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Dylan

We’re
here.  After three years I’m going to see my brothers and sisters, and it’s
happening under some seriously fucked up circumstances.  I don’t have a clue
how they’ll react when they see me.  I wonder if Gabby will even remember me.  She
was so small the last time I saw her. I can’t believe I let what went down with
my dad keep me away from them.  It had nothing to do with them.  It was between
the old man and me.  I know I need to figure out how to make this shit right.

“Do
you need me to come in with you?” asks Jax.

“No,
man.  You can wait here.  I just want to grab them and go.”

Here
goes nothing.  I follow the social worker to the front door and try to psych
myself up for what waits for me on the other side.  A middle-aged woman answers
the door.  She has a sympathetic look on her face which does nothing to ease my
fears.  I don’t know if it’s for the shit storm the kids are going through, for
us losing our parents, or both.  Entering the house the first one I see is
Cassie.  My mind registers how much she’s grown.  She sees me as I come in and
grabs me, pulling me into a tight hug.

“Dylan,”
she sobs.  “They said you were coming.  I’m so glad you’re here.”  Her misery
is all over her face from tear-stained cheeks to puffy, red eyes.  I hug her
back tightly, hoping like hell I’m offering her some comfort.
“Hey, Cass.  I’m here.  I’m taking you guys home with me.  Where is everyone?”

“I’m
here, Dylan.”  Looking up, I see my oldest brother, Luke.  He doesn’t look so
much heartbroken as he does angry, no, scratch that, he looks pissed off.  I’m
assuming some of his anger is at me.  I know I deserve it too.   The last time
I saw him, he was a scrawny 13-year-old, happy kid.  I don’t see that now. 
“Are you taking us home?”

“Yeah,
man.  Just as soon as we gather up Michael and Gabby.  Where are they?”  He’s
contemplating whether he’s going to answer me.  He’s squinting his eyes and
clenching his fists, kind of like he wants to tell me to go to hell.

Standing
up from hugging Cassie, I go to Luke.  Taking ahold of his shoulders firmly,
“Luke, help me get the others ready to go home.  I’m here now, and I’m not
going anywhere.”  After glaring at me a beat longer, he turns toward the back
door of the house, and I see Michael and Gabby in the backyard.

I
step outside on the porch and call their names.  Michael runs to me and tackles
me like Cassie did.  Gabby just stares at me blankly.  She just looks at me
with a solemn expression on her face but doesn’t say a word. She has her dark
hair in pigtails, and although she has obviously grown a lot in three years,
she still has the same angelic face I remember.

I
look down at Michael who is still clutching my waist.  He looks at me from
behind his glasses with a hesitant face, “Do we get to stay with you, Dylan?” 

I
nod, “Yeah, do me a favor and go inside with Cassie and Luke and gather your
stuff.”

He
runs inside the house to do what I asked.

I
walk closer to Gabby and put my hand on her knee. I look into her eyes, which
continue to stare blankly back at me. “Gabby, I’m here. I’m not going
anywhere.”

Still
nothing.
She climbs off of the swing, and I kneel down
and wrap my arms around her tiny frame. “I have no idea what you’ve been
through in the last twenty-four hours, but I am here for you. Anything you need
just let me know.”

I
realize then that none of them have a reason to trust me and that I’m going to
have to earn it, and I need to earn it fast.  Losing their parents has to be
killing them.  Now, after three years of silence, I’m stepping back in to raise
them. 

Gabby
and I go inside where Cassie, Michael, and Luke are standing in the foyer with
the social worker and foster mother.

The
lady from social services hands me a card when I approach and says quietly just
to me, “This is your parents’ attorney.  You need to contact him tomorrow so he
can go over their will with you.  Good luck, Dylan.” 

The
kids meet me at the front door, and we’re out.  Cassie helps Michael and Gabby
get buckled in Jax’s truck while Luke and I put their stuff in the back. 
Climbing in, the three oldest greet Jax.  He came to Kansas with me several
times while we were in college.  That was before the shit hit the fan three
years ago.

Jax
and Sylvia always got along, but Sylvia got along with everyone.  My dad,
however, barely tolerated him.  It’s because Jax is a wild card, and with him
being my friend, he knew he had lost all control over the outcome of my life
that he wanted.

Arriving
at my parent’s house, Jax and I help the kids inside.  I look around noticing
nothing much has changed, and even though I grew up here I still feel like a
stranger.  Of course, I’m not surprised.  I checked out of their lives, and
they went on without me.

I
walk over to the dining room table where we always ate our holiday meals. I
remember how excited Sylvia always was to have everyone together. A sense of
melancholy sweeps over me as I realize we won’t ever have that again.

The
kids head to their rooms while Jackson and I go into the living room.  The only
differences are the addition of family pictures.  None starring me, however. 
From the couch, Jax says, “The place hasn’t changed much.  I expect Sylvia to
walk in from the kitchen with a plate of cookies.”

I
grin at his comment.  She had loved to bake.  Even when I was in high school
and would bring my friends home, she would always have warm cookies and milk. 
Then I had hated it.  I was sure it didn’t earn me any
cool
points with
my football buddies.  “Yeah, me too.”

Deciding
to get the call to the lawyer taken care of I pull out the business card and my
cell phone.  A woman answers, and then I’m connected to, “This is Edward
McCullough.  Am I speaking to Dylan Monroe?”

“Uh,
yeah.  I’m Dylan.  The lady from Social Services told me I needed to call you
right away to go over my parents will.  I just got the kids, and we’re home
now.”

“Do
you have time to meet today to speak about their will?” he asks.

“Yes,
today’s fine.  I need to find out what it says.”

“Okay.
I can meet you at your house in an hour if you’d like.  That way you don’t have
to bring the kids here.  Does that work for you?”

“I
will be here.”

I
hang up the phone and turn to Jax.  “He’ll be here in an hour.”

“He
didn’t tell you any details?”

I
shook my head. “No, just that he will be here in an hour.”

An
hour later the doorbell rings.  I open it to a man in an expensive black suit. 
He holds out his hand, “Dylan, I’m Edward.  I’d like to tell you how sorry I am
about your parents.”

I
shake his hand and invite him in.  I decide to show him to the dining room so
we can spread out and read the will.  He follows, and we take a seat at the
oversized table.

“Are
the children here?”

“Yeah,
they’re resting in their rooms.”

He
nods and pulls papers from his leather briefcase.  “Okay. I’ll keep this short.
I know that you have had a hell of a day already.  As you know, Daniel and
Sylvia had no other family other than you kids.  About two years ago they both
came to the office and had me draw up their will.  If anything were to happen
to them before the younger children were 18, they made you executor.  Each
child has an equal inheritance of money when they turn 18 from life insurance. 
It should be enough to set them up for college, provided that’s what they want
to do.  They’ve left you the house and cars.  Do you have any questions about
that?”

“No,
that seems pretty clear.”

“Good. 
I’ll leave a copy of these papers with instructions on the amount and
distribution of their inheritances.”

“Fine. 
What about the kids, though.  Does it say I get custody of them?”

“Since
you’re their only living relative, it just goes to reason that you get them,
Dylan.  We will, however, have to go to court for you to establish legal
guardianship.  It’s just a formality and shouldn’t be a problem.  I know you
have your business in Oklahoma, so are you planning on taking the kids there?”

“I
can’t say, Mr. McCullough.  I haven’t thought that far.  Right now all I can
think about is getting their funeral planned and taking care of the kids. I
don’t know if it would be a good thing to take them away from their home.  They
just lost our parents.  My business partner can handle things in Oklahoma City
until I get things figured out.” In the back of my mind, I think to ask.  “So
when do we go to court?”

“Thursday
at 2:00.  As of right now you have temporary custody until granted
guardianship.  The judge will decide that, provided there aren’t any concerns. 
The only concern I see him having would be your age.”

“My
age?” I question.

“Yes,
Dylan.  You’re 26 years old, unmarried, and are going to have to become
responsible for four minors.  For some judges, that can be a red flag.” 
I
do not like this dickhead’s tone of voice all of a sudden.

I
try to keep my cool.  “I’m their brother.  Why wouldn’t I get them?  Plus I’m
their only family.”

“Again,
you’re a young bachelor.  That doesn’t exactly spin a message of being stable
and responsible.  And besides being your father’s lawyer, I was his friend.  He
mentioned on more than one occasion that you have a history of irresponsible
choices.”  I can feel my jaw tense, I don’t know this guy, but of course, my
father has told him about my
past.
I shake my head and wonder why my
father left everything to me when he didn’t trust me.

I
stare him down.  “Fine.  Court is on Thursday at 2.  Got it.  Is there anything
special I need to bring? Maybe proof that I own a fucking million dollar
business? Because, by all means, we need to show the courts that I’m
responsible.”  I know he can’t miss how bitter I sound.

“Whatever
you want to bring to show you make enough money as well as how stable and
responsible you are will be helpful.  One thing I suggest is covering up your
tattoos.  They don’t help send the message that you’re,” he looks at me wearily
before saying,
“mature.”

Is
he fucking serious?
 So I have ink.  It’s hard to find
anybody these days without a tat, or two or ten.  My body isn’t covered.  In
fact, my ink is pretty damn tame compared to say, Jackson.  I have half
sleeves, some on my torso, and one on my neck.  I was “responsible” when I had
every one of them designed, well, except for the one of my neck.  That was high
school bullshit, so it doesn’t count.  “My tattoos can cost me custody?”

He
looks at me like he’s irritated. 
Well, join the club ass wipe.
 “It’s
doubtful the judge will see them favorably, Dylan.  Just cover them and don’t
chance it.”  Seriously, this guy is starting to piss me off.

He
gathers up papers and puts them back in his briefcase then stands to leave. 
Thank Christ.  It’s everything I can do not to throat punch the pompous ass.  I
show him to the door and head back to the living room where Jax is waiting, and,
of course, the fucker is sitting there trying not to laugh, until he does, loudly.

“How
close were you to decking that jerk off?”

“About
three seconds out.  He’s lucky he decided to leave when he did.  Can you
believe that shit?  Ink is irresponsible and immature?”  I’m watching him
continue to laugh his ass off.  “At least, I’m not as immature as your ass. 
You’ve got more tats than I do.”  Okay, now I’m laughing.  “What the fuck is
this, the 1940s?”

“Maybe
because it’s Kansas.”

“Whatever. 
Oklahoma’s supposed to be the Bible belt, but damn if there aren’t tattoo shops
on every corner since they legalized it.”

“Just
wear a suit and put a bandage over your neck piece.  It shouldn’t show that
much above a shirt collar.”

“Yeah,
that’s another thing we need to do. Make sure the kids have clothes for the
funeral and get some shit for us.  Not to mention we need to get food.  Are you
planning to go to the funeral?”

“Yup,
I’ll go.  Funerals aren’t my favorite, but you were there for me when my
grandpa died, so I have every intention to help get you through this.”

“Thanks,
man.  I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with it, though.  When are you
planning on going home to check on the shop?”

“I’ll
leave after the funeral.  How about I help you get things settled with the kids
and the funeral out of the way before we worry about the business?  I’ll call
Joe and tell him that he and Joy will need to step up for a little while
longer.”

I
wince when he mentions Joy.  She’s been calling my cell phone all day and sending
text messages.  They started out, what I think she thought was sexy, but not so
much.  By the time noon rolled around they had gone more to pissed off.  Right
now I have no desire to go back to OKC.  I still can’t decide whether I want to
discuss this fuck up with Jax yet.  I think I’ll just wait for her to get the
message and back off.  That’s usually how it works when the chicks get clingy.