Chapter 1
One thing I've learned from this life is that you can't take anything for granted.
I open the car door and step out. I'm here at my stepbrother's house. He's old as fuck. Just kidding... he's only older than me. He's 42, and I'm 36. We were really close. My mom married his dad, and we were like two peas in a pod. But then I moved away. I stopped seeing everyone, unfortunately...
"Hey!" Damien walks out of the house. "Look what the cat dragged in!"
I chuckle as he walks over and wraps his arms around me. I hug him a little tighter than I normally would before he pulls back and places a hand on my head.
"I'm glad you're back, kid."
"Heh... damn right I'm back. And you ain't getting rid of me that easily. Speaking of kids, where's Dylan and Zoe?" I ask, looking around.
Dylan is Damien's twenty-year-old son, and Zoe is seven. I don't know how or why this man decided to space his kids out so far apart, but it couldn't be me.
"Well, Zoe's in the house, and..." He pauses.
I study him for a moment as he shakes his head and presses his lips together.
"Dylan's in prison..."
"He's in what?!" I cut him off. "Not Dylan... Dylan Adams? Your kid?" I ramble as Damien slowly nods. "What happened?"
"Arson. Him and those little punks he was hanging around with set an abandoned building on fire. Well... he's got two years in prison," Damien tells me.
I nod slowly. I don't know if I have two years.
I glance down at my watch.
"Bet. I'ma head down to the courthouse real quick. Austin McGraw still a judge there?" I ask, looking back up at Damien.
"Heh... yeah, but there's nothing you can do about it, Brian. The boy's in way over his head. He can't be helped."
"Well, that may be so, but Austin still owes me a favor. I'll be back."
I open the car door and climb inside.
Two things could happen. Austin might tell me that paying his rent that one time isn't enough for him to get my step-nephew out... or he might do me a solid and help the kid.
I guess we'll find out.
_____
"Brian?"
I stand in the courthouse waiting room—or whatever the hell you call this place. I glance over my shoulder to see Austin walking in, looking all holier than thou in his judge's robe. He stares at me in disbelief. Yeah, it's been a hot minute.
"Austin, man, how are you?" I smile as he walks over, holds out his hand, and I shake it.
"Still got that working-man handshake," he says with a smile.
I used to work on Damien's dad's farm. Like Dylan, I was bad as fuck. But the thing is, I was naturally bad. Dylan wasn't like that. I remember him being a really good kid. So now I need to figure out what happened...
"Yeah, well, you know what they say. You can take the man off the farm and shit... Anyways, where the hell is my nephew?" I look around.
I know he's not here. He's at the prison. But this is me hinting to Austin that I'm not here for a casual visit.
"Hmph." Austin crosses his arms. "Dylan Adams? He's where he needs to be. Locked away from society."
"Watch it now... You remember my outlaw days. Way back when prices made sense." I grin. "I need a favor..."
"Absolutely not. That kid is a menace to society, Brian. He and his little friends set an abandoned building on fire!" Austin says.
I nod absentmindedly. "Hey... it could've been worse. It could've been occupied. Now listen, before you go saying no and shit, I'll look after him. I'll get him on the right track."
Austin studies me for a moment before letting out a long breath. I already know I'm gonna need a silver tongue for this one.
"I gave him two years. That's not that long. And you're awesome, Brian. You know I have a lot of respect for you... but I can't let him go under the impression that you're going to play mentor. I'm sorry. But it was nice seeing you."
He turns around.
"Now wait a damn minute. Come on, Austin. Two years? Especially when you've got someone right here who's gonna make sure he becomes a productive member of society. You know what happens to these kids when they go to prison. Their lives are practically over."
He slowly nods. "I know, but I do have a job to do..."
I place my hand on his shoulder. "And I was broke when I paid your rent. Did I complain? I was starving..."
"Brian..." he warns.
"I was sleeping in my car, trying to save up money..."
"That's not true," he cuts me off.
"If you use your imagination, it is." I smirk.
He chuckles, dragging his fingers across his lips before pausing to think for a moment. He glances up at me before finally speaking.
"I'll give you one chance. But if he ends up in my courtroom again, you'll be standing with him."
I smile.
He tells me I can pick Dylan up next week. Apparently, there's a whole process you have to go through.
"Thank you, Austin." I shake his hand.
"No problem. So we're even for the whole rent thing?" he asks.
I nod. Yep. We're pretty solid now.
"Even Steven."
I let go of his hand.
Austin smiles.
"Glad you're back."
Yeah, there's a few things I've learned in this life... Never settle with the first no, and always make sure you try to do right by folks. Sometimes it doesn't come back right away. Hell, Austin and I were only 19 years old when I helped him out. It's been ten-plus years, but a lot of the time, what you put out there does come back around.
I park outside Damien's house, happy that I have some good news for him.
I step out of the car.
My stepbrother has lived in this house for years. I remember when Dylan was born. I was only 16. And when that little punk was 8, I was 24.
I pause in the driveway when the door opens, and I see a younger Dylan. He races through the doorway.
"Uncle Brian!"
He runs down the driveway, and I stretch out my hands. But before he reaches me, the memory disappears.
Memories...
They say you can't take anything to the grave with you, but that's the one thing I truly believe you can take with you. Or, at the very least, the people you leave behind will have something to prove that you existed.
I look up when the door opens, and Ava races outside. Her little ponytail swings around as she runs toward me.
"Uncle Brian!"
I reach out and grab her, settling her on my hip.
"Hey, sweetie. God, you've gotten so big!"
"I'm 8 now, Uncle Brian! Where's my birthday present? And my Christmas present, and—"
"Haha! Damn, girl, you're trying to break me, ain't you? Hm."
I set her down and pull out my wallet. I grab a $100 bill and hand it to her.
"There you go..."
"Ahhhhhh! I have a dollar!" Zoe jumps around.
"Well... actually..." I start, but Damien walks out, and Zoe runs over to him, holding up the money.
"Look, Daddy! I have this much! One whole dollar!" Zoe waves the money around.
Damien frowns.
"That's $100..."
"Yay, yay, yay! I'm rich!" Zoe dances around.
"Haha... well, I guess you are."
Damien looks up at me and shakes his head.
"That's a lot of money for an 8-year-old. As you can see, she would've been happy with less."
That may be true, but like I said, I can't take anything to the grave with me.
But Zoe? She's going to remember that time Uncle Brian gave her a $100 bill and she thought she was rich. Especially when she gets older and realizes $100 ain't that much.
"Yeah, it's all good," I tell him as I walk over, and he lets me into the house.
"Good news and bad news! Which one do you want first?"
We walk into the living room as Tina walks in. That's Damien's wife.
"As the heavens open and the gates of hell close, Brian!"
She races over to me and wraps her arms around me.
"Oh my goodness... we never thought we'd see you in town again!"
She pulls back and stares at me.
"You know what? I didn't either. I told myself that when I left, I wouldn't come back. But it's funny what life throws at you."
I smile before turning to look at Damien.
"So what will it be? Good news first? Bad news first?"
Damien thinks for a moment.
"Good news first, and then the bad news."
"Alright!" I clap my hands together. "The good news is that I was able to talk to Austin, and he said I could pick Dylan up next week!"
"No way!" Damien gasps.
"Oh my God!" Tina places a hand over her chest before hugging Damien.
I can't imagine the relief they feel. They're a really good family with strong morals, and they adore their kids. Which is why I can't understand how Dylan fell off the rails the way he did.
"I can't believe it... Thank you so much, Brian! I can't believe my baby is coming home. When I tell you that God works miracles... this is a miracle!"
Tina gives me another hug before stepping back next to Damien.
"I'd say..." Damien nods his head. "Especially because Austin's a hard ass. He must have owed you one hell of a favor. Alright, then... what's the bad news?"
"I'm dying."
I come right out and say it.
"Haha..."
They both chuckle.
"Come on, man... be serious. What's the bad news?" Damien smiles, placing his hand on his hip.
I stare at them.
Damien studies me, still smiling, before his expression slowly fades. Tina lowers herself onto the couch and covers her mouth with her hand.
"Wait..." Damien shifts his weight, his eyes glued to mine. "A-are you serious? But... I don't... I don't understand. You're only 36."
I place my hands behind my head and stretch.
"Well, turns out death doesn't have an age limit. Anyways, I've been to specialists, looking for someone who would tell me everyone else was wrong, but..." I pause. "I have congestive heart failure."
I shrug.
"But you know what? I don't want anyone to be sad. So don't tell the kids or anything, alright? I want to be treated like I have 36 more years on this earth."
Damien stays quiet as he stares off into space, and Tina wipes underneath her eyes.
There's no point dwelling on any of this. Hell, I could walk across the street tomorrow, look both ways, and get hit by a plane. The difference between then and now is that I know my timeline is coming to an end. Everyone else is just guessing.
"We won't say anything..." Damien finally says. "Is that why you came home?"
"Well, that and I missed the hot wings down here..." I chuckle, but then pause. "But yeah. You know, I want to make more memories and actually be present in life. So..."
I smile.
"I'm home."
I found an apartment and everything. So... but for the most part, I really am happy to be home.
"Whatever you need, Brian, we're here to help you."
Damien places a hand on my shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.
I give him a quick hug before pulling away.
"Alright, enough of that sad shit! I'm going to go play with Zoe!"
I salute before walking off.
_____
I have to sign a bunch of paperwork at the prison and show my ID. I don't know how long it takes to get a prisoner out of a cell, but apparently, it takes an hour and a half.
But finally...
Dylan comes walking through the door.
He's wearing actual clothes. I kind of thought he would be wearing his jumpsuit or something, but these must be the clothes he was arrested in.
Poor kid... he looks like a hot mess.
His hair hangs in his eyes, and it looks like someone doodled all over his face. This is how you know he went down a bad road. He let someone turn him into a coloring book... all over his face, his knuckles, and it doesn't even match his personality.
He can't be more than 160 pounds. 5'10, small fry...
What the hell?
But it's not my place to judge.
I think to myself after I practically judged him.
His eyes land on mine.
"Uncle Bri—"
He nearly trips as he races over to me.
I grab him and wrap my arms around him.
"W-what are you doing here?" he asks.
"I should be asking you the same thing, punk. What the hell are you doing here?"
I pull back and stare at him.
It feels like a Halloween costume.
This kid... who's dressing up as someone else.
This ain't him.
So why is he pretending?
"I was just doing things. It doesn't matter—" he starts, but I cut him off.
"Yes, the hell it does matter. You can't just—"
"Actually, if you're just going to lecture me, I'm going to go back."
He motions his thumb over his shoulder.
"Boy..."
I grab the back of his shirt and lead him out of the prison. I let him go once we get outside.
"What are you doing here, seriously?" he asks, looking over at me.
We head toward my car.
"Well, I just wanted to come and visit everyone, you know?" I look over at him. "Actually, I just moved here. I got an apartment and everything. Wanna help me move in?"
He shrugs.
"Sure."
I pause, causing him to notice and stop walking too.
"What the hell happened, Dylan?"
I motion my hand over him.
He looks away from me, his jaw clenching.
"You know... I just don't care about my life anymore. I don't want to be the good kid. I don't want the life everyone else has. Work a nine-to-five job where I'll work for the government until I die. They won't even know I worked hard, and they won't care if I die. So I wanna do what I wanna do."
Well...
At least he was honest.
"Welp..."
I throw my arm around him and grin.
"That gravy train is over now, little punk, because you're gonna do what I want you to do."
"What?!" he snaps.
"And I want you to get your ass in the car."
I open the passenger door and push his little ass inside.
"Hey!" he snaps, falling into the passenger seat.
Don't care about his life?
My ass.
He'll care by the time I'm done with him.
