by T. K. Chapin
“Anything else?” the man asked as he penned notes on the cup.
I thought about Kristen. What would she want? I wondered. I went with my gut.
“Sir?” the man behind the counter said.
“Just make it two of those Ventis, please.”
“Okay.”
After returning to the hotel, I saw Kristen standing in front of my hotel door, knocking. I smiled as I approached her. She began tapping her foot and looking back and forth down each way. I felt kind of bad as I laughed quietly. She was probably worried I died or something.
“Who are you?!” I shouted in a deep voice from right behind her, startling her. She jumped up and screamed as she twirled around. She laughed and smacked me in the shoulder.
“You freaked me out so bad!” she said, laughing.
I handed her a coffee and said, “I couldn’t help it when I saw you.” I smiled.
“Brat,” she said, trying to hide her smile. She took a sip of the coffee and her eyes widened. “Wow… this is good,” she looked at the cup and asked, “What is this?”
“Sweet nectar of the gods, of course,” I replied.
She laughed. “Whatever it is, it’s yummy…”
I smiled. “Triple Venti White Chocolate Mocha Brava is the official title of it.”
“That’s a mouthful! It’s delicious. I’ll have to remember this for next time I get coffee.”
“It’s what I get every time.”
“I usually just get Frappuccinos. I never know what to order and they have a million things on the menu board.”
I laughed. “Yeah, that menu is ridiculous. I just get what my mom used to order.”
She smiled. “That’s cute.”
Opening my door, I held it open for her to come inside. “Were you worried when I wasn’t answering?” I asked as I followed her in and shut the door behind me.
She nodded. “I was standing there for like a solid ten minutes knocking… I wasn’t sure if you were just a hard sleeper or if your wounds got the best of you.”
“I couldn’t sleep very well, so I got up early and went looking for coffee.”
“Yeah? They had some in the lobby. I saw the machine last night.”
I cringed. “I tried that stuff this morning… It was nasty.”
She laughed and took another sip. “How are your wounds doing?”
I finished my coffee and tossed it into the garbage can. “They’re okay.” I got up and went over to my duffle bag. Pulling out the will, I said, “Thanks for grabbing this by the way.”
“No problem… I grabbed whatever I could find that looked important. Your cell phone is in there too.”
“Cool,” I replied. Looking at the address for Timothy, I pulled my phone out of the bag and punched it in. After the directions loaded, I looked at Kristen and said, “Looks like it’s only about ten minutes from here.”
“We knew it was close, but that’s super close! Let’s go,” she replied.
I nodded and smiled.
Getting into her car, I set the phone on my lap and tried pulling on the seat belt, but that sharp pain in my side screamed out. “Ahhh!” I said.
“Need some help?” she asked.
“That’d be great,” I replied, with a half-smile. I hated needing help, but appreciated her willingness.
Reaching over the armrest between us, she grabbed onto the seatbelt and began pulling it across my chest. A whiff of her hair blew into my face and I couldn’t help but smile as she latched me in. She caught me smiling.
“What?” she asked.
I turned red in embarrassment. “Nothing.”
“No… tell me why you were smiling like that, Kane.”
“Okay… well, your hair,” I paused and looked at her as her eyes were wide and fixated on me.
“Yeah? What about my hair?”
“It smells really good. I know that’s weird… but I just like the way it smells.” I put my hand out in confusion of the words coming out of my mouth.
She laughed. “That’s so funny you say that. I love the smell of my hair too. I have this special leave-in treatment I put in it.”
“Really? They make stuff you leave in your hair?” I asked.
She smiled and replied, “Yeah, dork.” She put her hand behind my seat and began backing out of the parking space.
Coming to a stop alongside the curb in a residential neighborhood, I double checked the address to make sure it was right. 5464 Sydney Ave. “That’s it,” I said, looking down at the will and then back up at the house. Looking over at Kristen, I saw her beaming. “What?”
“I’m just excited for you… this could be a start of a relationship with your long lost brother.”
“My brother died in Iraq.” I nodded the direction of the house as I continued, “This guy is just a DNA brother. Big difference.”
She nodded as the smile fell away. Touching my arm, she said, “Well, regardless… I think it’s brave to have a desire to come down here and meet him.”
“Thanks,” I replied, opening the car door. Closing it, I glanced at Kristen to see her waving from inside the car. I laughed and waved back at her.
Turning around, I looked the house over. It was red bricked, one level and had a cracking cement ramp leading up to the front door. I walked up the driveway until I came to the door. Giving it a firm knock, I stepped back and waited for someone to answer.
The door opened and an old man coughed as he pushed open the screen door. “Yes?” he said in a raspy voice.
“Hi. I’m looking for Timothy?”
He coughed again and spat on the porch, right next to an old worn rug. “You must be talking about Tim. He’s not here right now. He’s down the block at Dwayne’s house.”
I glanced around and asked, “Where is that?”
The gentleman stepped out from the screen door and pointed down the road. “Just go down to the pink house and turn right. But if you make it to the blue house, you went too far. Once you turn right at the pink house go to the white house and it’s right next to that. It’s a blue house.”
“Okay…” I replied, laughing to myself at his extensive directions. “Thank you.”
He shooed his hand out and said, “Don’t worry about it.” He began coughing again. “And if you do see him, let him know that the pharmacy called and the other half of Kyle’s script is ready for pick up.”
“Script?” I asked.
“Prescription.” The old man squinted and asked, “You kind of slow or something?”
I shook my head. “No, sir. Thank you.”
He nodded and went back into the house and shut the door. Walking down the driveway back to the car, I wondered to myself who Kyle was and what prescription he had. Did Timothy know my older brother Kyle when he was alive? Did he name his kid after him or something?
I returned to the car, got inside, and shut the door.
“So?” Kristen asked.
I looked at her and said, “He wasn’t there, but he’s at some guy’s house, some guy named Dwayne?”
“Okay,” she replied. “How do I get there?”
I laughed as I recalled the directions. “Turn around and go up and take your next right.”
“Alright.” Kristen pulled a u-turn and headed to the corner. “Who was that guy you were talking to?”
I shrugged. “Old… other than that, I don’t know.”
We turned onto the street and I pointed out the blue house. “There. That’s where he said Timothy is…”
Getting out, I leaned back in through the car door and asked, “Want to go with me?”
She shrugged. “Sure.” Getting out of the car, she looked over at the white house we passed. “That’s a nice house. I like those pillars out front.”
I glanced over. “Yeah, they’re nice,” I replied, admiring the look on her face as she looked at them.
Walking up the path to the house, we saw a few guys out in the garage that was attached to the house. Leaning to one side, I spott
ed him. My heart jumped a little seeing him again. This time I wasn’t angry, I was more eager to meet him than anything else.
Veering off the path, Kristen and I headed up the driveway to the garage. Timothy came out with a beer in his hand and took a swig as we walked up. His ripped up jeans and flannel red cutoff shirt was a far cry from the suit I saw him in at the will reading.
He narrowed his eyes at me and ran his fingers through his greasy black hair. “What are you doing here?” he asked, tipping his chin. His friends came out of the garage and stood on either side of him.
“I just wanted to come meet you,” I said.
He held out his arms and said, “Here I am.”
Making eye contact with him and then the other guys, I asked, “Could we talk?”
He furrowed his eyebrows. “That money is mine.”
My eagerness to meet him was overwhelmed by anger as I felt every fiber of my being wanting to leap across the cement that separated us and beat him to a bloody pulp. There were two problems with that happening. First being I was injured and would likely fall before reaching him and second, I didn’t come to fight him, I came to understand him and my mother. I cleared my throat and said, “I just want to get to know my brother.”
He glared at me and then spat on the ground. “Your brother’s dead.” He turned around and headed back into the garage.
I began to move towards him, but Kristen’s hand grabbed my arm and she said in a whisper, “Don’t do it, Kane. He’s not worth it.”
I looked back at her and said, “Oh, it’d be worth it. I’d destroy him before my mind would even let me feel the pain in my side. He can’t talk about Kyle like that!” I snapped back at her.
Kristen looked over at Timothy. “You won’t accomplish anything… and you’ll never find out why your mom did it if you act on that impulse.”
She was right. I relaxed myself and took a deep breath in. “Thanks…”
“Let’s get out of here,” she said, pulling my arm around in the driveway and leading me back to her car.
After we got in, I glared out the car window at him standing on the driveway. “I don’t get why people like that exist in the world.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know,” Kristen replied. Turning the key over, we began to drive down the road.
“Wait, go back to the other house. I have an idea,” I said.
“Okay.” She turned the car around and drove back over to the first house we went to.
Jumping out of the car, I ran up to the door and knocked again.
“You again? What do you want?” The old man asked, angered.
“I couldn’t tell Tim about the prescription.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was out of control and rude.”
The old man coughed and nodded. “That’s how he gets when he starts drinking.”
“Oh, he’s not usually a drinker?” I asked, hopeful.
The old man laughed in his raspy voice. “I reckon you are a little stupid, Boy. Tim gets rude everyday when starts drinking at about noon.”
“Oh,” I replied, with a saddened tone. “Do you need me to get the prescription? For Kyle?”
The old man narrowed his eyes. “Who are you? And why are you so interested in my boy, Tim?”
My eyes widened. “Tim’s your son?”
“He’s my nephew. But yes, he might as well be my son. Who are you?”
“I’m his brother…”
The old man furrowed his eyebrows, coughed and turned his back on me, slamming the door shut behind him. Knocking again on the screen as I heard the deadbolt lock, I shouted, “Please, sir! I need to talk to you!”
“Kane,” Kristen said from behind me.
I kept knocking as I became more angry and desperate. “Sir! Please!” I shouted. Turning around, I dropped down to sit on the steps and held my head in my palms.
Kristen came and sat beside me without saying a word.
Looking up at her after a moment, I was comforted by how beautiful Kristen was. She looked upset, just as much as I did. “I don’t get why these people are treating me like this? And why would my mom leave all the money to Timothy?”
Kristen shrugged. “Again, I don’t know…” She sighed. “Well, it sounds like he gets a late start. Maybe you can catch him before his drinking starts tomorrow?”
“I don’t think being sober is going to change anything.” I looked at my phone for the time. “It’s barely after twelve thirty in the afternoon… I doubt he was already plastered.” Standing up, I sighed and headed towards Kristen’s car with her. Getting in, I looked back to the house and saw the old man peek out the blinds. “Maybe…”
“What?” she asked.
I grabbed a receipt from the glove box and wrote on the back of it the address and name of the hotel. I also added that I’d be leaving in the morning. Getting out of Kristen’s car, I ran back up to the house and stuck it between the screen door and the door frame.
Getting back into the car, Kristen asked, “Just going to hope he shows up?”
“Nah…” I replied, shaking my head.
“Then what?” she asked.
“I’m going back to the hotel to pray he shows up.”
Kristen smiled and pulled away from the curb.
CHAPTER 17
After a long afternoon and partway into the evening, I began to give up hope that Timothy was ever going to show up. Then we got a knock on the hotel door. Our eyes both widened as we leaped from our chairs at the table in my room. She went to the window and peeked out while I looked out through the peephole.
“Oh my gosh, Kane!” Kristen said. “He’s here! It worked! Our prayers worked!”
I smiled and nodded at her. Grabbing the doorknob, I opened the door.
“Hey,” Timothy said in a soft tone.
“Hi,” I replied. “You came.”
Looking over at the window, he said, “Could we have that talk? Maybe without your girlfriend.”
She hurried past me grinning and went back to her room. I smiled as I watched her unlock her door and go inside. She shot me a short wave before closing the door.
“Come on inside,” I said, opening my door the rest of the way and stepping out of his way so he could enter.
“Thanks,” he said, walking in past me. “Sorry about earlier… I was caught off guard when you showed up. I was scared you just wanted to show up and take my money. Later in the day, I got home and talked to my Uncle Mike. He said I should come see you since it might be the only chance I get. So I came.”
“I see,” I replied. That must be an adoptive uncle or something, I thought to myself.
He sat down in one of the chairs at the small table in the room. He flipped over the glass ashtray and was about to light a cigarette. “Do you mind?” he asked.
I came over to the table and sat down. “I don’t care.” I reached over and opened up the window for ventilation. “So…”
He lit his smoke and tossed the lighter on the table. “What do you want to know?” he asked, pushing the smoke towards the window as he exhaled.
“Everything.”
He laughed. “I don’t have time for that. I have to get back to Kyle.”
“First off, who’s Kyle?”
He adjusted in his seat and leaned across the table as he set his smoke down in the ashtray. “He’s my son.”
“Okay. Did you name him after my Kyle?”
Timothy scoffed and shook his head. “Your Kyle? I think he was all of ours…”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“We have the same dad. Mom just couldn’t deal with me… so she gave me up.”
“Why?”
“She was seventeen at the time.”
“Wow,” I replied, leaning back. “When did you meet my… I mean our mom? And how?”
He picked his smoke back up and took another puff. “She found me the first time about six years ago. Right after Kyle died.”
“And why did you
name your son after Kyle?”
His jaw clenched as he looked down at the table and shook his head. “My wife liked the name. Why do you care so much?” he asked, looking up at me with furrowed eyebrows.
“I’m trying to learn about you. I didn’t know you even existed until you showed up at the will reading.”
He pointed his smoke at me that was between his fingers. “I was at that funeral. I was in the back, laying low. Trying to be respectful to all that were there.” He sniffed and wiped a runaway tear from his eye as he continued, “I loved Mom in my own way. But I didn’t condone what she did to you guys by not telling you about me.”
“Wait. You said, ‘the first time’ was around the time that Kyle died. What happened with that?”
“I was bad into meth, and I attacked her.”
I thought back to the time that Kyle had died. I remember her specifically having a bloody-red eye that she blamed on a car door hitting her in the face. “Did you hit her in the eye or something?”
He nodded. “Yeah, with an ashtray… Kind of like this glass one.” He pointed to the ashtray on the table. “That was a bad part of my life… I thought I’d never see her again after that.”
“Then what happened?” I asked, scooting my chair closer to the table. “What changed?”
He shrugged and put out his smoke, saying, “She forgave me.”
“She had a forgiving spirit.”
“She reached out to me again after the cancer diagnosis. She wanted to see me.”
“And she changed the will around that time… Did she tell you why?”
He shook his head and said, “I don’t know why she changed it. I didn’t even know she did that or had a life insurance policy to begin with,” he replied.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
He shrugged and acted like he was confused about it.
“Wait. Your son… Kyle?”
“Yeah?”
“Does he have cancer? That old guy at your house said something about a prescription? Or is there something else wrong? I saw a ramp.”
Timothy shook his head, “No. He doesn’t have cancer... just has the flu. That ramp was there when we moved in. The previous owner had a wheelchair. I’m sorry I don’t have any answers for you. I literally saw her just a couple of times my entire life…”
