Ne'er Do Well

"Great! We can probably get you signed up as a PFC then and you'll make some really good money right off the bat. You could start at about $1700 a month while you were in Basic and Advanced training, plus housing and subsistence allowances. While you lived in the barracks and ate at the mess hall you wouldn't receive the housing and subsistence. If you lived off post you would get them in addition to your base pay.

"After you came back home, you will receive about $258.00 a month for each weekend and $903.00 for your two weeks in the summer. That's pretty good pay for hanging with a bunch of great guys and serving your country."

Something about the sales pitch got to Garrett. Or maybe he was just pissed enough at his mother he decided to get away for a while. Whatever caused him to make the decision is unknown, but he said, "You know, I think I'll do it. Gramps and I have talked about the army before and he thinks it's a good deal."

"Great. I have my papers in the car outside if you want to come with me. We can get started today, then. When I have your appointments made for the tests and physical I'll take you to them. If you pass, we'll get you a report date and you'll be all set. Until you report for Basic, you'll join your unit for the monthly meetings, but won't be eligible to deploy if they are called up."

Garrett's test (ASVAB—a test to determine his ability to do various jobs in the military, one that helps place him in a Military Occupational Specialty or MOS) went exceedingly well. He was a prime physical specimen, so the physical detected no problems either.

After he obtained the results of the physical and ASVAB test the recruiter was very upbeat. He called Garrett and said, "Garrett, you can almost write your own ticket in the Guard. You have a great score on the test and I can put you in almost any MOS we have open. I have units that need aircraft mechanics, wheeled vehicle mechanics, supply clerks, even medics. You tell me what you are interested in and I can probably find you a position."

"I just want to be a soldier. You got any infantry positions open?"

"Well, yeah, but you don't want to do that. You can have a great job. Hey, I need to fill a medic position in one of the infantry battalions, how about that? You could be in an infantry unit and still get some great training. You could even find a job in your civilian life as an EMT pretty easy after you finish the medical course at Ft. Sam Houston. You'd probably need a little extra training to work on a civilian ambulance, but it would be easy peasy after finishing the school at Ft. Sam."

"I don't know. I never really thought about something like that."

"Look, try it. If you don't like it maybe they'll let you change your job to something else, but with a score like yours this is a no brainer for you. Hell, it even comes with a small enlistment bonus because they really need medics."

"Ok, lets do it. Where do I sign?"

Garrett signed the papers and reported to his Basic Training the last week of August. He was a natural. He had been tromping through the woods since he was a small boy so could move quietly and knew how to camouflage himself so the wild animals he hunted didn't see him. He could camp and navigate well and he shot like the legendary Daniel Boon.

Perhaps the only problem Garrett had in Basic Training was that it came too easy for him. He didn't make a lot of friends when he told his fellow trainee's, "Man, you guys need to stop your bitching. This is the easiest money I've ever made. Where else can you get paid to tromp around in the woods and shoot rifles and blow things up? Hell, I thought the PT (Physical Training) was going to be tough at least, but this stuff is a piece of cake.

Garrett learned his skills well and graduated, albeit not too high in the standings because of his penchant to slough off every chance he got. He didn't mind the work but why exert yourself if you don't have to?

After Basic he was sent straight to his Advanced Individual Training as a medic. Once again, he passed with no problem academically, but was mired in the middle of the pack score wise because of his tendency to slough off. He did excel in the field portion of the training and the classroom work. Unfortunately, he was not what is known as a self-starter. Someone always had to tell him what to do and when to do it. After he was given a job, though, he did it to the best of his ability and as rapidly as possible. Of course, he did the job fast so he could—you guessed it—slough off.

After the training was completed Garrett returned home and began his new life as a part time soldier. He got back in time to enjoy the summer with his grandfather again. He even got his old job back at the construction company. Now, he felt as if he was set. He had a great part time military job and another great part time civilian job. He could hunt and fish whenever he wanted almost and had more money than he ever had before. Life was good. In fact, the old saying "It don't get no better than this" could have been written for Garrett in his opinion.

CHAPTER 3

On a particularly hot Wednesday evening in late August, Garrett staggered into his home after work to be confronted by his mother. She said, "Garrett, your grandfather died this morning. I guess you need to make arrangements for the old bastards funeral or something."

Garrett walked to the couch and dropped onto it. He stared at his mother in shock not knowing what to do or say. He felt empty. His chest constricted and it became hard to breathe. He tried to talk but couldn't get any words out. Almost as soon as he sat on the couch his mother began screaming, "Damn it, Garrett, get your filthy ass off my furniture. You know better than to sit on the furniture in your work clothes. Now get upstairs and clean up. Supper will be ready in ten minutes. We won't wait on you."

Garrett felt a surge of anger rise anew to feed the one he felt when his mother told him his grandfather was dead in such a manner. He was also angry because he died that morning and she didn't even call him at work to tell him.

Garrett's face got red and he almost jumped to his feet. He opened his mouth to berate his mother for her attitude but she beat him to the punch, once again letting her bitch out. "Don't you get an attitude with me! You know the rules in this house. After you're cleaned up and we eat you need to call Barker's Funeral Home to make the arrangements."

"Why didn't you even call me at work, mom?"

"You didn't need the distraction. You need that money to help with expenses around here. I'm going to have to have at least $100 per week from now on in addition to the things you buy just to make ends meet since that old bastard died. That's what he was giving me for Beatrice and I'm sure that'll stop now. I'll also probably have to find some way to get more money from his estate or your trust funds."

About that time Beatrice came waltzing into the room. She was dressed to kill, her makeup flawless. Bea looked at her mother and brother and said, "What're you doing in here, mom? You know I have to get over to Rebecca's. We're going to the show and I can't be late. Isn't supper ready yet?"

Garrett knew she didn't care any more for his grandfather than did his mother, but her callous attitude pissed him off. He turned toward Beatrice and said, "Why don't you just shut up? Grandpa's dead and all you can think about is being late to go out with your friends? You really are a selfish bitch aren't you?''

Beatrice turned to fully face Garrett and snarled, "You fucking asshole. What business is it of yours if I go out with my friends or not? Besides, maybe now the selfish old goat's gone we can get some of his money and live better."

Garrett looked at his mother, but she didn't say anything so he turned back to face Beatrice and said, "You know, you're right. It's none of my business what you do and I really don't care. I'm outta here."

Garrett rushed upstairs leaving the two women with shocked expressions on their faces. He quickly took a shower then went into his room. He packed most of his clothes into an old Army Duffel Bag and lugged it downstairs. He sat the bag beside the door and went back upstairs for his computer and some important papers. Just before he went out the door to load his belongings into his truck he heard his mother and sister laughing in the kitchen as their utensils clanked and scraped on their plates.

Garrett took his first load out to his truck and returned for his clothes. As he was leaving the second time he let the door slam. Before he got into his truck his mother was at the door glaring at him. She said, "Damn it, Garrett. You know better than to slam the doors. Now get your ass back here and close this door correctly. And where the hell do you think you're going anyway?"

Garrett looked at his mother and said, "I don't know where I'm going, but I'm sure not staying here any longer." He climbed into his truck, started it, and drove off while his mother stared after him.

Garrett went to the small bar and grill the construction crews frequented. When he walked in there were several people he worked with or knew from his infrequent visits in the past. Almost all of them offered their condolences for his grandfather's death. Several of them asked why he was there. Garrett said, "I had to get out of the house. I've finally had it with mom and Bea. They didn't even tell me about gramps until I got home, then, in the same sentence, mom demanded $100 a week for expenses in addition to what I have been giving her. She said now he was gone he wouldn't be giving her money for Bea and I would have to step up. She's already trying to find a way to access some trust funds we own and get money from them.

"Now, I don't mind helping out. In fact I have been buying my own clothes and so forth since I got out of high school. I even help with food but she could have waited at least until after the funeral. Then, on top of that, she said I needed to take care of all the arrangements and she called him all sorts of names. Bea was there and she was just as bad. All she cared about was eating so she and her friends could go out. When I left they were in the dining room laughing and joking while they ate supper. I just stopped in here for a burger before I go over to the funeral home and take care of things."

Kathy Wilson, his supervisor's daughter, came up and hugged him then said, "Oh, Garrett, I'm so sorry. We all just heard about your grandfather. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know. Come on over and sit with us while you get your supper."

Garrett began to unwind as he ate and listened to his friends talk. Kathy and a couple of the girlfriends sat more or less to the side by themselves but they did make a comment every so often in the general conversation. Garrett found himself wishing his family was more like these work acquaintances. He couldn't really call them friends yet, but he felt as if some of them, at least, could become friends.

After he finished his meal, Garrett pushed his chair back and started to rise. Bill looked up and said, "Hey, where you off to so early, Garrett? You tired of our company already?"

"No, Bill, I just have things I have to do before it gets too late. Mom is making me take care of the arrangements for gramps and I have to find a place to sleep before it gets too late."

Kathy looked up at that and asked, "What do you mean you have to find a place to sleep? I thought you still lived with your mom and sister."

"Yeah, well, I guess I sortta burned that bridge when I left this evening. I suppose I'll go over to gramps and stay there for a while. At least until I find somewhere else or I get kicked out. Bill, I guess it's ok to miss work the rest of the week isn't it?"

"Hell, yeah. Don't sweat it. If you need more time give me a call Sunday night or early Monday and we'll work something out. Let us know where and when the services are, too, please."

They laid Jerome Mans to rest Saturday in the local cemetery beside his wife. To Garrett's surprise, Wilma came. Not surprisingly, though, Beatrice did not. After the service, Wilma cornered Garrett and said, "I called Jerome's attorney Thursday to find out about his estate and he wouldn't tell me anything about it. Do you know what's going on with it?"

"No. I haven't heard anything and, unlike you, I've had more important things to take care of." Garrett turned and walked away.

Just before Garrett got into his truck Wilma yelled, "Hey, Garrett. Where are you staying? I really need to know how to find you if I need something. Oh, yes, I haven't received your payment yet for the last week's food and rent, either. When will you be giving it to me?"

Garrett stopped and looked back at Wilma, his whole body cringing as he anticipated her reaction to what he was about to say. "I'm staying in gramps house right now. As for the money, I don't intend to send you any. I am not living with you any longer and I'll need all I make to pay my own living expenses and college tuition."

"What! You know I told you I expected another $100 per week now so I can make ends meet and buy the things Beatrice needs. I'm sorry, honey, but that is the minimum I can take from you."

Garrett just looked at her, then climbed into his trusty old truck and left. He was amazed at her reaction.

Monday evening Wilma met him at Gramps house when he got home from work. She got out of her car and walked up to his truck. As soon as he opened his door she said, "I came for the $100 you owe. We really can't wait any longer for it." Before Garrett could say anything she raised her hand and rushed on, saying, "I know, you're not living with me any longer. No problem. You are still living in my house, though, so the rent on this place is $125 per week, payable in advance. You can pay by the month if you prefer."

"Bullshit. I told you I need all I make to get by. You'll have to find someone else to support you. Besides, this isn't your house. We don't know whose it is right now, but as I understand the laws of inheritance it will never be yours to either rent or sell. It should go to either me or Beatrice or both of us. In either case, you aren't due any rent. What say we let the courts decide."

"Damn it, Garrett, I need more money to live on. It wouldn't hurt you to give us some. If you moved back home we could make it easily on what we both make. I know you make good money in the Guard and you still work part time at that construction company. You could spare us some to help out, you know."

"Nope, sorry, mom, not gonna happen. I have the expense of living here and I still have to pay for my college. That isn't cheap let me tell you. Or were you going to do the parent thing and pay for the college for me?" Garrett closed and locked his truck and stepped around his seething mother. He went into the house and closed the door in her face, making sure it was locked when he did so.

On Friday of the following week Garrett got a phone call from Wilma. She said, "Garrett, you and Beatrice have a letter from Jerome's attorney here. They want you and her to come to a reading of the will next Wednesday at ten a.m. in their offices. I haven't received my letter, yet. I hope I get it soon because your letter and Beatrice's didn't tell me squat about the estate or distribution."

"You mean you opened my letter and read it?"

"Well, yes. Why wouldn't I? I'm your mother and have to take care of your business for you."

"Well, maybe because it was addressed to me and you're not supposed to open other people's mail? I'll be over after work to get it."

"Well, I don't have it any longer. I hired an attorney to represent us so we don't get screwed. I gave the letters to him."

That pissed Garrett off and he jumped into his truck for a quick trip to the local post office. He rented a post office box for himself and put in a change of address so Wilma couldn't open his mail any longer.

Garrett arrived at the attorney's office on the appointed date and time for the reading of the will. Wilma and Beatrice were both already there with the attorney they hired. Wilma glared at him when he entered and Beatrice ignored him as she usually did.

Exactly on time they were called back to the conference room for the reading of the will. The first thing the attorney did was verify identities, then he opened a folder filled with papers. He said, "This meeting is to make provisions for the distribution of the estate of Jerome Mans, deceased.

"All legal debts are to be paid from the balance of the estate before the remainder is distributed to the survivors as directed by him in his will. After the final bills are paid and any and all valid debts paid, the estate will be distributed as directed by the will. Before his death, Jerome did execute some Transfer On Death deeds that affect some of his property. Beatrice Mans will receive the house and 20 acres immediately surrounding it per the enclosed survey (he handed Wilma and Garrett a folder). Garrett Mans will receive the remainder of the farmland and the property located at 3 Main St, Stella, Mo, formerly known as the Bank of Stella, as well as any and all contents of that building. Any remaining cash in bank accounts and all investments remaining, other than those also Transferred On Death, after paying all bills, will be divided equally between Beatrice and Garrett Mans. The real property does not have to go through probate because Mr. Mans executed a Transfer On Death deed some years ago to directly transfer the property to his designated inheritors. The bank accounts and personal property do have to be probated, however, the value of those items is minimal."

The attorney looked up at each of the three in attendance and asked, "Are there any questions?"

Wilma, who was red in the face, said, "Yes, there is. I didn't hear anything in that will about me. What do I get?"

"Nothing at all I'm afraid, ma'am. You are of no blood relation to Mr. Mans and he did not elect to provide for you in his will, therefore, you receive nothing from his estate. As you heard, the entire estate goes to your daughter and son. The house and land your daughter inherited is to be held in trust for her until such time as she is legally an adult. This office is her trustee."

"That's preposterous! He can't do that. I won't allow it."

"I'm afraid he can and he did, ma'am. It is your legal right to contest the will, but I warn you it will stand, and by contesting you will merely reduce the amount your children receive because of added legal and court costs. Is that really what you want for them?"

"NO. We need all we can get to live. Wait, you say the house belongs to Beatrice? What about rent? Can she rent it and if so will you pay the rent money to us so we can live on it?"

"Yes, I suppose that could be arranged, but since it would be her money we would have to insure it was used solely for her benefit."

"Well, fine. Garrett has been living in the house now since his grandfather died. He has refused to pay me any rent on the place. I demand you take $125 per week from his inheritance and pay it to me for rent on the place."

The attorney looked shocked. He turned toward Garrett and said, "Is that so, Garrett? Did you move into the house and agree to the rent?"

"I did move into the house the night Grandpa died. I never agreed to any kind of rent. Mom demanded $100 a week for me to live at home. I was already buying most of the food and paying my own expenses so I believed that was asking too much. She and Bea were such greedy bitches I decided to leave. Since the house was empty and I had nowhere else to go I moved in there."

"I'm sorry, son, but you didn't really have the authority to do that. Your mother is right. Since the house is technically your sister's you either need to vacate the premises or pay rent. I will do some research to determine fair market value and let you know how much to pay."