The sun was starting to set while Davis waited for his ride. He was seated on a bench at the outskirts of a small community park. He maintained his focus on his phone to avoid interactions with any other neighbors. A younger person may actually recognize him. It took 22 minutes, but the car arrived. He shuffled into the backseat and the car left. He didn’t care to take one last look at his childhood neighborhood as the car found its way out and onto the freeway.
Sitting in the car, Davis recalled his father’s passing. When his mother died, he didn’t find out for a few weeks—not that it would have mattered. When his father died shortly thereafter, though, there was an estate to settle. His parents had either left Davis in their will by accident, on purpose, or possibly added him before the end. He guessed he was left in there. Adding him likely would have signalled an intent to reconnect. That certainly never happened.
Either way, a call from their estate lawyer caught Davis off guard. The news of his father’s death evoked similar sympathies as his mother’s: disappointment. There was little else he could muster after so many years of feeling abandoned. Whether they lived another 20 years or not, his life was not changing. He had a practical view of death in that a lot of the sadness was for the people they leave behind. He had no regrets, so he bore no sorrow. The apathy to the situation made him feel guilty for some time, but he was able to rationalize away the guilt.
The day the call from the lawyer came in was shocking. He hadn’t anticipated being on the grid enough to be found. To be told of an inheritance by his estranged parents was a lot to take in. He was left one-fourth ownership of their house, the house he was on his way to see, and some money. The lawyer was briefed on the situation. He anticipated Davis' reluctance and assured him that he did not need to return to Seattle. Ownership of the house required no action and the money could be wired to him. Everything would be held in a trust until the paperwork was complete.
This discussion did not sit well with Davis. He felt uneasy about accepting any inheritance. Was quarter ownership of a house and about $12,000 buying forgiveness or an oversight? If deliberate, was this an attempt to acknowledge his existence after all these years? He feigned emotion with the lawyer. “This… this is a lot to process,” he said with fake concern. He asked if they could complete this conversation at another time. The lawyer acquiesced and he hung up his flip phone. These cheaper “burner” phones were a staple of the first few years after his release. He immediately snapped the phone in half and threw it in the garbage. He bought a new phone that afternoon.
The money remained in the trust.
Davis looked at his new fancy phone as he remembered destroying one of its predecessors. He had begun enjoying the creature comforts of rapidly advancing phone technology. He hoped he wouldn’t have the need to ditch this one. To that end, he started screening all unknown numbers. He also made a very generic outgoing voicemail message. It also helped that a quarter of all calls were wrong numbers.
There were a few consecutive turns and the car slowed down. He recognized they were entering a residential neighborhood. He looked out the window curiously as they approached their destination.
He once again gave an address at the end of the block. This time to offer time to mentally prepare. He knew the house hadn’t been sold, otherwise, another lawyer would’ve tracked him down for a signature.
He thanked his driver and exited the car. Looking at the map on his phone, he saw he needed to cross the intersection to get to the correct block. He started on his way. This neighborhood was very different to the one that he’d grown up in. There were more houses, older and closer together. It was still a nice block, but looked less upper and more middle class than the old house. He kept glancing at the address and guessed it would be visible after the hedge up ahead. As he neared the shrub, he paused and took a deep breath.
Before he could step into view of the house, a car pulled up. An older man stepped out and rounded onto the sidewalk at a leisurely pace. He fastened the button of his blazer as he surveyed the house. Davis snapped out of a trance and realized there were a lot of cars parked by the house. This man, who looked familiar, was one of several people approaching the house, some with gifts in hand.
The familiar man looked at Davis and paused. He was tall, slender and looked to be in his early 60s. He was clean-shaven with round, wire glasses. His bald head was surrounded by a crown of salt and pepper hair. He had Davis’ mother’s eyes and he started to recognize his uncle Lyle. Lyle had hair and was about 30 pounds heavier 13 years ago, but the piercing stare he offered Davis was familiar. The older man squinted at his long-lost nephew and spoke.
“Derrick? Did you shave your beard? I thought you were in the hospital.”
Lyle started to approach.
Davis stood frozen on the spot and stared at his uncle. He started to slowly back away, turned and briskly walked away.
Lyle looked at the house, saw no one noticing him, and followed the familiar young man out of sight of the house. He was gaining on his target and, when he was within 10 feet, shouted at a whisper.
“Deuce! Stop. What are you doing?”
Davis froze at his childhood nickname. His head sunk. He hadn’t heard it in forever. Kids at the detention center would call him that to rile him up, but he never took the bait. It faded and was seemingly lost to the recesses of memory. He sighed and dropped his shoulders in defeat. With anxious tension rising in him, he turned to face his mother’s brother.
“I’m sorry. Seeing you here is a bit of a shock. How are you?” asked Lyle.
Davis looked him in the eye but was at a loss for words. The expression on his face conveyed as much.
“How are you, son?” offered Lyle sympathetically.
“Fine,” Davis choked out. “I…” he tried to continue but was at a loss for words. He glanced at the house.
Lyle looked over his shoulder and started to do some mental math to figure out the situation.
“I assume you are here for the wedding or for Derrick or for both?” he asked.
Davis nodded and found his voice.
“Jenna found me and called. She invited me to the wedding. I wasn’t, I didn’t come here today expecting people to be here. I was just seeing,” he paused nervously, “I wanted to see the house.”
Lyle looked at his nephew with a look of shame on his face. This young man was made to be a pariah among his family and now had no place in a celebration of his sister’s wedding.
“Yeah, it’s for the rehearsal dinner. A.J. and Roland invited everyone over for a get-together,” Lyle said.
He looked over his shoulder again.
“I’m sorry. You’re probably right to not want to go in, but…” he didn’t know where he was going with this thought. “Have you seen anyone? Do you want to see anyone?”
Davis shook his head "no."
“Maybe," Lyle paused, gave some thought and continue. "Have you met Roland? He might be the right person to talk to about this. If I get him, will you wait here and talk to him?”
Davis took a deep breath and considered the proposal. He’d never met his brother-in-law, only seeing pictures when Davis looked up his family on Facebook. As he didn’t have an account, he was unable to see much, but Roland seemed nice.
“I’m…” he started to say while looking around the neighborhood. “I’m going to sit down for a bit. I’ll be over at that bus stop,” he added, gesturing to an adjacent corner. “If Roland wants to talk, I’ll hang out for a bit. If not, I’ll get an Uber and head back to my hotel.”
Lyle offered a sympathetic smile and said he’d go and get Roland. He turned back to the house, but quickly pivoted back to face Davis, who’d just started to turn himself.
“Deuce?” the uncle said. Davis turned back and Lyle walked over to his nephew and gave him a hug.
“I’m sorry, kid. You deserved better,” he said quietly in his ear, finishing with, “from all of us.”
He let go of the embrace and briskly walked back to the house. His hands were in his pockets and he focused on the ground in front of him. This obscured his somber, determined expression from other attendees at the party.
Davis was taken aback and a little emotional. His eyes watered as he watched his uncle walk away. When he’d disappeared around the hedge, Davis turned and headed toward the bus stop. The bench was a welcome sight, as he was drained by a sudden rush of emotion. He sat down and rested his face in his hands to process what had happened.
After a couple of minutes, he reached for his phone to call for a car. He was oblivious to a well-dressed Black man navigating the intersection at a brisk pace. Roland waved and smiled at neighbors and cars that slowed for him to cross. He reached the bus stop and came to a stop next to the bench. He looked down at Davis with a bemused smile on his face.
“Deuce?”
Davis looked up at the man, instantly recognizing him from A.J.’s social media account. He was quite fit in person, Davis noticed. Roland was dressed business casual with slim-fitting everything. His salmon button-up shirt had the sleeves rolled up and an extra button was undone.
He didn’t intend to be cold in response, but it happened before he could think.
“Actually, it’s ‘Davis,’” he responded, standing and extending a hand.
Roland shook his head with an amused smile as he continued to take in the sight. He met the outstretched hand with his own. His eyes drifted to different features as he talked.
“You look so much like Derrick, but so different at the same time.”
Davis didn’t know what to say, so he remained silent. Instead, he focused his effort on softening his glance.
Roland was unable to hide a smile. He managed to reign in some enthusiasm as he formally introduced himself.
“So, I’m Roland, your, brother-in-law.”
“Nice to meet you,” Davis said, finally succeeding in some warmth with a slight smile.
“Lyle told me you were here, and I couldn’t believe it. I’m glad you came into town for the wedding, and I understand why you may not be interested in coming to the house.”
Davis was unable to stifle the look of cynicism that washed over his face at the mention of the wedding. They both knew why he was invited into town, and it surely wasn’t the wedding.
“I felt like I had to. I appreciate Jenna inviting me to the wedding. This is all a lot to process.”
Roland took a seat and adopted a more serious demeanor.
“Hey, I just met you. I know some of what you’ve been through with this family and I’m not going to pretend that I understand. He’s my husband, but I know A.J.’s assessment of the situation is pretty subjective.”
Davis was drawn in by the straight talk and started to let his guard down. He sat beside his brother-in-law as Roland continued.
“This is my family. You’re here and that’s what’s important. As far as I’m concerned, you’re making my sister happy and saving my brother’s life. Regardless of how you’ve been judged in the past, I appreciate what you’re doing.”
The earnestness of what Roland said caught Davis off-guard. He expected any man that would marry his brother would share his harsh perspective. There would also be a healthy amount of contempt for him.
“Thanks,” said Davis. After a long pause, he asked, “Why did Lyle send you?”
They both knew the answer.
A.J.’s resentment for Davis was never a secret. They had similar personalities, though it was the similarities that saw them butt heads a lot as kids. Strong-willed, protective and quiet leaders. As the older brother, A.J. relished his leadership role. Davis liked to play the reluctant lead—stepping up when the situation dictated it.
Had they continued growing up together, they may have become the closest of the siblings. Unfortunately, Davis’ arrest came at the worst time. A.J. had not come out yet, but was getting past a confusing and difficult time in his life with his sexuality. Davis was trying to find his place away from his twin. The schoolyard scraps were also a source of tension in the household.
When Tim died, A.J. found the leap to his brother being guilty to be an easy one. It was in Deuce’s nature, of course, to seek Tim out after he'd hit him earlier in the day. An unfortunate accident, yes, but was likely to happen sooner or later. The fallout didn’t help either, as A.J. was taken from a life that he had just started to feel himself in. This caused a good amount of resentment at first.
A.J. did not attend any of the trial. This was a bridge too far for Davis, who fostered his own resentment.
Davis and Roland sat in silence for a while until a light chime emanated from Roland’s pocket. He checked his phone.
“I should be getting back,” he said, reaching into his pocket to replace his phone and pull out a business card.
“Here’s my cell number if you need anything.”
He extended the card to Davis, who took it as the two men stood.
“Thanks,” Davis said, extending his hand.
Roland took his hand with a smile. Then he stared deep into Davis’ eyes. There was an odd warm intensity he understood as genuine appreciation.
“Thank you. I mean it,” Roland said.
Davis instinctively smiled. He then watched as his brother-in-law deftly navigated the intersection once again. He watched him all the way back to the house, including a brief stopover to greet a small dog and its owner.
Davis then sat back down and pulled out his phone again to find a ride back to the hotel.