Daniel Schuester

His fingernails parted chunks of his wavy auburn undercut when his head dipped into his hand. He'd have chewed them away by now as always if it wasn't for focusing from eyes to occipital bone on two court sessions and the interminable night in his home office not lifting a pen from paperwork.

The clock beamed 7. He aimed to finish soon so he could take some time for himself before bed, though he knew it was fat chance. He couldn't stop sighing and eyeing the mound of scratch paper on the corner of his smothered desk, the mound of songs he'd hoped to create in the spare time he never seemed to have.

A foot away from his stack of unwritten lyrics sat photos of four people he knew little about.

Emma, his mother in her best spring dress and a white cardigan with a long pearl necklace, which her wavy river of cinnamon red hair alinged with perfectly. Will, his father with his signature music teacher and principal look - tie tucked into a corduroy vest, a pair of Levi's lightly draping his penny loafers, and curly top of dirty brown hair. The way the two held each other confirmed the common talk that they couldn't bear life without one another and their union had been their miracle. Since his mother and father had joined one another in tragic death following their sixth marital anniversary, he would imagine their relationship and be amazed. The gentle hold of his mother and the cheeky, overly amiable grin of his father had inspired weekly, often nightly, dreams of how life would and should have been for each other and the new Schuester family - Will, Emma, and a then five-year-old Daniel.

Finally, his paternal grandparents, who appeared to have forced affection for the five seconds it takes to shoot a photo. The alcohol-bearing folks were a mess from the inside out, and had failed to conceal so, up to their multifactored deaths. Fourteen years of living in their care had been like a smack in the face from the ropes of adulthood. Daniel recalled once sitting to eat his macaroni and cheese dinner on the living room rug because of a broken table leg and even a 911 call he'd scurried to make due to a house fire, resulting from their drunken fights. He'd learned to care for himself during his giddy grandmother's long days of reality TV, mental breakdowns, and giggly hangovers and his grandfather's even longer days selling casualty and property insurance. As his grandfather developed cirrhosis, he'd decided to sit Daniel down to have a talk about his errors and how he was never be the father and provider that he ached to be and how his choices prevented him from following his dreams of law school. Daniel would be sent off with a bank account filled with years of his grandfather's secret savings for his nineteenth birthday. Rumor had it his grandfather had overdosed from the grief of seeing his happily married and stable son lose everything he'd worked for, guilt of failing both his son and grandson, and the realization of his own failed marriage and guttered dreams. The paramount words Daniel took from the situation and his grandfather's preaching insisted he devoted his time to law school, create a wealthy life for his future family, and do justice for the sake of his grandfather and the line of family who he did not know but was sure had good nature.

He felt his mother and father watching him in this circus life. At this moment they were probably hoping he could get around to the songwriting sometime. Feelings of pride and encouragement to follow his personal goals from his parents, whether concocted or real, were often the only things that connected him to them.

"Thank you for calling...

"14751 Edgewood Drive, Apt. 192. See me anytime after 10 AM tomorrow.

"Noon is great. Yes, have a good night."

He placed his work phone to the desk. The call was unlike any other call, simply another client or his landlord seeking to pick up rent. It was not enough of a break from the work, so he began to pace to his office windows. With a sigh he found himself out of his office, leaving the apartment and now leaning on a deck rail.

Daniel would have been neurotic about the dew and small cobweb his sleeve had come into contact with - if it weren't for his focusing on the neighbors. There was a wooden plinth near the open kitchen window and a rope swing that the man had built on his porch across the street, mainly for his two sons and youngest daughter. The man was watching as the youngest climbed the plinth for her Captain America juice cup and playfully jumped off and as the boys piled on the drenched swing while begging the teenage daughter to continue pushing them.

"You're crushing me, poophead!"

"But it's fun crushing you!"

The big laugh Daniel imagined coming from the toddler daughter put a smile on his own face, bigger than the grin that the comic attitude of the boys gave him.

The man was happy. His wife appeared from behind the opening door with her phone ready to take a millionth photo, and she was happy, too.

Daniel crossed his arms, turning red from the glee.

Moments sweet as these, and even the moments Daniel cringed trying to concentrate on paperwork or studying during the echoes of tantrums or blaring pop music, he would have the notion that possibly having children would fire up his emotions and make him feel significant. Though, he never considered it; never considered considering it. He was twenty-five. Wasn't married. Lived in an unproportionate apartment with two bedrooms, large closet, office, yet a small living and dining area, even smaller kitchen, poor A/C, and a hole in the ceiling above the tub from a previous infestation. Was still in school every fall and worked as secretary and apprentice to who was claimed the worst lawyer in Ohio. He didn't believe he was ready or possessed what it takes to care for another human, or many, especially if he could barely manage his own child-parent grief and personal life. He just may not have been cut out for the whole family thing; some people simply aren't.

Also, who knew? Those were simply living, animate photos of people he barely knew. He saw these moments but had never seen how perfect and how high the family's standards were on the inside of their home. Their home was a house, appearing a happy house with no repercussions of failed or dead family lingering and definitely no opportunities to feel lonely or unneeded or inadequate. Those parents were committed, stable in finance and health, and they were needed and had the time to fulfill those needs.