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Oct 18, 2018

Bequest - Chapter 1

The unmistakable scent of late-summer mornings hung wafting through the heavy theater hallways. Cement foundations and speckled tile floor created sharp echoes as two men found their exit, passing by offices and small classrooms. One of the men lingered, looking back at what had been his home-away-from-home for nearly seven years. The other, older, man curled a stack of papers in his hands, and watched with a bittersweet feeling in his chest.

“You’re sure it’s not too early for you to take off, Tad?” Mr. Sanders asked.

Tad sighed and rubbed his arm. He was still trying to get a good look at the foyer, almost worried he’d forget everything the moment he left.

“It’s taken me too long to build up to this; to where I need to be.” Tad turned back to his mentor. He was scared, but his blue eyes were wide with anticipation. “I’ve had too many setbacks to keep me from from going, especially if I’m getting help.” Tad walked up to Mr. Sanders, fidgeting in his nervous state. “You’re sure about this? I don’t want to take advantage of anyone’s hospitality.”

Mr. Sanders nodded, smiling. “I’ve told you, my brother doesn’t mind. He lives twenty minutes away from the studio he and I used to work at. He’s a marketing executive in retail now, but we both still have old friends in showbiz, and he’s been wanting to get back into the scene as a manager; and he has a spare bedroom for rent. Why do you think I’ve been working so closely with you these past few years? I’ve already passed your name along.” Mr. Sanders handed Tad the bundle of papers. “All they need is a formal audition, your energy, and your passion.”

“What about a job until I find something?” Tad asked, eager to have an answer to any unknown that could come his way. Mr. Sanders chuckled.

“It’s a big place; and you’ve already worked for so long in that mechanic shop, I’m sure you can find quick work out there. Tad, you’re a smart kid; you’re going to be fine either way.” Mr. Sanders’ expression slowly sombered. “What I’m concerned about is if your mother’s going to be fine.”

Tad dragged his fingers through his coppery hair, knowing this concern wasn’t misplaced. “I’m about to go see her, and hopefully the rest of the family. The will’s being read today.”

Mr. Sanders looked at Tad, the wrinkles on his face coded his sympathy. “It’s such a shame about your grandfather. He was a good man.”

Tad didn’t return the sentiment. “He was… he was something.”

Mr. Sanders noted Tad’s distance speaking about his grandfather. He knew why. “He never told you, did he?”

Tad frowned. “No; he said he would, but I guess in the end he just decided not to. I asked him; I begged him to tell me the truth,” Tad shook his head, “he barely gave me a clue. The only revelation that he felt was important was that he didn’t think I was meant to be an actor. I reminded him that as much as I wanted to play football, it’s my fault that Jonah-”

“Tad, that was an accident,” Mr. Sanders said, squeezing Tad’s shoulder as he sensed his student’s frustration.

Tad’s expression tightened. “All I did was tackle him. I forgot. I lost my restraint and-”

“Thaddeus.” Mr. Sanders spoke firmly, breaking Tad out of his memory. “That was a long time ago. Something Jonah has long-since forgiven you for. He even told me at your last show he’s going to miss seeing you perform.”

Tad finally smiled, thankful to hear this. The two men walked to their cars as Mr. Sanders fumbled with his keys; he noticed Tad’s truck bed filled with boxes and secured with cables.

“It begins,” Mr. Sanders smiled. Tad exhaled loudly, and the shudder in his breath was noticable. “The most you can do is try, Tad.”

Tad nodded and prepared to part ways with his teacher, but as Mr. Sanders extended his arms to hug Tad, his water bottle tumbled out of his grip. With a subdued curse they watched it roll under a car several feet away. Mr. Sanders looked at Tad, as though asking and apologizing at the same time for a favor. Tad smiled, eager to help his teacher one last time and he looked around quickly before rushing to the car. As Tad gripped the front fender he showed little strain as he lifted the car up, just enough for Mr. Sanders to scrabble under and reclaim his water bottle. Mr. Sanders quickly backed away and looked at Tad, who didn’t seem at all fazed by holding the vehicle some three feet off of the ground. Tad set the car back onto the pavement with the ease of a falling feather.

“I’m going to miss watching you do that.” Mr. Sanders chuckled. Tad grinned, and he embraced his teacher one last time.

“Thank you for everything. You gave me a purpose,” Tad said, trying not to choke on his emotions.

“No, son. I just pointed you in a direction; you did all the work,” Mr. Sanders assured Tad. The two parted, continuing their goodbyes until they were driving away, waving at each other until they were out of sight.

Tad’s hands were beginning to shake. He wanted to be on the road, to begin his journey. He wanted to be one step closer to being finished with the hard part; he just worried that his departure from his parents would be much harder than saying goodbye to Mr. Sanders.

He drove up to his late-grandfather’s home within the hour and noted the array of other cars that belonged to family members. As he found a parking spot, he turned off his truck and sat for a moment, looking up at the house.

His mother and her siblings had grown up here. It was a place that Tad was never keen on visiting. It incited feelings of resentment and confusion towards his grandfather. The only time those feelings could have been dulled were when his Gram was around, bustling and bursting with enough cheer to power an entire city parade. She had been the glue of the family. Unfortunately, her death just four years earlier had created a rift, and Tad’s mother, aunt and uncle found it harder to visit their father. Tad remembered his Gram fondly, his mother’s stepmother, who had treated Tad no different than her grandchildren-by-blood.

He remembered that evening, late in the afternoon when Tad and his grandfather had returned home from an outing to the park.

The day Tad had learned about his strength.

Gram had seen her husband and grandchild walk to the front door, the older man’s face was streaked with blood. With a horrified squawk, she checked on the boys, yet her husband was nowhere nearly as shaken as Tad, despite his injuries.

“We’re fine, Abigail,” Tad’s grandfather insisted as she herded them into the kitchen.

“Kallistos, what happened? Oh Tad, honey, you’re white as a ghost! In! In!” She retrieved a towel and peroxide, dabbing it to her husband’s temple before he could take a seat. “I thought you were going to the park!”

“We… we did,” Tad answered mousily. “These big guys came out of nowhere!”

Kallistos turned to Abigail as he tried to take control of tending to his own wounds, but she smacked his hand away. “It was four, maybe five thugs.They rattled me; best I’ve ever been hit.”

Tad noticed the way his grandfather spoke. He didn’t seem angry that he’d been inured; it was almost like he was more entertained. The brunt of his concern came about when Tad was relevant to the scenario.

“I thought they were gonna get Tad; but I was able to chase ‘em off,” Kallistos grunted.

Tad was confused. That was a lie. He’d watched one of the assailants strike his grandfather with a metal rod, only to pilfer his wallet and come after Tad; but the six-year-old overpowered the two grown men holding him down and was able to disarm the third holding the rod. As he chased the thugs away, Tad had gripped the rod so hard his little hands had left imprints on the metal. Kallistos was quick to check on Tad, who almost became hysterical from the turn of events; but Kallistos quickly calmed Tad, and even smiled at the boy as he promised an explanation later. “B-but Granddad-”

“Oh my Tad.” Abigail fussed, finally letting Kallistos take over dabbing at his cuts. She wiped her hands on her apron before cupping Tad’s face and kissing his forehead.“I’m so glad you’re safe. I’m going to go start a bath for you, okay honey? Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“O-okay; I’ll be right there,” he said as Abigail bustled off. Tad slid off the chair and looked at his grandfather, confused.

“B-But I stopped them.”

“You did.” Kallistos acknowledged, looking at the blood on the dish towel, almost curiously. “And you did a fine job. But we don’t need to worry her any more,” His gaze turned to Tad out of the corner of his dark eyes.” We’ll talk about it as needed.”

“You said that earlier; when will we-”

“As needed, Thaddeus. Now go wash up. Your mom will be picking you up soon.”

As Tad reluctantly left the kitchen, he worried he would never be told about this sudden influx of strength that had entered his life; and he was right; his grandfather continued that day as though he hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. His parents found out within the week. Tad was helping his mother in her vegetable garden when he came face-to-face with a wasp. Frightened and unable to be coerced into staying still, the six-year-old panicked and tore off a part of their iron-wrought fence just to try and swat the pest. His mother watched, dumbfounded, and life with a rambunctious son turned a bit more hectic as he’d become a mobile wrecking ball. His father joked that they were going to save on medical bills though; he and his wife watched their son in his youth go through his share of trips, bumps and falls without so much as a wince.

As he grew, his strength grew with him, and the painful side-effects of Tad’s strength became a reality when, at the age of thirteen, a game of football sent one of his close friends to the operating room. A tackle from Tad had broken five ribs, one of which had pierced the other boy’s lung. Tad became withdrawn afterwards, and he begged for answers from his grandfather.

None came.

Seeking an outlet, Tad met Mr. Sanders and decided to give theater a try. It had been a Godsend. To learn how to divert his emotions into acting became a form of therapy for him, and Tad was soon taking part in plays in the town theater. His strength gave him the chance to perform a few extra stunts, or fall extra hard when slapstick was involved. Through and after high school, he worked as a mechanic’s apprentice to fund a trip to California. Mr. Sanders, who had worked in film for a short time before his health forced him to move up north, had often invited old colleagues to his plays. Several of them had been eager to help Tad make his mark in the industry; but in the end, Tad worried that if he left too soon, he would never get his answer from his grandfather.

But even after a heated confrontation just six months earlier, his grandfather didn’t budge on answering his question. And that was when Tad finally decided to leave. With his funds secure and a place to stay, he was ready.

And then Kallistos died.

His very last chance was officially gone. Now the only worry he had left was leaving the nest the same week his mother had lost her father.

With a sigh, Tad finally climbed out of his truck and towards the house. The squawl of the screen door announced his entry, and he was immediately fighting the memories associated with the scents and sights in the dusty foyer.

“Hollywood!”

Tad smiled as his cousin Fred bounded towards him from the den, followed closely by his sister Tabitha. Tad eagerly hugged two of his closest friends, relieved to know he would be seeing them one last time. Fred, however, looked at him seriously.

“Dude, your mom’s a mess,” Fred said worriedly.

“I’ve never seen her this bad,” Tabitha seconded.

Tad rubbed his face, feeling guilt swell. “I’ll go check on her. Have they read the will yet?”

“Not yet. They will in the hour, I think,” Tabitha said.

They parted and Tad gave quick greetings to his two other cousins, Sally and Candace, and his aunts and uncles before retreating through the back door. Just past the overgrown lilac bush, he could see his mother and father as they sat on the colorful, wooden yard swing. His mother leaned on his father’s shoulder, gentle words being spoken between them. Tad slowly rounded the bush and tried to smile.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.”

He couldn’t have gotten another word out before his mother was hugging him, all the while his father tried to steady the swing, which wobbled awkwardly from her sudden movment.

“Oh my Tad! I was scared I wouldn’t see you,” Tad heard his mother say. He held her close as his father stood, rubbing his wife’s back.

“I’m not gonna leave without saying good-bye, mom,” Tad said.

They stood embracing for a moment before she pulled away, sniffling and rubbing away dark strands of hair that clung to her tear-stained cheeks. “Y-You said good-bye to Mr. Sanders?”

“Yeah. He gave me his brother’s address. I’ll be staying there til I get on my feet,” Tad smiled. His mother tried to do the same. Tad watched as his father gently touched his wife’s shoulder.

“Hon; sit down,” he almost begged.

“I’m fine-” she retorted, placing her attention on Tad’s shirt. Tad watched as her shaking, bony hands fiddled with a button, and he noticed how pale she looked.

“Mom, have you eaten today?”

“I’m said I’m fine.” But this declaration was tinged with a warbling voice, and her lips quivered as she fought more tears. Tad looked up helplessly at his father, who sighed and gently squeezed his wife’s shoulder.

“I’m going inside. I’m getting you some food,” he insisted. She didn’t look at him.

“I don’t want it,” she answered, almost childishly. Tad’s father shook his head, brushing her curls back behind her ears.

“Well that’s too bad because I’ll be damned if I have to watch you pass out before noon. Tad, have a seat with her?”

Tad nodded to his father and directed his mother to the swing. They sat down, and Tad’s rough hand was soon held by his mother’s small, clammy hand; her fingers interlaced with his. She leaned against him, and Tad nuzzled against her black hair.

“You’ll call me when you get there?” She asked. Tad squeezed her hand gently.

“You know I will,” he reassured her. They sat together, listening to the mourning doves coo and the crickets chirp. “I’ll come back to visit now and then. I don’t know if I’ll be home around the holidays; but I’ll try to pull some strings.”

“We’ll be fine. I’m sorry I’m such a mess right now,” his mother sighed, still holding his hand. “Dad… Granddad and I weren’t close. But… but I always wanted to have a good relationship with him. He was just too harsh, and he didn’t like your dad; so that was strike one.”

“I never understood that; why didn’t he?” Tad asked, still confused about the age-old mystery of why Kallistos had abhorred Tad’s father. Tad’s mother clicked her tongue.

“Because if your granddad had had his way, I would have been a spinster. That was strike two. He wanted me locked up and safe; but by all means your aunt Carol could go to all the sock hops she wanted. Apparently what happened to my mother was so traumatic, he didn’t want to see me hurt.”

Tad remained confused. “But what did happen to her?”

His mother shrugged once more. “He never told me. I’ve never even seen pictures of her. Gram never knew her, but she knew about her. She was always mum about the subject; but she was more of a parent to me than your granddad was. Funny how that works, huh?”

Tad smiled, knowing how she felt. His mother leaned into him, and he rocked the swing slightly, enough to catch the winds picking up the scent of the lilac bush.

“So… what was strike three that kept you and granddad apart?” Tad asked.

His mother squeezed his hand a bit harder this time. “He treated you differently.”

Tad listened to this and felt a swell of emotion. He glanced down at his mother as she peered out into the yard; and she confirmed everything Tad had ever felt towards his grandfather.

“He never hesitated doing anything for your cousins. He joked around with them, played games. But with you; I never saw him act like that with you. He was so serious all the time; he treated you like a stranger. I don’t doubt that it was because he doesn’t… didn’t like your father. But I kept… I kept trying to find common ground with him; and I’m sorry I put you through all of that, Tad; I’m so sorry.”

“Mom it’s okay-”

“No, it’s not,” she insisted. She sniffled, her fingers almost inspecting her son’s hand now to distract her.

Tad let her trace his work-worn hand, and he prodded his nose against her temple.

“Yeah, but you know what?”

“What?” She sniffled back. Tad rested his chin on the top of her head.

“I still forgive you.”

Tad listened to her release a sob as she rested her head back on his shoulder. She looked up at him, her green eyes teary and swollen, but smiling.

“Besides the trouble we had with Grandad; I wouldn’t change a thing we’ve had. Our family, where we are. I’ve been where I needed to be all my life. I just hope where I’m going next will be the same.”

“It will be.”

Tad and his mother looked to find his father rounding the lilac bush, holding a plate of food. He smiled to them. “You’re gonna be fine, Tad. And you know you’re always welcome back home if it doesn’t work out.”

Smiling, Tad nodded. “Thanks.”

Tad watched as his father offered the plate of food to his mother. “Here, eat. You need to get something in your system.”

Pouting, Tad’s mother smirked as she reluctantly accepted the plate. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I didn’t get between your brother and that potato salad for you to be a big baby, woman,” Tad’s father grinned, sitting next to him. Tad sat in-beween his parents, both nervous to leave and nervous to stay too long; but he was content to stay with his parents just a little while longer, at least until he was sure his mother was going to be fine. She nibbled at a few vegetables on the plate, but insisted that Tad finish off the rest, wanting to be sure he was fed before his trip.

“Filippa?”

The trio jumped as Tad’s aunt Carol found them; she smiled wearily at her older half-sister. “They’re about to read the will,” she said. Tad’s mother sighed and slowly stood, looking back at her husband and son.

Tad’s father shrugged. “I’ll go with ya if you want,” he said, getting ready to stand, but his wife shook her head.

“You can stay out here; I know you’ve been wanting some downtime lately. Tad, are you coming?”

Tad sighed. “I doubt he left me anything.”

“He did,” Carol smiled. “Everyone was left something.”

Tad looked at his father, still reluctant to go; but he stood, deciding to give his mother his company.

“I’ll be out here if you need me,” Tad’s father said, watching them head inside. They made their way up the stairs into what used to be Kallistos’ study. Tad looked around, feeling his stomach squirm. He had been in this room those six months ago when he saw his grandfather for the last time. He could see the crater in the desk that he’d made in his fury as he was denied answers once again; denied the answers he’d been promised some fifteen years earlier. Tad broke away from the memory and smiled at his cousins before sitting in a folding chair next to his mother. The lawyers sorted papers and items before beginning.

Tad’s mother was called first; the eldest of the children. She was bequeathed a portion of her father’s savings while the other half was given to Carol. The house was to be given to Tad’s uncle Max, the third and youngest of Kallistos’ children.

Tad’s cousin, Sally, the oldest of the next generation, was bequeathed the art collection left behind by Gram; Fred was given his grandfather’s jewelry, such as handsome cufflinks and pocket watches, but a specific piece was saved for his sister: Tabitha inherited their grandparents’ wedding rings, with a note from Kallistos blessing her recent engagement. Tad looked to his mother, who smiled tautly, but still offered a warm expression towards her niece. Tad listened as his cousin Sally was bequeathed their grandfather’s entire library; which left Tad wondering what he’d been left.

“To Thaddeus Graham Irving,” the lawyer started; “my gift is to be given in private.”

Tad heard the creak of chairs as the family turned to look at him, as confused as he was. He looked at his mother, and she nodded for him to follow the lawyer. Feeling his family’s eyes on him as he exited the room, he was led down the hallway to one of the abandoned guest rooms. This room held unwanted memories. It was the room he’d stayed in the only time he’d ever spent the night in this house; the night his mother suffered a miscarriage, and a five-year-old Tad was taken to this house by his panicking father. Tad snarled, feeling as though Kallistos was spiting him, even in death. Upon entering the room, Tad saw a large, arced object, covered by a tarp. He stared at it, hesitating. It was taller than he was; but noticably thin. He turned to the lawyer, who nodded for him to take a look.

Tad approached the tarp, and with a quick, shaking hand, he swept it off, and he began to splutter as an array of paint chips showered him. He backed away from the dusting of pale green paint before he finally laid eyes on his inheritance.

The wood was just faintly rotting, the frame appeared to be weak and giving way while the bronze handle and hinges were rusting.

It was a door.

An ancient, crumbling door.

Tad stared, his jaw going slack as his face reddened. He turned to the lawyer, who seemed to be shaking.

“Is… is this for real?” Tad hissed. The lawyer gulped, pulling a picture from his clipboard to show Tad.

“I’m afraid so, sir. There’s one other thing as well,” he said, removing another item; he handed an envelope to Tad, and on it was his name scrawled in his grandfather’s writing. Tad reached out, taking the letter.

“Wh-what is it?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, sir. Perhaps an explanation of sorts?”

Explanation? What did Kallistos know about explaining anything? Tad felt his fury rising; he wanted to destroy the letter; to take it and this rotting junk and burn it.

“I’ll; I’ll leave you be, sir.”

Tad listened as the lawyer left. He stood there, in this damned room, looking at his joke of an inheritance. He backed away, sitting on the dusty bed. He tried to gather his thoughts, and he buried his face in his hands, unsure of what to think.

“Tad?”

Tad jumped as he heard his mother’s voice. He looked at the door and quickly replaced the tarp, not wanting her to see what he’d been left; he knew it would upset her further. He finally opened the door to the room, finding his mother on the other side, still emotional, but she smiled at him.

“What did he leave you?” She asked, walking inside. She was taken back by the large object, and Tad reluctantly conjured a lie.

“A mirror. He left me some old mirror. For my 'future dressing room’. Looks like it’s been in storage for a long time; but… it- it’s nice,” Tad smirked weakly.

“Are you serious?” His mother responded. She looked at Tad, and he shrugged.

“Hey; could have been worse. I mean; I thought he didn’t want me to go into acting, but… but maybe he was okay with it after a while.”

Tad dug into his own personal hope as an excuse. He looked at his mother, wondering if she even bought the lie. She looked at the tarp, and smiled up at him.

“Better late than never, I suppose,” she said, rubbing his back. “Right?”

Tad nodded back. “Better late than never.”

It wasn’t long until Tad was hauling his inheritance out to his truck, making sure it remained completely wrapped in its tarp to prevent anyone from seeing what his gift had truly been. He began securing it along with his boxes just as his parents joined him. His father started helping as he sorted boxes to get the large object to fit, and his mother climbed inside to place a paper plate of food on the passenger’s side seat. She watched her boys finish the packing adjustments, and her heart sank a little when her husband announced 'all set’.

Tad smiled as his father gently clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You take care of yourself, son. Break a leg; or whatever you guys say.”

Tad grinned, hugging his father tightly. “I’m gonna miss you,” Tad said, now beginning to shake again.

“You’re gonna do just fine,” his father reassured him. He and Tad parted as Tad looked to his mother. She smiled through her quivering lips at her only child. She embraced him, stroking his rusty curls as she fought her emotions.

“I love you, mom. I’m gonna see you real soon, okay?” Tad promised, hearing his mother sniffle. She held on tight, not ready to let go, but she knew she couldn’t make him stay any longer.

“I’m so proud of you; no matter what happens,” she whispered, kissing his cheek. “Just… take care of yourself, okay?”

Tad smiled. “I will, so long as you do the same.”

She squeezed his hand, looking at him for as long as she could. “Drive safe.”

Nodding, Tad looked back to his father. They clasped hands warmly before Tad kissed the top of his mother’s head. With one last hug, he climbed into his truck.

“Thank you; for everything.” Tad smiled, wiping his eyes. He watched his father wrap an arm around his mother, gently holding her close as Tad started up his truck. “I’ll call you soon!”

With a final wave from his parents, he barely registered pulling out of the lot and onto the road. He watched them from his mirrors, waving to him as he honked back. With a shuddering breath, he tried to dry his eyes with his already tear-stained hand, and he looked out to the roads as he quickly arrived at the exit to the interstate.

He looked back to his trunk bed, making sure that everything was still secure, and his eyes landed on his inheritance. He sighed, knowing he was stuck with it, and was now having to come up with an excuse for Mr. Sanders’ brother as to why he was packing a rotted door with his belongings.

But he didn’t linger on the thought. He looked over at the plate of food his mother had left for him. Taking a bite out of a deviled egg, he couldn’t help but smile. Even after the worry, the anger, the sadness; Tad looked ahead to the sprawling highway, knowing he was on his way to the next chapter of his life, and he greeted what may come with open arms.

#Bequest #writeblr #will be fantasy #I wouldn't be surprised if anyone's sick of seeing this I'm just trying to get my footing #then again I've been posting these chapters for a while so #my apologies

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