Wednesday, March 6, 1918

Tyson's Pub was an odd little bar in the Black District. Inside, dark cherry wood walls were covered by a huge collection of Civil War mementos, including framed letters from Union soldiers, several tattered Union Army hats, a Springfield 1886 Trapdoor Carbine rifle, and even a near-life size painting of Ulysses S. Grant. But as Henry realized a long time ago, under all these decorations, Tyson's was just another run-of-the-mill saloon.

Every afternoon, the pub started to fill with patrons around four o'clock after all the factory workers finished their day shifts. Henry often thought the bar was a fitting reflection of the town. Whatever mood radiated throughout the community seemed to be reflected here. People came here to celebrate their blessings in the good times and forget their troubles in the bad.

Henry usually didn't come here during the baseball season. He liked to keep his body healthy and free of harmful substances. He supposed it didn't matter now. There were no practices to worry about. No games to prepare for. And with Negro teams folding everywhere, there might not even be any baseball ... ever again in his life.

Henry had been fortunate to land a spot on the Rooks. Not very many people could say they got paid every day to do what they loved most in the world. Very few people found a living in their passion. He had had that. He had had that blessing.

And now it was gone.

Henry knew he should just feel lucky for the time he had been able to devote to a career he treasured. He should look back on those times with gratitude. Maybe eventually he would. But right now, he just couldn't. All he could do, all he wanted to do, was mourn.

Henry told himself that getting a job at Union Steel would be prudent, and he knew that he should do it quickly. Many of the other players had probably already applied for a job cleaning up molten slag, unloading truckload after truckload of pig iron, or scraping the bellies of smoldering hot furnaces. Although Union Steel was the largest employer in town, it had finite resources. If he didn't hurry, there wouldn't be any jobs left.

But Henry just couldn't strike up the motivation. After fifteen years of playing baseball since the age of five, how could he transition into a life of menial labor? How would he ever get used to the monotony of a meaningless dead-end job.

Henry took a deep gulp of his frothy beer. He knew that he would need to get this all figured out soon. At least, if he wanted to pay his rent and have some money for food later this month. But tonight, all he wanted to do was forget it all. He wanted to drink until his head was so full of juice that there was no room for thought or worry.

Henry wanted to forget the uncertainty of his future. He glanced around, observing the other patrons over the rim of his beer mug. Their expressions displayed a veil of defeat. Eyes tired and bruised from lack of sleep. Shoulders hunched. Hands weathered from years of manual labor, lifting their drinks like listless machines. Uncertainty was everywhere.

Henry had no doubt he and Willy were the only patrons with any vitality in their faces or vigor in their bodies. Would giving up a life of baseball be akin to giving up on life itself? Perhaps he'd end up working alongside Maurice at Union Steel. Their hands would become thick and leathery. Their lungs clouded by black fumes. And their bodies would become weak and tired as they plodded around the mill, reminiscing fondly about their baseball days.

Henry gulped down the final dregs of his beer, trying to push aside these nagging thoughts.

Willy didn't drink at all, season or not. He didn't believe in alcohol or approve the way it affected a man's behavior. He hadn't come to drink away his feelings, but rather to commiserate with Henry and to be around people who shared similar sorrows.

"Hey, Henry," Willy said. "You remember the time you hit that ball straight through Mrs. Porter's window. She ran out the house and chased you all the way down the block, waving her broom at you?"

Henry snorted out a laugh and slapped his knee.

"Yeah," he said. "She was pretty mad."

"I mean, you did bust her window and scare the heck out of her cat."

Henry leaned forward, elbows on the counter, and smiled at his friend. He remained quiet for a moment, listening to the aimless chatter around them.

"We've had some good times, haven't we?" Henry said.

"Yeah." Willy nodded, his face drawn tight. "Some great times."

Henry considered his friend's expression: eyes averted, deep lines forming around his brows. "Willy?" he asked. "You okay?"

"Henry, I got to tell you," Willy said. "This is the end of the road for me. Without baseball, there's no reason for me to stay in this town. There's nothing left for me here."

Henry felt his gut plummet down into the soles of his feet. His head prickled with dizziness.

"No ... no," Henry stammered. "We'll figure something out. Maybe we can get the Rooks back together. Or maybe we can head to another town. Join another team. Maybe we don't have to give up. You and me, we're both good players. There has to be a team that will take us."

"Listen Henry, baseball has been good to me. But it's not fun anymore, especially with everything going on these days. I'm beginning to think this town got us trapped. Like we're locked in a tiny cage. I just want to get out ... get a fresh start."

"What about me?" Henry said. "We're best friends. You're my only damn friend. What am I supposed to do without you?"

Henry saw the tired faces and sagging eyes of the men around them, and he realized he might be looking at his own future.

"Just give it some time," Henry said. "Think about it before you go running off."

"I already got it planned," Willy said. "My cousin Johnny came into town yesterday. He offered me a job in construction ... down in Birmingham. I had to decide right then and there. Only one spot left. So I decided to go for it."

Henry shook his head, unable to accept what his friend was telling him.

Willy continued. "This wasn't any easy decision to make. But I just can't stay here. I don't want to give up and sign my life over to the mill. That's all this town has left for me."

"How's a life of construction any better?" Henry snapped. "It's a waste of hauling bricks and mixing cement to make white men wealthy!"

Willy scowled. The expression seemed oddly foreign on his usually jovial face.

"It's my best option," Willy replied evenly. "It's a change and I think a change is just what I need right now."

Henry cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. This was just too much. And yet another blow he didn't need.

"You can't just leave me here!" Henry shouted and the other patrons started to stare. "After everything we've been through and everything I've done for you, you want to just end our friendship like that?! And for what? For a lousy construction job? You want to leave me behind for that?"

Willy frowned. "Henry, it's not like I want to leave. There's just nothing else for me here. There's nothing tying me to this tiny, small-minded place."

"You're just giving up on everything!" Henry said, wanting to spit the words on the floor. "You're throwing it all away. We could form our own team. We could do anything if we stuck together. That's what friends are supposed to do right? But then maybe you aren't even really my friend."

Willy gaped. "Henry! How can you even say that to me?"

"What?" Henry snapped. "It's obvious you don't give two figs about our friendship."

Even as he said these words, Henry knew they weren't true. He was only speaking in outrage. Behind that anger, he couldn't help but recall all the good times with Willy. Playing baseball when they were kids and causing trouble in the neighborhood. Even just the other day, Willy had very likely saved his life. If Willy hadn't been there to help him off the field, Henry could have been attacked further. He could have been arrested or beaten by police. Willy had saved him. Willy had always been there for him. But that was why Henry was hurting so badly. His heart was filled with pain at the thought of losing Willy. Why wasn't Willy feeling that very same way? How could Willy just decide to up and leave him behind so easily?

"Henry!" Willy said. "I'm lucky to even have this job. Do you know how many men are getting sent overseas to fight? I know I don't want to die in a war that has nothing to do with this country. There are men dealing with that reality and you're here complaining because you won't get to play baseball anymore." He let out a heavy sigh. "You got to understand where I'm coming from. I need to get a job that will give me a skill. If I learn construction, I'll have something to fall back on. We always knew that we would have to move on to something else eventually. Baseball is for young men and we won't be young forever. This was always gonna happen. It just happened a little sooner than we expected."

"But we don't have to stop now!" Henry said. "We still have plenty of good years left in us and there are lots of other teams. Why are you giving up so easily?"

"There's nothing to give up on!" Willy said, looking frustrated. "Even if we do join another team, how far you think we can get? I'm just preparing myself for the future, Henry. I just want to know I can do something other than baseball. I don't want to be one of those guys who gets injured and can't play, and has no other way to earn a living."

Henry's expression turned dark. "You keep telling yourself that, but I think you're just scared. You're giving up on something you want to do, for something you think you should do."

Willy said nothing, turning his face away from Henry and blinking rapidly.

Henry felt his own eyes become wet and glassy.

"You know I'm right, don't you?" Henry whispered.

Willy looked back at Henry with a small, sad smile.

"I know that you're my best friend," he said.

Henry kept his mouth shut. He wasn't ready to move on without Willy.

The two men sat in silence for a while.

Henry had nothing left to say to Willy, but he still wasn't ready to leave the bar. He just wanted to sit shoulder to shoulder with his best friend ... for one last time.

Author's Note:

This week, I'm keeping it short an sweet. I hope you like this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's a difficult time for Henry, for sure. And don't think it's going to get any better any time soon. But I do promise, there will be a turning point.

So what do you think? Constructive feedback is always welcome!

If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving a comment or vote.

As always, thanks for reading!   

Take care!

Tom

PS. I wrote 3 chapters this week. The next 2 are short ones!

P.S.S. Take a look at my comments, if you're interested. A few of them include some interesting background information about what I wrote and why I wrote it that way.