Home Town (Chasing the Dream pt 1)

Before he left, Brandon said one last time, “Please give it to me now. I swear I’ll pay you on Friday.”

Derek turned to open the door of his limo, and then looked back at Brandon standing with his dirty Converse hanging off the edge of the curb. Even the faded yellow reflective paint contrasted with Brandon’s appearance. His skin looked gray, and he was filthy. Derek could smell him from five feet away. “I’m sorry buddy, I can’t extend you anymore. I have people to answer to ya know? You owe too much. Besides, look at yourself. You've got a get clean.”

Brandon didn't say a word. He just looked down at his feet, and his shaggy hair fell over his eyes.

Derek climbed into the big car. He was actually a little embarrassed by its size and flashy appearance in his rural hometown. There was no one here to impress. When Derek looked back at Brandon, he had moved into the alley. His skinny frame was leaning hunched over against the red brick building that used to be the bowling alley. The windows that weren't boarded up were broken out. Derek’s heart fell as he watched Brandon pull the collar of his grease-stained Carhart up around his neck. He was surrounded by the shadows that appeared to consume him. The longer Derek stared, the harder it became to make out the form of his old friend. Finally, when he wasn't even sure Brandon was still standing there he told Eddie, his driver, to just go.

As they headed for the highway, Derek watched the familiar broken down old houses pass by. Most of them needed, at a minimum, new paint but some would be better off if they were just plowed over—foundations were crumbling and walls were sagging. This place was a hell hole; he had never thought that when he was growing up here.

The old brick plant was the last thing he saw before Eddie pulled onto the highway heading north. It had once employed nearly every man in town. Now it was closed for ever. The smoke stack that had always been the unwavering symbol of the humble community was now a pile of broken bricks like the broken dreams that came down with it. Most of the east side of the massive factory building was bulldozed in. Even the contractor that came to clean up the place had given up on it.

Derek turned his thoughts back to his friend and tried to remember him in better times. Like the town around him, the poor bastard was falling apart. Derek leaned back in the soft leather seats of the big Lincoln and shook his head. He hated thinking of the part he might have played in Brandon’s down fall. Derek untied his Italian leather loafers and kicked them off. It was sad, but he had to get it out of his head. He needed to get some sleep. It would be morning when they entered Chicago, and he would be expected to get to work as soon as he arrived.  So for now, he had to rest. He leaned his head back and stared at the last of the street lights as Eddie sped down the state highway toward Interstate 55.

Derek felt himself drifting off thinking of his high school football days with Brandon. On the lush green grass of that field, they were heroes. Friday nights when the stands were filled with family members and community supporters, the cheers were loud and they played hard. Brandon was an extremely talented quarterback; he had the arm of a pro. All Derek had to do was get to the right spot on the field, and Brandon would get the ball to him. They won all but one game their senior year. Derek racked his brain trying to remember when he and Brandon had switched roles. He used to follow Brandon’s every move trying so hard to be as good as his friend. Maybe it was after losing that game. Brandon had disappointed a lot of people that night, and even Derek had accused him of throwing the game. He wondered now if Brandon had already started down the wrong path back then.