Chapter 3

Dash

March 2017

I’ll never see my father again.

As the Boeing 747 hovers above the sea of clouds on my flight home from Syria, my thoughts are of my father, whose death I learned of just days ago. It came as a shock, of course, especially since they said he died of a stroke. The last time I saw him, he was perfectly healthy. Then again, I remember a doctor on TV saying once that the heart is the biggest traitor of all, turning against you when you least expect it. Besides, it’s been ages since I last saw him. Twelve years, to be exact.

The last time I saw him, he shouted that I should come back a flag-covered corpse or not at all.

Now, here I am on a plane bound for the BWI Airport, returning home alive and intact with just a few scars. The deepest ones are invisible to the naked eye.

I run my fingers over one of the scars just below my right ear, caused by a fucking piece of shrapnel from an explosion that went off too soon.

Twelve years.

It feels like an eternity and the blink of an eye at the same time, especially since most of those years were spent in deployment – my choice. I love the rush of combat and I didn’t really have a reason to come home.

Until now.

“Can I get you anything?” the stewardess, whose name tag reads Lisa, interrupts my reverie as she passes by.

My former self would have said ‘a good fuck’, which I so badly need as the last one I had was months ago.

I shake my head, not in the mood for flirting.

Maybe I’ve outgrown it.

She eyes my jacket, her gaze lingering over the insignia. “How long have you been in the Marines?”

“Twelve years.”

“Going home for good?”

“Yeah.” I shift in my seat. “Finally.”

She smiles. “If there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”

And she’s gone.

I take off the jacket, draping it over an arm as I turn my gaze back past the window, wondering what’s waiting for me back at home.

In these twelve years, I’ve barely spoken to my mother, never to my brother or father. Everyone else got emails, Skype videos, and Facebook messages from home. Not me. When I turned my back on my family, they turned their back on me, and we were all too proud to reconsider.

But the battlefield took its toll on me.

Now I almost regret letting things end the way they did.

I was actually preparing to go home and be a part of the Reserves when I got that call about my father. I’d decided it was about time to patch things up with him and the rest of the family. Guess it’s too late now.

I’m even late for the funeral. Had to finalize some arrangements before I could come home.

I sigh as I look at my watch.

Dad gave this to me.

I try to remember him not as he was the last time we spoke, but as he was while I was growing up.

Mostly busy. Always busy with work or golf or getaways with Mom.

I do remember the few family vacations, though, and how he taught me to play golf and to fish during two of those. I remember him being at my high school graduation, and I remember the Christmases. He wasn’t always around for Thanksgiving or Fourth of July – even those holidays were sometimes taken over by corporate duties – but he was always around for Christmas and he always wore a red sweater on Christmas morning and had the first piece of turkey. One Christmas, he even got me my first puppy, a two month-old black Labrador: Spaghetti. Spaghetti lived a full life, and when it was her time, Dad buried her in the backyard.

Whatever arguments we had, he was still my father.

I don’t know what I missed these past few years, but I hope they were filled with happiness in spite of my absence. I hope that Dad can finally rest and have peace.

Bye, Dad.

I close my eyes, trying to get one last nap in before the plane lands in Baltimore.

* * *

Baltimore hasn’t changed much, and neither has the house.

I stand in front of the imposing house, with its reddish brown, white, and gray façade, and I sigh.

No one’s here to greet me just as there was no one at the airport to pick me up.

That’s fine. After all, everyone must be busy with the funeral or tired from it.

As I go all the way around to the back of the house after leaving my suitcase on the front steps, I see clumps of used tissue here and there, probably blown by the wind from the pile of trash or carelessly tossed away by a guest. I see a discarded funeral card, too, and I pick it up, staring at the picture of my father on it, a picture of my father in his golf outfit on a golf course in Scotland, laughing. I’ve seen it before. It’s one of my favorite pictures of him. No doubt Mom felt the same.

At the back, I see the empty chairs where the guests must have sat, the wreaths of white flowers hanging from makeshift columns and the long tables with leftover food. It seems I missed the funeral reception by only minutes.

As the maids scramble about, cleaning up the mess, I approach one of the long tables, removing the lid off one of the trays.

Ah, lamb goulash. Dad’s favorite.

I pick up the spoon and try some.

Dad would have loved it.

I get the bottle of wine as well, pouring myself a glass and raising it.

“Cheers, Dad.”

“Dash?”

I finish the contents of the glass, setting it down on the table before turning around to find myself face to face with a tall woman in her fifties. She wears sunglasses and an elegant black dress.

“Mom.”

She takes off her sunglasses to reveal eyes sore from crying. “Oh, Dash.”

She runs over to me, hugging me tightly, saying nothing more. No words are needed. I can feel it all in her embrace: how much she missed me, how relieved she is that I’ve come home safely, how she wishes I’d come home sooner and seen Dad one last time, how lonely she is now that Dad’s gone, and how less lonely she feels now that I’m finally here.

I put my arms around her as well. “I’m sorry I missed Dad’s funeral.”

Mom pulls away, shaking her head as she dries a tear. “It’s alright.”

But she isn’t alright. She looks older, much older than I last remember, and something tells me she aged much more in the past few days than she has in the past twelve years. She’s still beautiful but she’s thinner, paler. She looks frail. Exhausted. I’m the one who’s coming home from a war zone, but she looks like she’s just been through World War III.

“I should have come sooner,” I tell her. “I should have come to see him before he… while he was still alive.”

“He would have been happy to see you.”

“Would he?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer that. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.” She strokes my cheeks. "What matters is that you’re home. And for good, I hope.”

“I’m not going off to war anymore, if that’s what you’re asking,” I tell her.

“Good.” She smiles. “Because you’re needed here.”

“Is he?” a familiar voice interjects.

I turn around to see Billy coming out of the house in an impeccably tailored suit, glass of wine in hand. He, on the other hand, doesn’t look like he’s changed at all. His nose is still mousy and his chin is still weak, two features I expected to grow as he aged. Still the same neatly combed chestnut hair. Still that average build, just a few pounds short of stocky. Still that same bitter look in his brown eyes.

“Hello, Billy,” I greet. “How have you been?”

“Better than you,” he answers, the bitterness also in his voice. “What are you doing here? I thought Dad told you not to come back alive.”

“Billy,” Mom scolds. “Dash is your brother.”

“Really? I seem to recall Dad saying I’m his only son.”

“We all know why he said that,” Mom says. “He didn’t mean it. Besides, now that your father’s gone, we’re all that’s left of this family.”

“Ah. So because Dad’s gone, Dash is forgiven?” Billy asks.

Mom frowns.

I step forward. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused you, Billy. That was not my intention. I believe I made that clear before I left.”

“Your leaving made it clear you didn’t give a damn about anyone in this family,” Billy says.

“Billy,” Mom scolds again. “Stop it. The past is in the past. Dash is here now. He’s back.”

“So, what? Are you going to hand him the company now?” Billy asks.

“I don’t intend to take over the family company,” I assure.

“But you want a piece of it?” Billy shakes his head. “Well, you won’t get any. Dad’s made sure of that.”

“Now, now, Billy,” Mom says. “We don’t know what Dash’s plans are now that he’s home. And we’re not sure about anything your Dad left.” She turns to me. “That’s why we’re meeting with the lawyer this evening. You remember Walter, don’t you? He’ll be reading your father’s last will and testament.”

I give her a puzzled look. “He is?”

“You look so surprised,” Billy says. “Isn’t that why you came home?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “That’s not why I came home, and you know it.”

Billy shrugs. “The truth is I don’t know you anymore. My brother died twelve years ago.”

“That’s enough,” Mom says then turns to me. “Dash, why don’t you go inside? The lawyer will be here at six. I’m sure you’ll want to rest before then.”

“Why should he even come?” Billy says. “He’s not in Dad’s will and you know it.”

“Billy…”

“You’re right, Mom. I’ll go inside and rest.” I give her a kiss on the cheek and walk towards the house, pausing in front of Billy and giving him a pat on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you again, Billy.” I lean over. “Please don’t make things harder for Mom.”

He snorts. “You’re the one who’s been doing that.”

I don’t retort. Instead, I make my way into the house.

“Do you still think Dad left you something after all you’ve done?” he calls out.

Again, I don’t mind. I don’t know what I think. At any rate, it doesn’t matter. I’ll find out tonight.

* * *

“To Daniel Shore Siegel, my older son who left his family behind and went off to war,” Walter reads from the document in his hand.

I hold my breath.

“You told me you were going to find your own fate, so find it. I leave you nothing.”

I hear my mother gasp.

Fuck.

“All I have I leave to my beloved wife, Nina Patterson-Siegel, and my son, William Louis Siegel.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Billy grin.

“And now, for some other small things. To my friend…”

I am no longer listening, lost in thought as I sit back in my chair. I knew Dad was deeply hurt by what I’d done. After all, he begged me to stay, and I walked out on him. I didn’t expect him to forgive me so I can’t say I’m entirely surprised by his decision to cut me out of his will.

Still, I was hoping he wouldn’t. Guess I know that now.

I stand up, putting my hands in my pockets before pacing the room.

In his last moments, I hoped he would remember me as his son, the same way I remember him now: not as he was last, but as he had been before.

I tell myself he didn’t have the time to reflect or change anything in the will, but he did forgive me. He wished he could take it back.

He died suddenly. It’s possible.

But now, all is lost and I feel like punching the wall right there below his portrait. I don’t know what hurts more: my father still controlling my life even though he’s gone, or how this ruins all my plans for the future.

I stop by the window, scanning the garden below with a furrowed brow. I had plans. I had plans to create my own company. I was going to manufacture better weapons and equipment for military personnel, in turn saving hundreds of lives.

I sit down, burying my face in my hands. Have I really been such a horrible son?

“That is all,” Walter says as he turns the page over. “Oh, wait. I forgot about the addendum.”

An addendum? I raise my head along with my hopes.

“Concerning my son, Dash,” Walter reads. “Should he come home alive and have a legal family to support at the time of my death or within three years of it, he shall have his inheritance.”

What?

“Otherwise, my estate will still solely be distributed among my wife and Billy.”

I blink, still trying to digest that addendum.

I can still get my inheritance.

But I need to have a family to support. A “legal” one.

They always did love to see the men of our family get married up and start having babies. Clever old goat trapped me.

“I guess you’ll have to get married, big brother,” Billy says as he approaches me, grinning. “That shouldn’t be a problem, right? If I recall, you were always irresistible with the ladies. Oh, wait. That was when you were younger and had a lot of money.”

I frown at him.

“Billy, stop it,” Mom scolds, sitting beside me. “I’m sure you can find someone. You’re a Marine, after all. If you want, I can even help you.”

I shake my head, placing a hand on her thigh and almost laughing. “It’s fine, Mom. I’ll be alright. I don’t need you to find me a woman. Don’t need anything.”

I stand up, leaving the room after a brisk parting kiss to the crown of her head.

I can find a woman on my own.

* * *

I’m not so sure I should be doing this.

I sit in front of my laptop, opened on the desk in my father’s study, wavering.

Yes, I want to get my inheritance. I need it to start the company. No, I don’t want to have a family just to get my inheritance. What kind of a person does that?

Then again, I’m not getting any younger. And I have to admit, when I was out in the field, there were times when I wished that I had a family. Not Billy and my parents, but my own family that I could come home to.

A family I truly belong with.

I sit up, sighing as I place my fingers on the keyboard.

Alright. Let’s do this.

I pull up RealCupid.com and start making my own ad.

What am I looking for?

I find my mind drifting back to the last woman who really made a dent in me… It was so long ago, it takes me a minute to dredge up her name: Janine. I remember her clearly. Haughty yet serious. Bright copper hair that demands to be played with, to be pulled. Smart, amber eyes a man could get lost in.

But I can’t say all that, or no one will respond. I haven’t seen another woman like that since.

So I start with the basics.

Female. 25 to 30. Long red hair.

I can’t totally discount the memories she left impressed in me. I love redheads now. So sue me.

Single. Straight. Healthy and physically fit.

I wish I could add all the details as I remember them. The heart-shaped pendant around her neck. The high, firm breasts. The proud way she stood. The nervous, fleeting eye contact that could suddenly fasten and hold, letting me know she really wanted me, too.

But I can’t say all that or no one will respond. So…

I’m looking for someone with a heart of gold, someone who doesn’t like breaking the rules, but does it anyway for a bit of good fun. I’m looking for someone who isn’t afraid to scrape her knees climbing a tree or falling out of one, or break up a fight or hesitate to laugh out loud even with a mouth full of food, someone who doesn’t mind being alone but is always ready to have a good time. Can handle her alcohol but doesn’t mind getting a little drunk every once in a while.

As I type, I remember Janine at the bar, sipping her beer and eating her salad and sizing me up and when I’ve finished typing, I smile.

That’s her, alright.

Now, I just have to add one more tiny detail.

Ready to get married and have a child ASAP.

At that last bit, I frown, finding it a bit weird.

Oh, well. The whole situation is weird.

I hit DONE on my ad and send it blazing into cyberspace.

Standing and stretching, I head to the window overlooking the tall elms and the short brick enclosure of the courtyard. Beyond lays the road… and the rest of the world.

I know you’re out there.