He nods and is about to get out of bed.
“I mean, it can wait, I guess, until you’ve napped.”
“Okay.”
Braeden lies back down and pulls the covers over his shoulders. I leave his room and close the door behind me once more.
In the meantime, I’d do some research on all that I need to do for him.
I grab his file from the kitchen and sit in the living room. I open the folder and sort through all his paperwork. There are his shot records, school records, medical history, social security card, birth certificate, and passport. There’s also information on his trust fund, which is fairly substantial, enough to cover college. I set that aside for later. Marisa and Robert were well prepared and organized.
Inside the folder were two sealed envelopes. One was marked, ‘About Braeden,’ and the other was addressed to me personally. I open the first envelope, hoping it has some insight into who Braeden is.
The note is addressed to me and is dated two years ago. So, it’s fairly recent that Marisa and Robert updated their will. Even after all that time, they still found me fit enough to leave their only child with. I’m fucking humbled, and I’m still fucking panicking. Maybe if I’d been in a loving relationship, I would’ve been better suited.
The typewritten note says he’s gifted in music and especially enjoys the flute, piano, and guitar. He takes band in school, but he goes to music school three days a week. I don’t know if he’s still practicing music after two years. I know kids enough to understand their interests change over time, but I’d ask him to be sure.
His favorite foods are spaghetti, tacos, and chocolate milk. He’s been learning how to cook and enjoys it.
It goes on to say that he likes playing video games, he’s very introverted and shy, but he’s incredibly sweet and intelligent. He also likes school and has good grades. Once he gets to know people, he opens up and talks a lot about his interests. I make a mental note to get a video game console and some games. I should grab some instruments, too.
The letter goes on to say that he was easy to raise and that there were no notable issues as he grew up.
My friends put a lot of thought into this, almost as if they foresaw their deaths. I don’t even have a will. I never bothered because there’s no one important in my life.
Until now…
With a deep and shuddering breath, I open the envelope addressed to me. This one is dated the same as the other.
Dearest Cal,
If you’ve received this letter, then Robert and I are gone, and Braeden has been left in your care. Our poor boy. I can’t even imagine what he’s going through right now.
The thought of Braeden potentially losing us is painful, but Robert and I want to be prepared for all contingencies.
Thank you for being his godfather and for being his willing guardian. We understand you never wanted children, but we trust you to do right by our son. We know that in the chaos, you’ll shine bright for him and yourself. He’s in good hands.
Braeden will eventually come to love you. We hope you’ll love him, too. He’s incredibly sweet, thoughtful, emotionally intelligent, and smart. He struggles with insecurity and is very shy, but he will open up to you. I know it.
We’ve also set aside some funds for him for college, and some money for you to help raise him.
Robert and I trust you to take care of our most precious asset. You may doubt yourself now. You may be scared. But you can do this.
We adore you and miss you.
Your friends,
Marisa and Robert Cox
My eyes water again, and I pinch them to fucking stop it. It’s time to be strong. My life as I know it is over. There’s no turning back. It’s time to grow the fuck up.
A couple of hours later, Braeden comes downstairs and sits on the farthest corner of the couch. I’ve been sitting here, still sifting through the legal documents and figuring out the process of how to be a permanent fixture in his life. I’ve also been making a list of everything I need to do.
How did new parents deal with this? It’s so fucking much. Then again, I’m getting a crash course in a few short hours.Parent. Jesus. Never once did I think I would be calling myself that.
I close the folders and sit back to look at Braeden. His eyes are swollen, his hair is rumpled, and he’s picking at the torn bits on his jeans.
“Did you sleep okay?”
