A Battle Of Wills

He walked into the room and sat down. Patty was already sitting to his left. He gave her his trademark winning smile, which she returned with a haughty glance of dismissal.

“Some grandfather’s cousin’s adopted son’s daughter you are.” He mumbled under his breath.

Patty heard him and glared at him, “My father just died and left his most beloved possessions to you, Wilson.” She spat. “Do you expect me to smile about it?”

This was all news to him, but he just raised his brow in response, “Really now? What would that be? Just the wooden box he carved when he was stuck in Manzanar? No one really wants his junk; you’re just jealous he loved me more than you.”

She sucked in a breath at his words. “I showed him more love in one day than you ever did. Just because I’m a girl…” She shook her head, trying to reign in her emotions.

The door opened and in walked Saul’s inheritance lawyer. He shook their hands and sat down.

“I’m Frank Dean, Saul’s lawyer. Hello Patty. Good to see you again. You must be Walter.”

Walter nodded his head and slouched a bit more in his chair. “Taylor, Walter Taylor. Shaken, not stirred; all that good stuff. Let’s get this over and done with, shall we? I’ve got places to go, things to do.”

Mr. Dean furrowed his brow at this, but Patty turned to Walter and hissed, “God, Walter. Show some respect.”

“As per Saul’s request, Patty receives all his belongings except for this box.” He pulled a small wooden box out of his desk.

“Cool. Thanks.” Walter said, reaching out to grab it.

“Isn’t there a way I can contest this?” Patty desperately asked.

Mr. Dean gave her a sympathetic look. “Sorry Patty, but he was his adoptive son.”

“God-son, his parents wouldn’t let him get adopted. Though I don’t know why.” She corrected with a look of disgust quickly flashing across her face before being covered once again by her grief.

“It’s all about the power of the XY chromosomes, baby.” Walter said arrogantly. “You know that. Did Saul leave me an explanation to what all this crap is?” he asked, gesturing to the small pile he had taken out of the box.

“There’s a letter that goes with it.” Mr. Dean pointed.

“Yeah, yeah. I skimmed it. It didn’t say anything about all this stuff though. Just mostly about how he knew I would cherish all his stuff and to make sure Patty stayed out of trouble. The usual.”

Patty shot Mr. Dean a pleading look. “He told us thousands of times what these things are! I can’t believe you don’t remember. Here’s the earring his mom gave him to give to his wife. Remember how he lost the first one moving when we were kids? He was sad about that for weeks.”

“Well what am I supposed to do with it?” Walter grunted. “I have no use for a single fake pearl earring. I recognize this baby though. What a hottie.” He said, pointing to a chubby baby in one of the pictures.

Patty rolled her eyes. “That one’s me. This one is you.” She pointed to a picture of a different baby. Your parents sent it with a postcard of the hospital you were born at. Apparently they were trying to soften the blow that they weren’t going to give you up.”

“And he kept it all these years?” Walter questioned disbelievingly.

Mr. Dean tried to hide his displeasure of this turn of events, “I know these things seem old and pointless to you Walter, but to Saul—and Patty—these are cherished mementoes and memories. Please keep that in mind.”

“Yeah, I know. But everything here is just so old and useless.” He said, rolling his eyes.

He looked over at Patty, whose red-rimmed eyes looked like they were about to begin bursting with tears any moment.

“I don’t know what happened to you Walter.” She cried. “You used to be so nice to me when we were younger. Now you’re rude and distanced from everyone. It’s like you’re a completely different person.”

Walter looked at her with disinterest. “Yeah, well I used to be a wimpy little kid. That’s what changed. I got tired of being picked on and grew a backbone.”

Patty shook her head. “This is different than that. You didn’t even come to say goodbye to my dad when he asked for you. He was on his deathbed! And you ignored him.” She sobbed.

Walter began to look uneasy. “I was out of town—I told you that. Even if I had flown back I wouldn’t have gotten there in time.”

“You could have tried!”

“Alright, I’m sorry!” Walter stood up, fists clenched, ready to do battle. “I’m sorry your dad loved me more than you, I’m sorry he left me all his stuff. You know what—you take it. I don’t want it, and it obviously means more to you than it does to me.” He shoved the box in her lap.

Patty shook her head, “It was his last wishes for you to have it.”

Walter snorted, “You think I care? He also wanted me to be his son—he had you instead. You acted more like his son than I ever did. You were his flesh and blood—not me.” He shook his head. “Damn traditions. If you had been a boy, he would have disowned me the moment I was born, and we both know it.”

Patty frowned, “I don’t think this is legal.” She looked over at Mr. Dean.

Walter cut in before Mr. Dean could say anything. “So what? You gonna take me to court for this? What’ll be your case? ‘My father willed him all his crap but he doesn’t want it so he gave it to me?’” he snorted. “Come on, Pat.” He coaxed, calling her by her childhood nickname for the first time in years. “You know it rightfully belongs to you. If I took the stuff it would just sit in my closet.”

Patty suddenly got up and grabbed Walter in a hug. “Thank you.” She whispered.

Walter awkwardly stood in her arms, “This isn’t for you. This is because I don’t want to keep your dad’s crap in my house. Don’t thank me.” He said abrasively, pushing her back once he realized what she was doing.

Brushing invisible specks of dust off his well worn jeans, he looked down at the shocked occupants of the room, “As fun as this hurrah has been, it’s time for me to go. See you both at the next funeral or family shin-dig—whichever will come first, I guess.” And with a two-fingered salute, he exited the room.

Patty looked at Mr. Dean, who looked back at her in shock, “Well who woulda thought.”