“So what was he really doing?” Dre asked, using the flowers to cover her mouth as she spoke.
I waved back at Bo and gave him a thumbs up as he dried his hands.
“Organizing his arsenal.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dre
After the scare with Bo, Preppy and I both decided he needed to feel more of a sense of permanence with us.
He was ours, the adoption was legal and binding, but the three of us still had different last names.
That’s why, on a sunny Friday morning, I brought Bo to the clerk’s office with me and waited for forty minutes. The goal was to leave the building with the same last name.
The Clearwater family was about to become an official party of three.
“THIRTY-FOUR,” a gravelly female voice called out. “THIRTY-FOUR.”
I stood up and waved my ticket at Bo. “Come on, buddy. It’s our turn.” I grabbed his hand and led him to the counter.
“I need two name change forms, please,” I announced to the bored looking woman behind the glass partition.
“Two?” she asked, looking at me above the rim of her reading glasses.
“Yes,” I said. “One for me and one for him.” Bo stood on his tiptoes and smiled at her.
“Hey,” she said, dryly. She tapped some keys on her keyboard while staring at Bo. “What are the reasons for the name changes? Divorce, marriage, adoption, emancipation...”
“Marriage for me. Adoption for him.”
“Do you have your certificate of legal adoption finalization form and your marriage license?” she droned.
I passed her Bo’s forms but realized I’d forgotten to bring the marriage license. It was fake, but they didn’t have to know that. “Crap, I forgot the marriage license, can you please look it up for me?”
“You’re going to have to fill out these forms before I can do that.” She passed me a pink and yellow form, the kind that makes a duplicate underneath while you write. “You can use the pencils in the corner over there,” she said, pointing to the far wall with an empty table and several chairs. All of which were occupied by people filling out the same kind of forms I now had in my hands. “Or you can fill it out on the computer over there.” She pointed to the older model PC on the other side of the room. “When you’re done, take another number.”
“Oh, but I just...”
“Number THIRTY-FIVE!” she called.
“Come on, Bo,” I said, opting for the computer since there was no one there I sat down and propped Bo up on my lap.
The form I needed pulled right up when I clicked NAME CHANGE APPLICATION. It was a relatively simple form but the computer hated me. “See? We can do this, right?” I asked. Bo nodded, but was fixated with a patch of mold growing on the ceiling tile above us.
Current last name was the first field I had to fill out. I entered CAPULET and pressed enter instead of TAB. A new screen pulled up with everything in the county public records that had to do with the last name Capulet popped up, including the transfer of the deed from Mirna’s house. “Shit,” I swore. Bo looked up at me and flashed me a knowing smile. “I mean shoot. Shoot,” I corrected, mussing his hair.
I closed all the tabs I didn’t need and went back to the form. I’d only gotten to the second line to fill in my new last name and I’d already hit the enter key again instead of the tab key after typing Clearwater. “GGGGrrrr,” I growled at the computer as a dozen or so tabs popped up on the screen again, covering my form.
Bo bared his teeth and folded his hands against his chest like paws. “You make a great little lion,” I told him.
I closed out the tabs that were mostly address change forms. People moving from Logan’s Beach to Clearwater, Florida.
I was about to close out the last tab when something caught my eye. It wasn’t an address change form. It was a lawsuit.
Nancy Clearwater Bateman vs. Mutual Life of Nassau.
Mutual Life of Nassau was a well-known life insurance company with a catchy jingle in their commercials that was hard to forget. I scanned the document quickly and basically came to understand that Nancy was suing Mutual Life for failing to pay on policy number #456479874840, but it didn’t give any information on the policy itself. Mutual Life had countered that Nancy had made a late payment on the policy and there was a lot of back and forth statements and paperwork filed between the two parties. I drummed my foot against the desk, knowing in my heart what was coming when I closed the tab, revealing the next document, the resolution of lawsuit.
The one where Mutual Life Insurance of Nassau had agreed to pay one Nancy Clearwater Bateman, beneficiary, a hundred thousand dollars on the life insurance policy taken out in the name of her son.
Samuel Clearwater.
––––––––
Preppy
Dre had been acting strange since she’d gotten home. After Bo went to bed she grabbed a chair that she’d been working on reupholstering and flipped it upside down in the middle of the living room. Kevin and I watched American Ninja Warrior as she grunted and swore at the chair, wrestling with a staple that wouldn’t come loose. “You want my help?” I asked.
Dre didn’t answer and I wasn’t sure if she hadn’t heard me or if she was ignoring me. Finally, she threw down her pliers and stormed off into our room.
“What do I do?” I asked Kevin.
“I don’t know,” he said, taking a sip of his beer. “But you better fix it ‘cause chances are, it’s probably all your fault.”
“True story, man.” I got up and was about to go find Dre and fix whatever was bothering her when she appeared with a big purse, one I didn’t see her carry that often, slung around her shoulder.
“Hey,” she said, when she practically ran into me.
“Hey,” I said back. “Where you running off to?”
“Oh, I’m just gonna run to the discount fabric store and get supplies for the chair. I don’t have the right staples and the plier is all bent and wonky. Maybe while I’m there I’ll check out some new fabric for the couch too. I won’t be too long though,” she said all in one breath.
“They’re still open?” I asked, checking my watch. “It’s eight o’clock.”
“They’re open until ten,” she replied.
“It’s Sunday,” I reminded her.
“Um yeah, I was surprised they’re open so late too.” She looked over my shoulder. “Kevin can I take your car?”
“Uh huh,” he called from the couch, his focus solely on the TV.
“Why don’t you take mine?” I asked, offering her my keys. She dangled Kevin’s keys, which hung from his dirty rabbit’s foot keychain.
“Because I’d like to get there sometime today and if I took yours I’d be driving two miles an hour the entire way, afraid I might do something to hurt it,” she said. “I could play bumper cars with Kevin’s piece of shit and he’d never even notice.”
“Hey,” Kevin called out, still not turning around. “It might be true but that doesn’t mean it don’t hurt any less.”