LITMIR.BIZ

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won’t be much of a band without you two,” Kyle lamented, sadly shaking his head as he packed up his drums.

      “Ditto that!” seconded Lenny. “I’ll probably be back playing elevator music for the tourists in hotel lounges pretty soon. I wish you the best, though. Maybe we can come out and play a gig with you two sometime.”

      “Yeah, that would be fun,” Julian agreed. “Probably the Western punk version by then!” he laughed as the nearby sky suddenly exploded with color. “Hey, can you guys take our stuff with you? Ry and I really want to catch up with our parents if we can find them. Probably won’t have this chance again for a good while.”

      “Sure man, go ahead. We’ll make sure your stuff gets home safe. Enjoy the fireworks,” Lenny grinned as the familiar sights and sounds of Independence Day filled the air over Charleston Harbor. “It’s almost like the Civil War all over again,” he laughed as the sky over Ft. Sumter was brilliantly illuminated with the sights and sounds of exploding fireworks.

      “At least no cannons this time!” Julian grinned. “Ok, see you guys!” he yelled over his shoulder as he caught up with Ryan and headed across the street toward a better vantage point on the seawall.

      “Hey, Jules!” Lenny yelled. “We may try to stop by your place in the morning to wish you goodbye, if that’s okay with you. What time are you all leaving?”

      “Around ten,” came a scarcely audible reply from the darkness.

      “Ok, tomorrow then, if we wake up in time!” Lenny grinned, searching for his keyboard cover. Looking toward the water, he marveled as the darkness yielded to a magnificent display of color and sound. “Independence is way better than Civil War, don’t ya think?” he asked, looking over at Kyle, who was scarcely visible behind a small mountain of drum cases.

      “Right on, brother,” Kyle concurred. “Let’s get this stuff packed up and in the van. I wanna enjoy the fireworks too!”

      “You got it!” Lenny agreed, as another cascade of brilliant colors filled the evening sky. “I just love the 4th of July,” he said, as he quickly went about his work and hoped they would finish before the show was over.

      The Next Morning

      It was almost 10:00 a.m. when Ryan pushed open the driveway gates at 40 Meeting Street and piloted his prize ’73 aqua-blue-and-white VW camper van slowly into the parking space in front of the piazza of the Russells’ landmark 1740s Charleston single house. Keith and Maggie were justifiably proud of their family treasure located on a prime parcel of real estate just blocks from the Battery Park, where the boys had serenaded Charleston with their final concert just the evening before.

      Ryan felt a curious mixture of fatigue from yesterday’s performance and excitement about the cross-country trip about to unfold as he climbed the piazza steps and rang the doorbell. Inside, he heard the shuffling of feet and the familiar bark of the family English bulldog, Beau, as he heralded Ryan’s arrival. Beau, namesake of Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard, the famous confederate general whose Charleston Civil War headquarters had been just across the street, was a great pal of his, and reserved a special bark for Ryan’s arrival, which he uncannily sensed prior to even seeing him. As Mrs. Russell opened the door, Beau scampered out to greet his friend of many years, and then sauntered over to relieve his bladder on one of Maggie’s prize azaleas—a ritual he regularly performed for the Russells’ guests.

      “Hey Beau!” shouted Ryan amid Maggie’s all-too-familiar scolding of the dog for his choice of restroom facilities.

      “Beau, stop that now, you hear?” Maggie shrieked, knowing all too well that her efforts to discourage the dog were totally in vain. He had his ways, not unlike most Charlestonians, where tradition filtered down even to the pets. Upon completing his mission, however, he gave Ryan a hearty welcome, even as he dashed past him into the house in search of his favorite toy, which he knew Ryan would toss high in the air for him to retrieve. It was such fun, and Ryan always enjoyed the ritual as well. Today, however, he seemed a bit more focused than usual as he yelled up the stairs for Julian.

      “Hey Jules, you ready? Come on man, we gotta go—I’d like to get to Asheville before dark!” Clearly, Ryan had an itinerary already in mind, which was par for the course in his case. Julian was used to it, however, and was most often content just to follow his friend’s adventuresome direction, mostly because it was so much easier than the inevitable challenge that would ensue if he didn’t.

      “Comin’, Ry!” he yelled as he folded the last of his shirts and placed it neatly in his meticulously organized suitcase. Structure and order had always been important for Julian, most likely due to the influence of his accountant father and very traditional Southern mother, who always liked things neat, tidy, and in their proper place.

      As Julian struggled to descend the stairs with his large overstuffed suitcase, he saw that Ryan was already engaged in one of his favorite pastimes—tormenting Beau. Finally reaching the foot of the stairs, he could see Ryan’s lanky frame facedown on the living room floor, growling ferociously at Beau from just about his level. Beau found this maneuver highly entertaining and reciprocated with several intimidating growls of his own before pouncing on Ryan and tugging at his shirt. This little ritual had been going on for years, and always culminated in Ryan feigning surrender and begging Beau for mercy. “Easy, Beau!” he shrieked as the dog growled and tugged at his shirt. “I give…you da dog, Beau, you da big dog!”

      Capitulation and praise were a combo that always worked with Beau, and he released his death grip on Ryan’s shirt, yet not without a triumphant “Don’t mess with Beau!” look as he climbed off of his victim. Maggie’s familiar warning, “Beau, you get off of Ryan right now, you hear?” drifted in from the dining room, where she had been packing up some snacks for the boys’ trip.

      “I declare, Ryan,” she admonished, “one day that dog is going to tear the shirt right off your back!”

      “Nah, Mrs. Russell, Beau and I are pals. I’m really his therapist, you know. I encourage him to release all his pent-up aggression—keeps him more mellow around you guys!” he laughed.

      “Well, I guess we’re in trouble now that you’re leaving,” Maggie sighed. “Sure you wouldn’t like to reconsider? You could come stay with us if you just need to get out of the house—I’m told boys your age just have to do that!”

      “Not quite far enough, Mrs. Russell,” Ryan grinned. “Besides, what about Jules here? He’s gotta at least go north of Broad for a few years, don’t you think?”

      “Ha ha! Trekking twenty-five hundred miles to the West Coast is hardly what I would call snobing,” Maggie responded, rolling her eyes while using the common Charlestonian colloquialism for venturing “slightly North of Broad.”

      “You’re right about that,” Ryan agreed. Then with a twinkle in his eye and a bit of his usual wit, he added, “I guess we’re actually ‘swobing’…going significantly west of Broad!”

      “We’re not going anywhere if you two don’t cut it out!” Julian interrupted from the entry hall at the foot of the stairs. “I thought you wanted to catch that group at the Orange Peel in Asheville tonight.”

      “Yeah, I know. Just had to say goodbye to Beau here,” he smiled, patting Beau on the head, “AND give your mom one last tease!”

      Tears began to well up in Maggie’s eyes as the truth of that statement swept over her. “I know you have to go,” she began, fighting them back and putting an arm around each boy, “really, I do. Ryan, you’ve been hanging around here since you were a baby, and Julian, you’re our only child. What else can I say? I knew this day had to come, but it still hurts horribly. I love you both so much, and I’m really gonna miss you!”

      A flood of emotion now flowed from all directions as the three embraced and savored for a moment that indescribable human bond that love miraculously weaves between one spirit and another. It was as if all eighteen years were suddenly condensed into a single second and the intensity of feeling was overwhelming. As Ryan wiped his

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