Henry's Inheritance

"Hi, I'm Andy." He said holding out his hand.

Henry ignored him, directing his attention instead to the white Subaru in the driveway. It was his sister's car. Her husband, Stan, and their eldest, Rodney, were already hard at work emptying the back of it. Removing a series of cardboard boxes and restacking them onto the grass. It was like salt in the wound, the fact that they hadn't bothered to come to the front door first.

"Where's Janet?" Henry called out to Stan.

"The girls have gymnastics this weekend." Stan called back. As if that explained everything. Henry shifted his grip on the front door, fighting the urge to slam it shut, before looking back to his surprise inheritance.

Andy now appeared to be trying to remove the skin from a broken blister off of his palm with his teeth. Looking up at Henry, he dropped his hand from his lips and smiled the type of excitable smile reserved for small children and salesmen.

"Hi, I'm Andy." His hand darting back into the empty space between them.

Henry looked him over. The greasy mop atop his head appeared unwashed. His oversized t-shirt, stained with what looked like the remnants of lunch, made him seem even smaller. Still Henry couldn't help searching his features for something he might recognize. Something that might resemble their father.

When Janet and Henry's dad had decided to trade his family in for a new one with his then secretary, Cynthia, Henry was still in college and had opted to pretend his father had died. When Janet had decided to forgive and include her father and his new wife, (who happened to be a year younger than her), in her kids lives, Henry stayed out of it. And when their father began fading away five years ago and Janet begged Henry to see him and make peace, he ignored her.

So when Cynthia dropped dead of an aneurism two weeks ago it was quite the shock. But not quite as shocking as the fact that Henry turned out to be the sole beneficiary in the will. The lawyers told Henry he was to receive twenty thousand dollars in return for managing all that remained of his father's holdings. Named executor of the Gorman estate, Henry was now responsible for deciding the fate of two condos, their banks accounts, a large amount of stock, and Cynthia's 2015 Lexis. As well as being assigned legal guardianship of one Andy Gorman.

Henry didn't want any of it. He had tried to tell Janet this. Either he had done a poor job of explaining or grief had twisted her reception of it. One way or another there was a painful division between them. Henry blamed his father. It seemed the one thing his dad had been good at was leaving a mess for Henry to take care of.

"Hey Uncle Henry, where do you want me to put this?" Rodney now stood before him hugging a large cardboard box.

"Hi, I'm Andy." Andy stuck out his hand in Rodney's direction. Shifting the box in his arms awkwardly onto his hip, Rodney smiled with the practiced patience of someone with four younger siblings, and reached out his hand.

"Hey Andy. Good to see ya." Rodney said shaking Andy's hand as if they hadn't just been in the car together for over two hours. "I got something for you." He added, before reaching to pull something out of his back pocket.

"My book!" Andy squealed in a kind of territorial delight as Rodney handed the worn black notebook over.

Henry directed them to the small guest room and before long Andy's belongings were brought in, unpacked, and stored away in his temporary new room. The whole time Andy just stood to the side watching as they decided where everything should go. His arms wrapped tightly around his middle with his book pressed against his chest, like a strange little priest clutching his bible. When they had finished Stan asked if Rodney could put the TV on for Andy and go wait for him in the car.

Stan and Henry stood uncomfortably before the front door until they heard the sound of the Subaru passenger door shut.

"Janet should have come with." Stan began.

"Grief is weird." Henry cut him off. People skills had never been one of Henry's strong suits and instinct told him this conversation was the type he wouldn't do well in.

"Yeah." Stan nodded. "He might have trouble." He said tilting his head toward the direction of the room where Andy was. "I don't know what he remembers or understands, but he was alone with her for two days before they found her." Stan shook his head as if trying to remove the mental image from his mind. "That has to be traumatizing."

Henry wondered if Stan was trying to evoke his pity. If his brother-in-law really thought he was capable of taking the hatred he felt toward his father out on the hapless soul watching cartoons inside. Or perhaps he was hoping Henry might change his mind about shipping Andy off once things were settled. Having made his intentions clear to Janet and Stan already, Henry stood there silently nodding until Stan got the hint it was time to go.

Around two in the morning Henry was startled awake by a loud thud. His first thought was of a break in. His phone already in hand to call the police when he remembered he wasn't alone in the house. Warily he began to search his home for the source of the disturbance. What he found was Andy in the kitchen pantry and a chaotic mess of food and dishware spread across the kitchen. It looked like a raccoon had entered a top chef competition.

"What the hell? It's the middle of the night." Henry growled.

"Mom forgot to make me breakfast." A small voice from inside the pantry answered.

Henry sighed in exhaustion. "It's not time for breakfast yet. It's time to go back to sleep."

"I want my mom." The voice whined from inside the pantry.

"Time for bed. Come on." Henry commanded.

Henry had to take him by the hand to get him back to his room before spending the next hour reconstructing the kitchen. After which Henry sank into the couch in the rec room.

The rec room, as Brian had always referred to it, was open to the kitchen as well as the hallway that led to the guest room and hall bath before ending up at the master bedroom. Obscured partially by a pony wall that sprouted a series of decorative open shelves above it, Henry could still keep an eye on the door to the guest room. It was Henry's ex, Brian, who had fallen in love with the open concept ranch. Henry rubbed his eyes. His feelings, taking advantage of his exhaustion, wandered back to Brian. The man who had loved him. It was Brian who could always make him laugh, who could manage to broker peace with his sister, and who held him and loved him when cancer took his mom after his father left.

But Brian was gone now and it was his fault. He had let his fear of marriage come between them. Brian would know what to do right now. Henry's thoughts taunted him regret, twisting in his chest as if attempting to wring out the pain.

"I'm hungry."

Henry woke with a start to Andy's face inches from his own.

The hours and the days that followed played out like a series of comedic horrors designed just for Henry's misery. Andy fighting him every step of the way. He threw food, refused to bath, to change his clothes. or even brush his teeth. Running through the house naked twice in attempts to avoid taking a shower. Most encounters left both of them exhausted and Andy in tears. Henry managed to trudge through it. Never looking beyond the task immediately at hand until it was done. Even sleeping on the couch in efforts to keep the constant nocturnal wanderings of his ward at bay. Only to have to do it all over again.

On the fourth day the lawyer called. They would be ready to take Andy in the following week. At last an end in sight, Henry's spirits lifted. Perhaps he'd take more time off, once this was over, to recoup before returning to work.

That was when Janet called.

"You can't abandon him. He's family." She said as soon as Henry picked up. Sensing Henry's attention was actively somewhere else, Andy came up and tapped his arm. Henry held up his hand for him to wait.

"I can't give him the care he needs. Neither could you." He countered. Andy jabbed his finger harder into Henry's arm.

"He'll be all alone." She said. Henry knocked Andy's hand away.

"He's already all alone Janet." He said. There was a noise on her end. A gasp? Some instinctive emotional response. "You can visit." He added. Andy began pulling at his arm to get the phone from his ear.

"Stop it." Henry mouthed angrily yanking away.

"But you won't" Janet accused.

"Don't make me out to be the villain. I restructured all the estate assets into a fund to take care of him."

Henry turned to see where Andy was. Expecting to have to coax him out of the pantry, (his favorite hiding spot), yet again. Andy wasn't there. The front door stood open.

"Shit." Henry hung up and went outside.

He searched up and down the street before calling 911. Luckily a homeowner two blocks down found him playing with their schnauzer. Henry remained calm until the authorities left. He then put on cartoons for Andy to watch and headed for the guestroom with a cardboard box.

His heart now pounding from the fear of what could have happened, Henry began angrily stuffing Andy's clothes into the box. This shouldn't be on him. It wasn't fair. A familiar rage began to well up within him, fueled by all the things Henry hated his father for. He hated him for leaving, for making him so afraid that Brian would leave him that he ended up losing him anyway. He hated that he had buried all the pain inside and now it was too late.

Turning to leave he nearly tripped over the small black notebook on the floor. Sending it shooting into the wall before he was able to retrieve it. Henry sank to the floor against the bed and opened it. There was a picture of Cynthia glued onto one page with a description of her on the opposite. He began to flip through the pages. Each one containing a picture with the description of the person on the opposing page. Andy's whole life in a book. Henry stopped at the page with his pictures. There were two. One of him more recently, (which had to have come from Janet), and one with him and his dad when he was little. He stared at Cynthia's curly handwriting on the opposite page.

"That's my book." Came a voice in the doorway.

Henry nodded, not looking up.

"Don't cry." Said Andy sitting down next to him.

Henry shook his head and wiped his face.

"It's okay Henry."

Henry looked up surprised at hearing his name. They regarded each other a long moment.

"Hi, I'm Andy."

"Hi Andy." Henry managed.

"Why are you sad?" Andy asked.

"I miss my dad." Henry shuddered. His body reacting to the unexpected confession in the form of a shaky gasp for air as he stared ahead not seeing anything.

"You're getting my book wet."

Henry looked back down at the book. The source of his pain spelled out in Cynthia's smudged handwriting.

This is Henry - your son.