-------------------- Justin's Story Part III My Return Chapter 17 05/28/00
Written By: Justin Case
Disclaimer: You know the drill. This is a sexually graphic story; if it is illegal for you to be here, you need to vamoose. If you find this material offensive, you might consider leaving. This story is partially true and semi-fiction. It is the story of the author's life. All names have been changed to protect the anonymity of those involved. The author retains all rights to copying and reprinting under the copyright laws of the United States of America. The author, his editor, and the web publisher accept no responsibility for the reader's behavior after or during the reading of this material. If you continue to read this tale, you accept your own responsibility.
Words From Our Author: HEY, HEY! YEP, YEP, it's me. I thought I'd try it again; as much as it hurts, I have to write.
I go to the Doctor this week. I hope the pins come out soon. For those of you who don't know what happened, real quick: A Werner Ladder gave way on me. Yes, Werner is the manufacturer. Feel free to get me their e-mail address; I'd like to talk to them about their quality control. The ladder that gave way on me, May 4, was an eight-foot aluminum ladder. The right leg bent while I was on it, throwing me to the ground. On May 23, I bought a four-foot wooden Werner ladder. Its second rung broke while one of our family business employees stood on it. Luckily the employee was not injured. Both these ladders were rated Class II, 225 pounds. Neither the employee nor I weigh that much.
I hope you all let Werner Ladder know what we think of their product. Hehe.
So how are you all? I miss you all so very much. I feel the need to communicate. I have the desire to write. I will do this chapter one letter and a couple fingers at a time. I hope you like it.
I sat in Mr. Fiore's waiting room with Betty and George. The waiting room was furnished simply; it had a sofa and couple of fireside chairs for clients to wait on. Joyce, Mr. Fiore's assistant, sat at her desk in the waiting area with us. There was a conference table in the back section of the room and filing cabinets - about a half dozen four-drawer filing cabinets lined the back wall.
The three of us sat there in silence.
Mr. Fiore emerged from his office, which was the door to the left side of the filing cabinets. "Justin, it's good to see you. I haven't seen you since you were little. How are you? Did your aunt explain why you're here?" the short, stout, bespectacled lawyer inquired.
"No, not really," I said. I began to wonder, though.
"Well, it seems your grandparents wanted you taken care of. According to their last will and testament, you are to inherit their house. They have also left you a sizeable portion of the stocks they owned," Mr. Fiore solemnly said, as he looked me in the eyes.
I sat there dumbfounded. What was going on? What did all this mean? My head began to spin. "The house, the house is mine?" I mumbled.
"Yes, sir," Fiore responded. "That's correct, the house only; the furnishings are to be divided amongst the six children. The New York and New Hampshire properties are to be liquidated, and the monies equally dispensed to all the children and their offspring," he continued.
I looked up toward Betty. I could see the anger in her face. Those big blue eyes of hers turned green with envy, I believe. I thought to myself, 'Shit, now we'll have a family feud.' My two uncles would have to calm their three younger sisters down. My mother would get lost in the shuffle somewhere; she was never close with her siblings. When my grandmother died, the only picture in her wallet was my mother's. I knew that problems were just around the corner.
"Now, because you're under legal age, a trust will be established. The trustee will be your Uncle Rob. Do you have any questions?" the little plump lawyer concluded.
Questions? I had hundreds of questions, but I said, "Not really." I had to get out of that dinky little office. I had to be alone. I stood, to bring this meeting to an end. "I'll call you after the funeral if I should come up with any questions," I stated as I moved toward the exit.
"Yes, of course. You can talk to Joyce and make an appointment. Why don't you call me Thursday?" Mr. Fiore was saying to my back as I walked out of the office. Betty and George followed me.
The skies had cleared; there were still some clouds. The sun was shining through them. Large gray and silver clouds, with beams of gold peeking through them, were visible. I looked up to the heavens and said 'Thanks, Grams and Gramps.' I could hear some birds chirping as I got into the Honda.
"Well, Justin, I guess we know where we stood with Mommy and Daddy," Betty began. "They always took care of you," she continued, as she turned around in her seat to face me. "We'll split up the furniture this weekend. Jim and Barbara are going back to Florida on Sunday," she finished.
Jim and Barbara are my uncle and his wife. They have lived in Florida for years. My grandparents would go down to visit them every winter. They only came to Connecticut twice that I remember, once when Barbara's mother died and the other time was for my grandparents' fiftieth anniversary.
We pulled into Hanley's Funeral Parlor parking lot; I saw my car first thing. I remember thinking 'I can't wait to take a ride, just me and the Sebring.' I saw Sarah and my mother talking with each other while they stood on the stairs smoking. A panic began to come over me. I would have to face 'What's his name'; it was not going to be easy.
George parked the car and we got out. I looked over to my sister; she saw me and came over to me with her arms open. She embraced me like she had never done.
"Justin, I missed you so much. A lot has happened since you left. We need to talk later, just you and me," Sarah whispered into my ear as we hugged.
I felt a closeness I had never known with my sister that day, a feeling of belonging, that still remains with me today. After all, my sister is my only real biological sibling. I had never had a feeling of being part of a family until that day; I had just coexisted with the members of my former household.
The rest of that day and the next were a blur. We had waked my grandparents Tuesday afternoon and evening. I had never seen so many people; I certainly don't remember all of them. I didn't even remember who most of them were, as they came through the line. The funeral service was Wednesday.
I sat in my chair looking to the door of the funeral home. I saw him as he came through the door. I hadn't seen him since he had been arrested and gone to jail. I had known him since we were little; we used to be inseparable. Tony, my first love. He had filled out. Tony walked through the line; I couldn't take my eyes off him.
Tony stands five foot nine, has long dark brown hair. He has deep-set black eyes, with long brown lashes. Tony has a squared off chin, with the cutest dimples on his cheeks. He always acts shy and polite, so most people immediately take a liking to him. I know I had.
He walked right up to me, looked me in the eyes, and grasped me to him. "I've missed you. I'm so sorry. I remember going camping with you and Gramps in New Hampshire," Tony said quietly into my ear.
I began to cry as he held me. I felt so good in his arms, I could feel him pressing against me. For the first and only time in my life, I felt loved, totally loved. As he tenderly held me close, I felt sheer and total comfort.
"Justin, I know this isn't the right time, but I really need to talk with you," Tony said, as he pulled back from our embrace. He focused those black eyes into my own.
I reached for his hand with mine; I clenched it into my palm. "Tony, can you spend the night with me? I live in my grandparents' house. It's lonely; I'm all alone there," I asked him. He reached his other hand up to my face and wiped away my tears.
"Of course I will," he said, as he gave me his smile.
"Will you sit here with me?" I asked him.
"You mean right now?" he asked me.
I nodded. I wanted him to be with me. I remembered all the good things he had done with me and for me, when we were younger. I thought of our friendship together, before Tricia and the gang. He had been the center of my universe at one time. 'What happened?' I wondered. It came to me, I left him. I became entangled with the gang. Tony never approved. He didn't do drugs, he barely drank. He sat down beside me and held my hand. I felt complete.
"You'll have to take me home to get my things. I didn't drive here," Tony said to me as we sat there in front of the caskets.
"As soon as this is over. I need to talk to you, too," I said, and squeezed his hand in mine. His hand was so warm and soft. He has long slender fingers. I looked at our hands and then into his eyes.
"You know I love you," Tony said into my ear.
"I love you, too. For the first time in my life, I really mean it," I said into his ear.
We sat together the rest of the service. We remained together, inseparable again, just like when we were little, the rest of the day.
I'll leave you here. Thanks for your time. No, we're not done yet; there's more to come. Write me with your thoughts, same address: Justin69SK@aol.com
Thanks, Ed!