her car.

Yeah, its good to be home.