Epilogue
Stryder
The new spacious gallery in Windfield was teeming with people, mostly football players and sports enthusiasts.
I went around beaming with pride, accepting congratulations from my former teammates and even fans. Naturally, they all wanted to know if I was ever going back to football. It felt good to be missed, but I wasn’t done yet with my photography journey.
A beautiful, fulfilling year in London had passed. I had another year to go, but I’d decided to come back home first and hold a solo exhibit in the city that I loved. Alongside the numerous painful memories of Windfield were countless wonderful memories too. I’d grown and learned a lot over the past year, and this time I wanted to give back to the place I knew as home and to the football team I’d embraced as my family.
My exhibit entitled “My First Love” was all about football. Just the previous week, I’d gone to a Windfield Warriors game for the first time as a photographer. It was just as I had imagined. The game had a pull on me, of course, awakening my love for the sport. But I enjoyed being in the sidelines too, capturing moments that the audience often didn’t see from where they sat in the bleachers.
“Congratulations, Mr. Cooper,” a familiar voice said.
I smiled, recognizing the voice of the woman I loved. Turning around, I took her in my arms and gave her a lingering kiss.
“What’s that for?” she asked, giggling.
“Just because,” I replied with a grin.
“Looks like somebody’s very happy!” she said.
“I am, Tasha,” I told her. “Everything’s falling into place.”
“I’m so happy for you, Stryder!” she said, giving me a hug.
Our friends eventually surrounded us. I placed an arm around her shoulders as we conversed with them. I felt very much at home, joyful and fulfilled. There was only one thing left to make everything absolutely perfect.
As I was talking, I caught sight of him from the corner of my eye. It was my dad, approaching me with a serious look on his face. I braced myself for painful words. During my stay in London, I’d only talked to him on special occasions such as his birthday and mine. We hadn’t said much, but we had kept in touch through email. He’s never expressed support, though, but had not emphasized his disappointment and frustrations again.
“Stryder,” he said, nodding in acknowledgement when it was finally just the two of us.
“Dad,” I said in greeting, waiting for him to say something first. Our friends parted, saying hello to him and then dispersing into their own groups of conversation. I felt Tasha moving away, but I took her hand firmly, silently urging her to stay. She did, standing by my side quietly.
“Tasha,” Dad said, glancing at my girlfriend. At least he did not ignore her. Then turning to me again, I’d never forget the next words he said. “I’m proud of you, my son. You have done well.”
That was all he said, and it was enough. I was frozen on the spot as he came forward to hug me and give me a pat on the back.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my heart bursting with unexpressed emotions. There was still a lot left unsaid, a long way to go before we could repair our relationship as father and son. But this was definitely a wonderful beginning for us.
Before he turned away, he even said, “Take care, you two. I’ll see you around.”
Tasha smiled at me then. “And the day has just moved from great to perfect!” she exclaimed, beaming at me.
“Right,” I agreed, embracing her.
I now had peace of mind, and I was more than eager to delve deeper into my newfound passion. I was totally inspired, looking forward to a more beautiful and meaningful year together with the love of my life.
“This is touchdown for you, Stryder,” Tasha whispered.
“You’re my ultimate touchdown, Tasha,” I whispered back with a smile, leaning down to kiss her.
She smiled back, saying, “Hut! Hut! Hut! Or should I now say Click! Click! Click?”
We both laughed. It was definitely a very fine day.
THE END