Page 6 of Absolute Valor

Dylan rested his palms against the counter behind him, elbows bent at his sides, “Yeah, there is.” His tone reflected his worry, something Dylan didn’t show often or to many people.

“Chase, man, what if she can’t see past the man I was?” He’s looking at the floor, shame etched on his face. From the moment I saw my brother for the first time, he has always been larger than life, a confident and fierce kind of guy. Even in some pretty messy situations, he doesn’t let anyone see him sweat. This guy, the one who stands with his head hung low and his worries on his shoulders, is a new man, a better one, and all because of a good woman—one he is proud to stand with, one who is loyal to him and this family.

“What if she says no?”

It wasn’t often Dylan came to me for advice, so while I had the opportunity, I was going to help him see what everyone else saw.

“Do you remember the year Presley Morrison asked you to Sadie Hawkins dance?”

Dylan had always been a popular guy, it wasn’t surprising to anyone when he made the varsity football team and was chosen as captain, while still a sophomore. Presley Morrison was a freshman with personality to spare. She never met a stranger and had an obsession with the color pink. She was also mentally challenged, yet she never let it keep her from doing anything, including asking Dylan to the dance.

Dressed head to toe in her signature color, with a blonde wig and tiara on her head; she came strutting up the hall with a picnic basket draped over her arm. She walked up to Dylan, who was having a conversation with some girls’ cleavage, and asked him to have lunch with her on the quad. Priscilla Morgan may not have given birth to Dylan, but he certainly got his big heart from her.

Dylan took the basket from Presley, extended her his elbow and walked down the crowded hallway with her. With the entire school walking by them, Dylan took a peanut butter sandwich from Presley, something she proudly admitted she had made by herself that morning. With girl after girl walking by them, Dylan Morgan accepted the invitation to be Presley’s date.

And so, on a Saturday night, in the middle of our barn, Dylan danced with Presley on the makeshift dance floor, under the twinkling lights our momma hung for the occasion. As the dance ended, Dylan walked a wide-eyed and happy young girl back to the arms of her daddy, who was waiting outside the barn door. Dylan could have turned her down, said another girl had already asked him, but he didn’t.

Dylan swallowed hard, his attention on his boots. “Who could forget Miss Presley?” That following summer, Presley Morrison lost her battle with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. When the treatments, which took what little hair she once had, no longer worked, Presley asked her parents to let her live her final days as a normal high school girl. Dylan stood proud as one of her many pallbearers, leading the line of the fifty football players, who each placed a single pink rose inside her coffin.

“You were well on your way to the man you are today when Presley set her sights on you. What did you say to her when she asked you?” Dylan had made the princess in Presley spring to life when he jumped to his feet, took her hand in his and said he would be honored to be her date.

“Hey, I was always respectful with women back then. Especially Presley.” His voice lowered as he spoke her name. “Besides, she was quicker than the other girls. I would have been put in a corner if I would have said no to her and Momma found out.” He turned away from me, we had all known how much Dylan was affected when Presley died. “Boy, you are about to split hell in half with that lie.”

Granddaddy’s life lessons seem to come to me more and more since his death. When I was younger, I thought they were antiquated and no longer applied to real life—now, I knew better.

“You’re right to worry, marriage is a huge step, and one you don’t want to jump into too quickly. Spending the rest of your days with the same girl, being there at her worst, eating her burnt suppers with a smile on your face, and listening to her sing off key in the shower to music you hate. Or worse, having to tell her when her clothes are getting a little tight on her when she asks you how she looks.” I motioned for Dylan to join me by the coffee pot, something our granddaddy always did when he had advice to give. When we were little, he would let us sneak chocolate milk, instead of the basic white stuff. He’d even put it in a mug so we could stand beside him as equals. I handed him a cup of black coffee, recalling how granddaddy would frown if you diluted your cup of joe in his presence. You learned fast to get over the bitter taste and chug it down.

“But you also get to wake up beside one of God’s greatest creations. See her smiling face as she tells you she loves you and kisses you with her sweet lips. How she disappears under the covers and reminds you how much of a man you are to her. The tiny ways she melts your heart and makes you smile. And someday, she will bless you with a mini version of the two of you, another creation to steal your heart from your chest. Dylan, Claire is a smart girl, she chose to be with you for a reason. She chose to ignore all the baggage you pack around on that back of yours. Just as you made Presley’s day when you accepted her request, Claire will take pity on you and give you the answer you hope for.”

Dylan watched intently as I spoke the words I hoped would set his mind at ease. He was the one who gave out the advice, took charge of the difficult situations and went to bat for us. It felt good to be able to help him this time.

“When did you get to be so smart, little brother?”

I didn’t get the chance to answer as Audrey stood in the doorway, clearing her throat like a father at the end of prom night, “sorry, um, there is a Mr. Morrison on line two. He needs to speak with you, Chase.” She didn’t wait to see if I wanted to take the call. Dylan and I exchanged looks, what were the odds the father of the girl we had been talking about calls. Reaching for the receiver, clueless of why he would need to speak with me.

“Morning, Mr. Morrison. What can I do for ya?” Silence filled the line, causing me to look to the keypad to see if the call had been disconnected. With the red light still glowing, I waited for him to continue.

“I’m sorry, sir, this is Tyler Morrison with Infinity First credit services. I’m calling in regards to your past due account with us. In accordance with federal and state laws, this call may be monitored or recorded for training purposes.”

I’m about to hang up, knowing this is a wrong number. I have two credit cards, one is personal and not with this particular company. The second is my military travel card, which I am waiting to surrender at my appointment with my commander next week. At the last second, I hit the speaker button allowing the conversation to be heard in the shop. I was going to have a little fun with the guy on the other end, perhaps give him reason to find an honest job.

“Infinity? Ain’t that a car company or somethin’?” Dylan looks at me with confusion in his eyes. I smirk at him and mouth, “watch this.” Dylan leans back against the counter, his arms crossed against his chest, amusement has replaced the confusion.

“Yes, sir. Infinity is a type of car, but also the name of the credit card you opened late last year. According to our records, the account reached the limit we extended to you and we have yet to receive a payment. We are calling you today in an attempt to settle this debt.” Something inside me stirred. Most of last year I spent covered in sand and shit, escorting a medical team through hostile territory. Most of my days were spent keeping one eye on mountain ranges and the other on where my gun was pointed. The last thing on my mind was logging onto the internet to shop for low interest credit cards.

“Let me ask you a real quick question…” Thoughts of having fun with the man slowly faded to black, as memories burst forth of me shoving a nurse face first into the sand as an insurgent tried to make a name for himself by opening fire on the caravan, the big red cross on the side of the truck meaning nothing to him. “How many people do you call on a daily basis, making them think they did something wrong, like forgetting to pay somebody they owe?” Not allowing time for him to respond, my question didn’t really require an answer. “Taking folks’ hard earned money, and then disappearing into the velvet of the night. Well son, you picked the wrong guy to try and scam today. I haven’t been in a position to open any new accounts in a long time. Now, I would appreciate it if you went and got yourself an honest job, so I don’t have to find out where you are and send my police officer brother to arrest your no good ass.”

I ended the call with a little more force than what was needed. What started out as a joke had escalated into a fire in my belly. I knew where every dime I had went, I also knew Harmony didn’t have access to my accounts, but by the look on Dylan’s face, that was exactly what he was thinking. “Don’t you fucking start. I can see by the look in your eyes, you’re thinking somethin’.”

Dylan’s face never changed, his eyes giving nothing away. I knew what he was thinking, same damn thing everyone had been trying to say since I brought Harmony to dinner. They didn’t know her like I did—the girl who made me smile when she walked into the door, with a heart so big she needed a bigger body to house it.

“First off, you don’t get to tell me what to do. Second, that call may or may not be a fake, but ask yourself this; if it was, how the hell did they know to call you here?”

It’s thinking like that, which made Dylan good at being a detective. “Doesn’t matter if it was or wasn’t, I ain’t got time to call them back and check.”

The stupidity in my words reflected back in the glare Dylan sent my way. We both knew I could go into the back office, close the door and look up the company’s name on the internet. Or I could call Austin and have the answer in less than a minute. If I was in the mood to talk with my middle brother, I might have considered it. When the look turned into Dylan pointing in the direction of the office, I knew this was where the argument needed to end.

Closing the door behind me, I contemplated sitting in here and letting him think I was calling Austin. But those two gossiped like a couple of old women and I knew Dylan had sent the fucker a text to expect my call. Sitting heavily in the chair, the computer screen and phone mocked me. I shouldn’t have to be the one to say something first, Austin dug around and created shit on me, not the other way around.

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