An Unexpected Turn

by TJ Fox

  “I think I’m going to wait until tomorrow to set the computer up, but that’s going to work. Thanks, Riff. That was a huge help.” I’m smiling at the fact that it is one more thing in place that will help them feel more at home. It’s going to take a while, but little by little, I’ll do what I can to make it easier.

  He nods and motions back to the stairs. “I’m gonna go play now unless you need me for something else.”

  “Nah. I’m good. Go have fun.” I wave him off and decide to go work in my office for a little while. That way, I’ll be upstairs if Simone or B needs me.

  When I get up there, I hear music. B is playing on the floor in the middle of his room. I watch him for a few minutes. He’s too busy to notice me, so I walk across the hall where the music is coming from and see Simone curled up in the window seat with her sketchbook in her lap and pencils all around. An iPod is docked in a speaker on top of the dresser across from the door. Quietly, I step away from her door and into my office.

  I send off a quick note to the lawyer telling him to go ahead and file the paperwork. Grabbing some files, I take my own seat in front of the window. These spaces are just a few of the things that had me falling in love with this house and where I spend a large chunk of my time. I love the lighting and being able to just sit and watch the world outside.

  I sit and listen to my normally quiet house filled with the sound of B playing in his room and Simone’s music as it drifts out of hers. I never thought I’d have this other than the moments when Jorie and Rusty were here, and I knew those were never meant to last. This moment? It is the first of many. I close my eyes, breathing it in, attempting to fix it permanently in my memory.

  Absolute sunshine.

  I could soak in the peace forever, but I turn my attention to the papers Mr. Ferrell gave me. Flipping past the ones I signed, I find the ones that outline the specifics of the trusts. I need to understand how I’m going to have to adjust financially to support the kids long term.

  The paperwork goes into detail about what is and isn’t covered by the trust and what would be allowed for expenses on their behalf. They won’t be set for life by any means, but they will have a good start and a chance to go to college without going into debt. They could be even better off if they were to get scholarships.

  I stare out the window, unseeing. I told Mr. Ferrell this morning that I don’t want money for taking the kids. I want to be able to do this on my own. The list of things their guardian has a right to claim as expenses has me thinking about the choices I’ll have to make. Some of what I bought today could legitimately be used to make a claim, but taking money for those kinds of things means less they have later to get started in life. As for what I got today, it was what I wanted for them as much as for what they needed.

  Becoming responsible for three kids isn’t going to be easy, but it’s important to me to be the one to support them. At the same time, it would be wrong to make them do without or suffer because I’m stubborn. I just don’t know where the balance is. Probably like most things, there isn’t a fixed line, but one that constantly moves. For now, the balance is on my side, and I can afford to do these things for them without claiming an expense. There may be times in the future where I have to make a claim, but in the end, the money doesn’t change anything. I will still do absolutely everything I need to for them, however I need to do it.

  I am suddenly hit with the reality that I just became a parent to three struggling kids. Please don’t let me screw this up.

  Chapter 20

  Sunday is spent in and out of a semi-awkward comfort. For the first time since we were thrown together, we don’t have the distractions of the hospital, errands, or other people running in and out. It’s just the four of us attempting to learn each other’s personalities and how we fit together. Simone and Riff have both finished their personal notebooks and are taking turns adding to B’s. The fact that they are taking my request so seriously impresses me.

  B is getting his energy back, and it’s becoming harder to keep him throttled down. He wants to do more than his body is ready for, so my creativity continues to be challenged as I attempt to come up with low-key activities for him. We spent some time out in the back yard on the swing. He convinced Riff and Simone to go on a walk with him down the street and back. He wanted to go around the block, but I told him he would need to wait a few more days before he was ready to tackle that one.

  I get the computer set up in the dining room. Making sure the kids can personalize things without stepping on each other’s toes, I create individual accounts for each of them. I also bookmark a few game sites that Jorie likes on B’s user account, planning to show them to him later. Since they have passed Jules’ rigorous standards, I know they will be safe and fun for him, as well as educational. After researching a few free drawing software options, I find one that I think Simone would enjoy and get it downloaded on her account. I’m sure they will find their own interests, but this gives them a starting point.

  I place a notebook in the drawer. This will be where I will have them put all their usernames and passwords for the different sites they want to use or visit. Giving them access to a computer does not mean they have the freedom to do whatever they want. While trust is an issue, safety will always come first, and as long as they have access to the computer, I will have full access to what they are doing.

  The kids get back from their walk and come in the front door. I call them over and show them how I’ve set things up and what they need to do to access their accounts. B is immediately excited about the game sites and wants to get started right away. Riff and Simone want to go do their own thing for a while, so I show B the basics and let him play.

  He isn’t playing long before he complains about his side hurting. I look to make sure he hasn’t done anything to irritate his incision sites, but they look good. I think he’s just overdone things again. I suggest some medicine and a rest. He argues a little, but I tell him that if he rests for a while and agrees to take it a little easier, I’ll see about letting him go without it tomorrow.

  I get him settled and let Simone know that the computer is free if she wants to check it out. Riff is on the couch watching TV, and Simone heads to the computer. We are talking about what to have for dinner about twenty minutes later when someone knocks at the door.

  Jules and I talked yesterday, and we agreed the kids and I needed time alone, so I can’t imagine who it might be. Maybe a salesman or someone promoting their church. I debate ignoring it, but I’m afraid they’ll keep knocking and wake B.

  I open the door to see a police officer and Betty standing on my front porch. My heart sinks into my stomach. Fear nearly swallows me as I look at Betty’s face hoping for some indication that I’m wrong.

  “Dylan?” I am amazed that my voice not only manages to come out, but that it does so clearly past the knot that has formed in my throat.

  She steps forward. “Teri, why don’t we go inside and sit down?” She gives me a tiny nod and puts her hand on my arm.

  No. Don’t. Don’t say it. Please, don’t say it.

  My fingers are clenched on the edge of the door that I barely have open. I can only nod.

  I have barely pulled the door open to let them in when I hear Simone’s broken cry from right behind me. The sound she makes has the hair standing on the back of my neck, and chills running down my spine. I spin around to find her falling to her knees as though all solidity has left her. “No!!” It’s nearly a howl as she sobs, “Dylan!” I bend, ready to hug her when I see Riff rearing back and kicking at his bag of soccer stuff he’d left behind the couch. I stop my downward motion towards Simone and race to Riff. I reach up and put my hands on either side of his neck at the base of his head. “Riff.”

  I am afraid he might hurt himself or do something he regrets.

  “Riff! Stop! Look at me!” It’s nearly impossible to slow his thrashing as he’s
several inches taller than me, but I finally get him to face me.

  He is so pissed, and I’m worried for a brief moment that he might strike out at me. “Riff! Think about B. He cannot get upset right now. If he does, he can hurt himself. You can be angry, that’s okay, but not right now. Right now, I need you to focus on B. Take care of him first. You can fall apart later, but you need to help me keep him from getting upset and hurting himself. I need you to go upstairs and get B.”

  I squeeze to emphasize how important this is and to force him to focus on me. His breathing is heavy and choppy, and he is nearly panting.

  “He needs you, Riff. Please, take care of your brother. Can you do that?” It is a desperate plea, but it reaches him.

  After a deep breath and a harsh glare at me, then at Betty and the officer, he jerks out of my hold and runs up the stairs. I rush back to Simone who is still over by the entry. Bending down, I help her up and over to the couch.

  “Simone, it’s okay to be upset, but you need to breathe. Come on. Breathe with me.” Her arms are wrapped tightly around herself, and I’ve got my arms around her. She is crying so hard I’m worried she’s going to hyperventilate. I breathe in and out and talk her through doing the same. After a few times through, she is still crying hard but breathing easier. I have her hugged tight against my side. She’s moved so she is holding onto me so tightly she’s likely to leave bruises, but I don’t shift her.

  I look over the back of the couch as Betty and the officer walk over. She takes a seat in front of the window, and the officer stands just to the side of her chair.

  Riff is coming down the stairs carrying a crying B. His arms wrapped tightly around his brother, B’s head is buried in the crook of Riff’s neck.

  “I heard Simone cry, and it scared me.” B lifts his head and looks at the officer, not paying attention to Betty. “Why is the police here?” He cries harder. “Is he taking us away? I don’t want to go!”

  Riff brings B over to where Simone and I are on the couch and sits close to me. B turns to crawl in my lap. I lift one of my arms off Simone and pull Riff into my other side. He doesn’t resist. He even turns and buries his face in my shoulder.

  “No, sweetie. You aren’t going anywhere, and no one is taking you away from me. I’ve got you.” I kiss B on the head as he wraps his arms around my middle, finding room around Simone’s arms.

  In that moment, no matter how much she has helped us through this, I kind of hate Betty. I know it isn’t her fault, that she is just here to deliver news we all expected was coming, but none of us wanted to believe. Her being here now is tearing away the last bit of hope the kids had of Dylan ever coming back.

  “You found him.” It isn’t a question.

  She doesn’t say a word for several minutes, just watching us as the kids cling to me. When she finally speaks, her voice is soft and full of compassion. “The police will need confirmation, but yes. I’m so sorry.”

  Riff is shaking against my side, and there is a wetness soaking into my shoulder. Simone’s sobbing ramps up at Betty’s words, and B has buried his head in my chest. His entire body is heaving. It feels as if I’m trying to hold us all through an earthquake.

  Betty hesitates a moment before continuing. “We’re going to need someone to go to the station to do that. Would you be willing to go? I could stay with them. Or you could call your friend?” She has leaned forward slightly, looking uncomfortable.

  I can only shake my head. “No. I can’t do that.”

  “Teri, I know this is hard, but… “

  I just look at her. “You can’t be serious.” Breathe. Keep breathing. “No. No, I won’t leave them. With you or anyone else. I can’t believe you would expect me to. Not now. Not after everything.” My words are harsh and sharp, but I can’t help it. “Maybe you should contact Dylan’s lawyer, Josh Ferrell. He can do whatever needs to be done. Now… I think you need to leave.”

  A pained look crosses her face, but she nods and stands. “Alright. Please, call me if you need anything.”

  I close my eyes and hug the kids tighter. No longer caring if Betty or the officer are still in the room, in the house or even anywhere on this planet, I hold these three broken kids together as we all cry.

  We sit there and hold each other through the tears and sniffles and stuttering breaths until the room is dark, and we’ve all gone quiet with exhaustion, yet no one moves. We remain there, still sitting and holding each other.

  B is asleep on my chest. Simone is hugging both of us on my right, and Riff mirrors her on my left. I know it’s mostly because I’m the only one here, and they need to cling to someone, but I take a tiny bit of comfort in being able to be what they need right now.

  My shirt is soaked with snot and tears, but I don’t move. I don’t let go. Finally, Riff lifts his head. Eyes swollen and red, he looks at B, then over to Simone who is starting to sit back as well, both still clinging on. When he looks at me, there is no anger or confusion. He is just lost. So incredibly lost.

  “Now…” His voice is so hoarse and gravelly, he has to clear his throat to speak. “Now what?”

  I squeeze them both a bit. “We just do what we’ve been doing. Take care of what needs to be done and keep moving.”

  Keeping my focus on him so he understands how much importance I’m placing on it, I ask, “What do you need?”

  He knows I can’t give him what he truly wants. We’ve been through that once already. Tears. Oh, so many tears. We think we’ve run out, only to find they are bottomless.

  “I don’t want to be alone,” he admits. For a boy his age, one on the cusp of adulthood, it’s a painful thing to admit, but it is much less painful than everything else he is feeling.

  “Not going to happen. I’m going to be right here.” I tighten my arm that is still around his back, and he nods.

  Simone has her head back on my shoulder and is running her hand over the back of B’s head. “What about you, Simone?”

  She just keeps rubbing, not looking up. “I don’t know.” Still not stopping. “This?”

  We drift back to the quiet, a little calmer. Not better. That isn’t an option right now, but calmer isn’t actively shattering and breaking apart.

  I wake in the dark with a cramp in my neck and both arms asleep. We are all still in the same spots as earlier. Not one of us has moved except where sleep dragged an arm down, or a head has slumped to the side. The clock on the TV says it’s only 9:30. I should probably try to get them to wake up and eat something, but I doubt I’d get anyone to take more than a bite or two.

  Carefully, I slide out from between Riff and Simone, holding B, so he doesn’t fall. I turn to put him back where I was sitting. I’m not leaving them. I just need to get my phone and start making a few calls. I take a moment for my brain to shift through the mess of earlier, not remembering where I left it. The sound of it vibrating on the table in the dining room must be what woke me. Hearing it again finally clears my head, and I walk over to grab it.

  There are a couple of notifications about new voicemails and several missed texts. I don’t bother reading them, but I send Jules a note telling her I’ll call later, then dial my voicemail. I listen to it as I go back to the couch where the kids are still sleeping and sit on the coffee table facing the couch.

  One of the messages is from Jules wondering why I hadn’t answered her texts, so I just delete it. The concern in her voice is evident, but I’ve already sent her a text, so she knows I’ll call when I can. The next is a message from Mr. Ferrell asking me to call. The number he leaves isn’t the one I recognize as the office number, so I grab a notepad from the coffee table and write it down.

  It barely rings before he answers. “Josh Ferrell speaking.”

  “Mr. Ferrell, this is Teri Griffin. Did the police contact you?” My voice causes Riff to stir.

  “Yes. That is why I was calling. I’ve b
een to the station already. I took it upon myself to identify the body. There…” He pauses. My guess is that he is not finding it easy to finish. “There is no doubt, I’m afraid.”

  “The ruling will be accidental overdose, but that won’t be official until any tests are completed.” His voice breaks at that, and I understand what he isn’t saying. What most likely happened. Dylan said that he wasn’t going to suffer through to the end. I just never really believed he would do it. I guess I thought there would still be the chance to convince him to give the kids those last moments. That isn’t a possibility now. He has taken even that from these kids.

  Clearing his throat, he continues, “He had already made arrangements, so I’ve made the necessary calls to get those moving forward. I will call again in a day or so to go over his wishes with you. You can decide then what you and the children want to do. We will need to discuss his estate, but we can talk about that later as well.” After a slight pause, he asks, “How are they?”

  “Hurting. Lost. Confused.” Riff is sitting up and rubbing his face. B has shifted and has his head on Riff’s lap. “I’ve got them.”

  “Right, then. I’ll let you know when everything is in place. Take care.” The line goes dead.

  Simone is awake. She and Riff are watching me. I have no words for them. None that change things. None that make anything better or less painful. They are being buried by the shit right now, and I have no sunshine to give them. She gets B up, and he sits between his brother and sister. They are all that is left now.

  “That was Mr. Ferrell.” I don’t want to say the words, but they have to hear them. They already know, but these words make what they know undeniable. They take away any remaining shred of hope.

  “He spoke to the police and confirmed that Dylan died. He’s taking care of everything and will let us know more in a day or two.” The words are spoken quietly, but they hear them. All the crying earlier has drained everyone. There are still tears, but this time they are quiet.