Avenge Me

               “Are you okay?” Heather Hanley asked her husband, Jason, as he navigated the morning traffic on I-64.

               “Sure, why?” Jason responded.

               “Well, this happened so suddenly and you’ve been very quiet,” she explained.

               “Just stress trying to manage it all, no biggie. I can see some light at the end of the tunnel,” he answered.

               “I mean,” she began, trying to navigate her own way through a difficult talk, “he was your only surviving parent. He raised you. He absolutely loved Jacob.”

               “Look, honey…” Jason began before being interrupted.

               “Oh Gawd, don’t give me the ‘look honey,’ you know that’s your condescending tone warning,” Heather reprimanded.

               “I know, it’s just that I was never really close to him. It wasn’t like you and your mom and dad. It was different,” said Jason.

               “It could never be like my mom and dad,” Heather countered, “your mom died when you were two! That had to be hard on him!”

               “Yeah, I don’t know,” mused Jason, “I just always felt like a burden to him. He was always cold.”

               “Always?” she asked, “he was sweet to me and Jacob.”

               “If you think he was sweet, you haven’t been consuming enough sugar,” said Jason.

               They pulled into the parking lot of Johnson & McKorckle, a small, non-descript strip mall law firm. Apparently, some loose strings from the estate of the late John Hanley needed to be tied up. Jason was in a rush to finalize everything and just move on. After all, John was a lineman for the electric company, and there were no European beachfront villas or yachts to be distributed. Nor was there any life insurance involved. Jason and Heather had to dip into their savings to just have a small but respectable funeral.

               “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Hanley!” the blonde, middle-aged receptionist greeted the couple, “I’ll let Mr. Johnson know you’re here, please have a seat.”

               “Thanks,” Jason said unenthusiastically, before making his way to the small Keurig machine in the waiting area, “you want coffee, honey?”

               “What kind is it?” she asked.

               “Great Value Classic Roast or Great Value Decaf, it’s like we’re at the Qwik Lube,” Jason responded sarcastically.

               “The I’ll pass,” Heather replied.

               “Two Rivians and a 2024 Corvette out front and we get Walmart coffee. Standard lawyers,” complained Jason.

               “You get what you pay for!” a voice could be heard from around the opened office doorway, startling Jason.

               A short, bald, older gentleman with thick-rimmed glasses appeared with a big smile on his face.

               “Bob Johnson, nice to meet you,” the old barrister greeted as he extended his hand, “you two can come on back.”

               Bob’s office looked like a relic of the 1970s, with a basic big box store style desk, 4 tall filing cabinets, and two waiting room-style chairs. An HP Workstation with two giant curved monitors was the only sign of the times. A giant panorama of the New York skyline, bracketed by a cheap black plastic frame say behind him.

               “Well, I’m glad you could make it here today and I’m so sorry for your loss!” said Bob as he gingerly sat down in his chair, “your dad told me all about you!”

               “Thanks!” Jason replied, “he didn’t tell me anything about you!”

               “Ha ha!” Bob replied with a deep, smoky laugh, “he had his reasons, trust me. Let me just look for the file and, uh, here we go.” Bob handed a thick brown file folder over to Jason.

               “What’s this?” Jason asked.

               “That, Jason, is all the information you need for your trust,” Bob answered.

               “What trust?” asked Jason, confusedly.

               “It’s the one your dad set up for you and your family. He made me the trustee, which means I distribute the money to you per your dad’s instruction,” Bob informed the couple.

               “Awwww, that’s was very nice of your dad,” said Heather, nudging her husband slightly with her elbow.  

               “Wait, I don’t understand. He didn’t even have life insurance,” said Jason as he half-heartedly flipped through the documents, “who is this TR Jennings?”

               “’TR Jennings’ is your father, John Hanley,” explained Bob, “it was his pseudonym.”

               “Pseudonym?” questioned Jason, “why in the hell did he need an alias?”

               “He didn’t want any attention,” said Bob, “his little side hustle got a little too big for him.”

               “All right,” demanded Heather, “this is very confusing to us. Can you just tell us what’s going on?”

               Bob took a sip from his old, stained coffee mug, emblazoned with the phrase “I’d Rather be 40 than pregnant,” undoubtedly a gift given to his wife at one point.

               “Jason,” Bob said as he looked deep into his eyes, “I know this will be a surprise, but your daddy was a pretty damn good songwriter.”

               “Songwriter?!” Jason exclaimed, perplexed.

               “Three number one’s, another six in the top 40, several others critically acclaimed. He wrote for Blake Battle, Kenny Howard, Jasmine Amos, the Deputies,” said Bob, “amassed $10.3 million, never spent a dime of it.”

               “Is this a joke?’ Jason asked, “my father did not write songs.”

               Bob’s face opened up with a huge grin. “I’ve been in this business for 40 years,” he said, “and I always love these moments. You know, when people really get to know their deceased loved one. Sure, there’s lots of bad news, but I live for moments like this!”

               “What were the hits?” asked Heather, “I love me some Blake Battle!”

               Bob grabbed the file folder from Jason, flipping through about halfway through the stack.

               “Well, there’s this one right here. Written in his own handwriting because he refused to type. “Avenge Me,” by Blake Battle, I’m sure you’ve heard that one,” said Bob.

               “Oh my God, he wrote that? That’s one of my favorite songs!” exclaimed Heather.

               “Wow!” said Jason as he looked over the lyrics, “this is unbelievable! I’d never have guessed.

               “This is the one he wrote for you,” said Bob, “you were his everything. Anyway, we need to keep in regular contact. My job is to ensure the money is managed effectively. You’ll get your mortgage or rent covered for life, any down payment, school tuition, student loan debt. And anything you might need for emergencies. Today, I just wanted to establish contact and meet with you. You can get your own attorney to look this over if you’d like. In fact, I’d recommend it and the fees can come from the trust.”

               “Whew,” Jason said with a giggle, “this is NOT what I expected at all.”

               “Your dad was a great man, and to him, nothing was greater than you.” Bob said.

               Jason and Heather got into their white Toyota 4Runner, immediately holding hands while staring at each other with excited eyes.

               “My husband,” she said, “the subject of one of my favorite songs, a #1 hit!”

               “Don’t you ever forget it,” said Jason.

               As they began their 30-minute trip home, Heather plugged her phone into the car radio, and flipped through her playlists. Finally, she settled on what she was looking for. The familiar piano intro followed, as country music star Blake Battle’s voice gently bellowed the lyrics:

It’s 6:00 am on a Monday

Once again, the week begins

Somehow, you climbed into bed next to me

It’s what you’ve done since God knows when

Oh Lord where can I find the energy?

I have no choice, I suppose

I’m sour, but you’re sweet, even with your kicking feet

Why did your mother have to go?

Grow up, my love, be a good man

Everything will be all right

You’re my hope, my posterity

Please avenge me

And live your life in the light

It’s a Friday night, well past 9.

You should be home, you’re only 16

I’m a worried mess, sitting with a Jack & Coke

And I know when I hear that door, I’m going to be mean

God, I wish you were still three

Toys and crumbs all over the place

Soon you’ll be asking for a car

And maybe your own place

Grow up, my love, be a good man

Everything will be all right

You’re my hope, my posterity

Please avenge me

And live your life in the light

You’re off to college, your mother’s only wish

While she laid there at the end of her life

And I promised that lady, I’d care for her baby

The greatest thing to happen in our lives

Now, you didn’t get any scholarships

But I’ll cover your loans

In my life, there is only us

And now it’s going to be me alone

Grow up, my love, be a good man

Everything will be all right

You’re my hope, my posterity

Please avenge me

And live your life in the light

I come to your home on Christmas Day

Your wife gives me her smile

But it’s not her that I’m coming to see

I want to see my son and grandchild

He has eyes like your mom, so adorable

Him nestled on my arm, head on my hand

You’ve avenged me, son, you’re a great man.