The screen shouldn't have remained blank.
The cursor blinked, as it had done many times since he had begun his reply.
He had written thousands of emails, maybe hundreds of thousands or more than that, to people of far higher calibers.
Why, then, did this one email intimidate him so?
Dear Kel, he typed.
Backspace. Too formal.
Hey Kel, he modified.
Too informal.
Hi Kel.
Platonic? Did that seem platonic?
Kel.
Yeah, because sending an email to Kelly with no greeting wouldn't be misconstrued whatsoever.
Morning, Kel, he wrote instead.
But it wouldn't be morning for her, would it?
Brandon settled on a Hi, Kelly and then became stuck on the next sentence.
What could he tell her? About the tension that had enveloped the household when Dylan and Brenda had returned from their trip? About Brandon's concern that his mother couldn't be helped? About Valerie entrusting him with another secret that he couldn't even tell Brenda? About Brandon's petrification that Brenda would collapse in the courtroom? How he worried just as much as Dylan did that his niece would be born prematurely?
He couldn't tell Kelly any of that. Those were the sorts of issues Brandon would have told his wife, or at least his girlfriend.
Kelly Taylor was neither his wife, nor his girlfriend.
She was a friend; a close friend, but a friend nevertheless, and his family problems were not for a close friend to bear.
Brandon instead wrote that he was glad Kelly was enjoying her classes, that he had every confidence in her figuring out her Master's thesis. He wrote about work - parts of it, anyway; the parts that he could tell Kelly. He wrote of the positive feedback Brenda had received from her team, that they all thought Brenda was well on her way to no longer requiring Alina's help. He informed Kelly that the hearing had been pushed back for the final time.
He did not tell her that Dylan was no more pleased about Brenda facing a court in her thirty-fifth week than he had been of her thirty-third.
"They might as well push it past her fortieth, at this rate," he had told Brandon. "Give us a better chance of not having my kid born in a fucking courtroom."
Dylan had certainly been testier than Brandon had seen in a while.
Nearly a week had come and gone before Brandon had persuaded Dylan to talk to him about it, with Dylan's only response being that he may have pushed Brenda a little too far.
"She's considering taking a step back from König until after the case," Dylan had said. "Told him earlier this week. Cancelled their date last night to hang out with Val and Clare instead."
"Well, that's good," said Brandon. "Isn't it?"
"Not when she's considering taking a step back from me, too," said Dylan.
"How much of a step back can she take?" Brandon had asked.
"Enough for me to wonder if I should bring out the air mattress before she does," said Dylan. "I knew I took it too far. I scared her off. I shouldn't've listened to my therapist, or to Nat, but I won't lie to Brenda and let her think I'm taking back what I said. Because I don't take it back. At all."
"What did you say?" asked Brandon.
Dylan wouldn't answer.
Brenda hadn't been scared off, Brandon was told directly from the source.
"Dylan wants to be with me," said Brenda. "He said he's in love with me and that he wants us to be a real family, in every sense of the word."
"He told you that at the hospital, too," said Brandon.
"Yes, but it's the way he told me," said Brenda. "I didn't realize how painful this has been for him. All this time. Every time Dylan saw me with Luca, he was hurting. I asked Dylan into my bed, Brandon. I invited him to live with us. I showered with him; sort of. I led him into a lake. We've danced so many times, I've lost count. Have I spent months giving Dylan false hope that we might get back together? Should I have held onto my anger so that he wouldn't've had a chance for physical contact?"
"Is it false hope?" Brandon had asked. "Is Dylan sprinting toward a dream you don't share?"
Brenda hadn't responded, but she had asked Brandon if he thought she might love Dylan in the romantic sense.
"Didn't you ask Val this? And Steve?" asked Brandon, understanding from the people in question that Brenda had.
"I may have," said Brenda. "Why?"
"Because if you have to ask the two people you've known forever if you love someone, Brenda, then you already know the answer."
"Can I love someone who has so easily lied about me? What if he lies again? What if I lie to him? We've both cheated on each other. What if we keep doing it? What if we get married, get into a horrible fight, and then divorce? Dylan grew up with parents who could barely tolerate each other. I don't want my daughter growing up like that, thinking we're forcing her to be in the middle."
"That's a lot of what-ifs to bank your life on," said Brandon.
He understood all too well how the what-ifs could become a plague. It had been an assortment of what-ifs that had launched his plan into place, a plan that had nearly kept Dylan from knowing about his daughter.
"Have you talked to Dylan about your concerns?" asked Brandon. "He'd be the first to tell you that it's impossible for you to become intolerant of each other."
"I would hurt him more," said Brenda. "Dylan is adamant that he's in this for the long haul, even if I turn him down. It isn't just about her, and it isn't just about me. It's the three of us, the future he thinks we can build together."
"I wondered those what-ifs, too," said Brandon. "If it's the tiniest bit possible that you do love Dylan, and it is or you wouldn't be asking, then you shouldn't let the what-ifs prevent you from snatching the future that could make you deliriously happy."
"I can't love him," Brenda switched tactics. "Not like that. I'd rather hurt him by rejecting him because I don't love him than hurt him by giving Jim a reason to continuously target the man I love. Jim only threatened Dylan because I loved him. Jim's only threatening Dylan now because I loved him. What threat will Jim come up with next if he thinks I might love Dylan again?"
"What Jim does is on him," said Brandon. "No one else. You need to stop blaming yourself, Bren. It isn't good for you, and it isn't good for your baby."
"That's easier said than done, Bran. If only I could be sure if Hong Kong -"
Brenda had interrupted herself with a yarn of expletives.
Brandon had caught Brenda as she lurched forward. She had complained of a desperate urge to use the restroom, yet had been unable to walk towards it due to a severe charley horse on her leg.
Telling Brenda to lean on him, Brandon had helped her into the bathroom just as Dylan arrived.
Dylan had asked Brenda to describe her symptoms, which Brandon assumed must have been terrible the way Brenda wobbled against Dylan whilst he lowered her jeans.
Brandon had stayed nearby to be of use, but at enough of a distance to avoid making either himself or Brenda uncomfortable.
"She can't come yet," said Brenda, muffled in Dylan's shirt. "Not yet. She - she still needs to grow. We don't," Brenda had hiccupped, "the crib hasn't arrived."
"There's just a little blood." Though Dylan had put on a good show, Brandon had spotted the petrification interwoven in his voice. "I don't think there's anything for us to worry about, but if you want, we can contact the midwife to be sure."
"I'll call her," Brenda had said.
"I'll call her," said Dylan.
It had been Brandon who called. His fingers had quivered as he tapped out wrong number after wrong number.
Brenda had begun to lose her mucus plug, said the midwife. It was perfectly normal, she assured. There would be cause for concern if Brenda's discharge brought about an excess of blood or if her amniotic sac tore open, but the cramps she was experiencing were not of concern.
There was a girl at the clinic who lost her mucus plug before her thirty-fourth week, said Kelly's email. She went right into labor. Bren didn't, did she?
She had not, said Brandon.
But the fear of it must have seared into Dylan's and Brenda's psyches, for after that, no one would have known that they had faced a strain of charring tension between them.
In fact, Nat and Iris became all the more convinced that it was only a matter of time until the two reunited for what Nat claimed would be the final time.
"My grandbaby takes after her Nana," said Iris. "She knows that all she has to do is cause a bit of a kerfuffle to engineer her parents' reunion."
"Not too much of a kerfuffle, I hope," said Nat. "I may be helping to speed this along and trying anything I can to get my kids back together who have more iron in their veins than sense, but I don't think this ticker can handle another scare."
"Scare," said Cindy. "She was scared."
Brandon asked his mother who was scared.
"Ran," said Cindy. "They said to run."
"Who said to run?" asked Brandon. "What were you running from? Was Abby with you?"
Cindy shook off whatever she had been close to recalling and engaged in light chatter with her contemporaries.
It soon became clear that Brenda's pelvic pain had increased, whilst her ability to comfortably breathe had improved.
Her appetite had increased tenfold, as her heartburn had decreased. Her blood pressure continued to read as stable, though Brenda's OB had advised ramping up her appointments. Her regimen had gone from daily doses to twice a week doses, with Brenda's doctor believing that Brenda stood on the precipice of only requiring her regimen once a week.
Brandon and Valerie had accompanied Brenda to her thirty-three week scan, at Brenda's last-minute request when Dylan's lunch with a prospective editor had run over and Brenda had insisted he not cut it short for her.
Dylan had bolted into the scan just in time to see their baby open her eyes.
Brenda had clasped Dylan's hand and laid her head on his chest. Dylan had buried his chin in Brenda's hair.
They had both stayed fixated on the screen, discussing possible baby names as Brandon and Valerie had quietly snuck out.
Not before Valerie had insisted to Brenda that Val's niece not be called Ginger.
"She didn't even know Ginger," said Val. "Why would Bren even mention her name?"
"It's the tea," said Brandon. "Too much ginger tea. Went straight to Bren's head. Now she's thinking of naming her kid after tea. This only proves that tea does weird things to people. Whatever happened to Ginger, anyway?"
"Who knows, who cares," said Val. "Bren doesn't know how lucky she is to have someone love her that much." Valerie watched through the crack in the blinds that hid the exam room from view. "I knew, Brandon. I knew from the first time I brought Bren up to Dylan about how much he loved her, even when he sought like hell to deny it, like he couldn't possibly love someone long-distance. I thought maybe he could learn to love me that way. Maybe you could. Maybe Colin could."
Aware of the sensitivity in Brandon that Colin Robbins' name evoked, Valerie plunged ahead.
"Tom did," she said. "He loved me that way, but…"
"But what?" Brandon asked.
"But he was a reminder of Buffalo," said Val. "Noah could've loved me like that, if I hadn't torpedoed what we had by letting Cooper have a shot, all because he was rich and I thought Noah wasn't."
"What about Silver?" asked Brandon.
"David loves Donna like that," said Val. "Not me. I was just playtime until he could be with who he really wanted."
"Not from where I'm standing," said Brandon.
Valerie had continued to observe the expectant parents.
"Did you love Kelly like that?" she asked.
"I think you're vastly underestimating how much you mean to Silver," said Brandon.
Valerie had pressed her back to the wall.
"There's something I should've done last year," said Val. "Twice, actually. I've put it off twice. I told myself I would get to it when I had time, and then when Bren didn't need me, when I could completely focus on me, but now it's been almost a year since the first one and I really ought to stop putting this off."
Do what, Brandon had asked.
It was then Valerie confided in him of her first HIV test, and that she had held off on the two follow-up tests she should have taken.
"You thought you had HIV?" asked Brandon. "You didn't think you could tell me?"
"You were knee-deep in wedding preparations," said Val. "I took the test the very same day of your non-wedding. How could I tell you?"
"Valerie, you can tell me anything. Even if it was a quick pull to the side, a quick 'I've got to go get checked out.' I don't want you to think you can't trust me."
"It wasn't you I couldn't trust, Bran. It was myself. I didn't want to cause a big stir if I wasn't positive. I'd already been accused of crying wolf."
"I'm sorry I didn't believe you sooner that you had slept with Noah against your will," said Brandon.
"Was it against my will?" asked Val passively. "Noah said I smiled. Maybe he was right all along. Maybe I did secretly want it."
"Stop it," said Brandon. "You were roofied. Josh roofied you and Noah took advantage of that. Noah not knowing the situation doesn't change anything, Val. So what if he was drunk. So what if he couldn't pay attention to the fact that you were obviously unwell. He raped you and none of us except Silver believed you. You were right. I did have my doubts. I didn't want to face it, but I did. And still, after all that, you didn't hesitate to fly here when I asked for your help. That's something I'm gonna have to live with the rest of my life."
"Why did David believe me, Brandon? Why? Why out of everyone, was he the one who believed I wouldn't cheat on him, even after everything I did to him?"
"The same reason David decided to stick around when he realized you were here," said Brandon. "He could have flown off months ago, but he didn't. Ask yourself why, and for once, Val; don't question it."
Brandon had gone with Valerie to schedule the test, but when it came time for her appointment, he had called David to sit beside her.
Brenda had tested for group B strep, as Valerie had tested for HIV. Brandon had done his best to distract himself from fretting over either test.
He now knew one of Val's secrets; two, since no one but he and David knew of what Valerie had nearly done their senior year.
If Valerie had kept a potential HIV diagnosis secret, Brandon dreaded what else she hadn't said.
He could tell Kelly about seeing his niece's eyes open. He couldn't tell her about Valerie.
Brandon sent the message into the wires of cyberspace and returned to his research.
An icon lit up on his taskbar.
Brandon, you should know by now that I don't need to read between the lines to know when you're masking something, said the chat window.
Hey, Kel, he typed. Did you hear Steve and Clare got back together?
There had never been an official announcement made to the group, but Steve had told Brandon the morning after.
Largely because Steve had needed advice, which he had felt certain Brandon could give.
"What do you mean, you've never had trouble performing?" Steve had asked.
"I mean, I've never had trouble performing," said Brandon. "If you couldn't get it up for Clare, then you might want to get checked out."
"It's probably better we didn't," Steve had said. "She couldn't make excuses and pretend it wouldn't've happened if we hadn't been drinking. I almost feel bad for Kai. She didn't think of him once."
"Because Clare and Kai were never together," said Val. "He's gay, Steve."
"I knew that," said Steve. "Didn't I tell you all that? And yet you insisted that Clare would end up marrying him." He had tossed the box of cereal towards Val, who caught it. "How much of that did you hear?"
"Steve Sanders couldn't perform," said Val.
Steve had dunked his face into the fruit bowl that had been carefully arranged by Brenda.
They called to tell us, said the message from Kelly. I like Janet and I liked Carly, but of course Don and I are thrilled our old roomie is back with Steve. Already had to stop Donna from sending Clare fabric samples.
Just as long as Don isn't planning to use those with Noah, replied Brandon.
They broke up. Last night, after a long talk with Bren. Donna swears up and down she's done with him. Finally.
My boy D'Shawn has a chance, then?
Don's distancing herself, for now. She doesn't want to jump straight from one relationship to the next. How about Bren? How's she doing?
Waddling all over the place, but doing well, said Brandon. Don't know how she's going to be able to sit in a courtroom. She isn't supposed to be in the same position for more than half an hour, and I doubt they'll let us bring pillows into court.
You could ask. But it isn't Bren's seating you're most worried about, is it?
Okay, Miss Psychoanalyst. You got me.
You're worried about failing her.
If Bren can't prove her capability in the court, then it's up to me to prove I'm capable of taking care of her.
You are capable, Bran.
I don't feel it, Kel. I can't even help my mom. I'm starting to wonder if my father is the only one who can help her, and she refuses to talk to him unless he gives up this case.
I'm sorry your family is going through this, Brandon. If there's anything I can do to help…
Can you rewind time? Brandon wanted to ask, but he merely sent a thank you in return.
Dylan and Brandon both sought to cling to a smidgen of optimism so as to avoid worrying Brenda.
Accompanied by Valerie, the trio met with Dylan's lawyers to address Brenda's concerns of how she should respond in the courtroom.
"They'll throw every roadblock they can at you," said Merle Hagerty, a respectable man of enormous intelligence who had been the attorney for Jack's grandfather long before he had been permanently hired on by the McKay family. "They will have asked to see your medical records and may be aware of the situations that will affect you the most. You'll need to be on your guard."
"Dylan will be with me," said Brenda. "He'll help me."
"'Til your fine ass puts me in the ground," said Dylan as he kissed Brenda's knuckle.
It was Dylan who first noticed that Brenda had begun to carry lower, during the middle of her thirty-fourth week and following two negative results.
Brenda was free of strep B. Valerie continued to stay free of HIV.
"She dropped," Dylan announced upon his and Brenda's return from their driving lesson.
Driving lessons took place on every third day, the days when Brenda didn't have to go into the studio.
Dylan had started nudging Brenda about working less, or at least travelling by bus less, but Brenda had not yet caught on.
"Dropped what?" asked Steve. "The keys? Keys are slippery. They're easy to drop."
"He means the baby dropped," said David.
"How do you figure?" asked Valerie.
"Bren's belly," said Clare. "It was riding higher yesterday, wasn't it?"
"Did Bren's driving frighten their kid into dropping?" asked Steve.
"That better be a joke, Steve," said Brenda, who was not in the least bit amused.
"It is," said Steve.
His eyes contradicted his assurance.
"I've need of a wee," said Brenda.
"Wee wee," said Steve. "That's French; isn't it, Clare?"
Dylan rolled up a newspaper and bopped Steve on the head with it.
"Hey!" said Steve.
"No jokes," said Dylan. "Bren's feeling a lot of discomfort right now and she doesn't need you joking around, no matter how well-intentioned it is."
"It is well-intentioned," said Brenda as she waddled in. "I know that."
Clare and Valerie asked Brenda what it felt like now that the baby had dropped into position.
"Like I have to keep my legs apart, or I'll squeeze her head," said Brenda. "And yes, I'm aware of how irrational that sounds. I just didn't expect to get that feeling whilst I was trying to drive."
"Successfully driving," said Dylan. "Bren might be able to go for her license again soon."
"Dylan isn't counting how I almost missed a stoplight," said Brenda.
"We can blame that on the sudden weight on your pubic bone," said Dylan.
"Please don't talk about my sister's pubic bone," said Brandon.
He shouldn't have said anything, teasingly or otherwise, as Valerie took that as the cue to talk about hers.
Brenda's discomfort didn't prevent Dylan from unabashedly resting his face on her pelvic area. "Any day now, Bren." Dylan kissed the seam of her shorts. "Any day."
Brandon should have been repulsed by Dylan's lips touching his sister's shorts in front of them, or how Dylan then lightly palpated the part of Brenda's shorts that caused Brandon to angle himself towards anyone else.
He would have been repulsed, had Brandon not been inwardly questioning if he would have done the same had Kelly also progressed to their baby's head dropping into the pelvic area as Kelly's body prepared for labor.
It was hardly a question, since Brandon knew almost instantly that he would have acted exactly the same as Dylan without giving the tiniest consideration to propriety.
"Don't let her hear that," said Brenda. "If she won't stay in for another six weeks, she should at least stay in for half. You and David have put in too much work into the shop for her to make you miss this music festival. You should have a little fun before we get dragged into court."
"I don't care about the festival," said Dylan. "Silver can go alone."
"Clare and I will go," said Steve, squeezing his arm around Clare.
"We will?" asked Clare.
"Can't let Silver meet all those cool bands without me making some introductions," said Steve. "Val and Brando can come along, too."
"An excellent idea," said Dylan.
"So basically, everyone but Dylan and I?" asked Brenda.
"Would you look at that," said Dylan.
"Not everyone," said Steve. "The parents will still be around."
The parents chose that weekend to take a drive through the country, which Iris said would be therapeutic for Cindy.
"What do you know about your mother's music taste?" asked Iris.
"She likes a lot of soft rock," said Brandon. "Smooth jazz. That kind of thing. Aunt Paula claimed once that Mom used to go to rock music festivals, but Aunt Paula likes to make up stories to make my parents seem cooler than they are."
"Your mother reacted rather poorly to a vinyl we found whilst perusing the shops," said Iris. "King Biscuit Boy. It was as if the record had jumped up and slapped her."
"What's King Biscuit Boy?" asked Brandon.
"Some sort of musician," said Iris.
In the blues genre, said David, before listing off to Brandon the seventies music festivals where King Biscuit Boy had played.
David said there had been discussions amongst the blues fan forums that King Biscuit Boy may be planning to attend the upcoming festival.
That was how Brandon found himself sprawled out in a tent, listening to some of the screechiest bands he had ever had the misfortune to hear, all to speak with a musician who never showed.
But some people like that kind of music, I guess, he wrote to Kelly in what had become their twice-a-week chat.
It was a long shot, thought Brandon as he contacted Paula Edmonds to see if there had been any chance that Cindy had travelled to Bowmanville in Ontario, Canada during the summer of 1970.
"The Strawberry Fields Festival," said Paula. "Oh, of course. Everyone we knew had been talking about it that summer. Cindy and I had planned to go, but I caught a terrible stomach bug and was forced to miss it."
"Did my mother miss it, too?" asked Brandon.
"Cindy wouldn't have missed it for anything," said Paula. "Zeppelin was playing. Melanie, Cactus, Jethro Tull. Sheila and I used to joke that your mother would run off with Glenn Cormick. She was devastated when he was fired from Jethro Tull."
Cindy had invited her college roommate along, who at that point she had been close with for several years.
"Abby Malone," said Brandon.
Albina Gotti then, said Paula.
"Not Gotti as in the Five Families?" asked Brandon.
"Oh, you kids and your Interweb," said Paula.
She asked when she would be allowed to visit Brenda, with Brandon answering that Brenda had asked for the family to come only after the birth of her child.
Brenda had considered making an exception for Bobby, Lottie, and Owen, but decided it would be unfair to the rest of the family.
"Please tell Brenda that we cannot wait to see her and her child," said Paula. "I would've liked to have thrown her a baby shower."
"Bren isn't looking to meet any other new people and to her, you're all new," said Brandon apologetically.
"We understand," said Paula. "Would she feel differently if your father had acted differently?"
"Probably," said Brandon.
He shared the newfound information with Dylan and with David, who were both equally interested in Abby Malone's potential ties to a prominent New York crime family.
Dylan was particularly intrigued by the connection between the Gottis, the Malones, the Walshes, Immo Rawlins, and what it had to do with Brenda's cases.
Paula decided to host a baby shower through packages in the mail, which Brenda sifted through the evening prior to her hearing.
"I think I'm going to give it another try with Dylan," Brenda confided in her brother. She set aside the packages she had been organizing to open with Dylan. "I love him. I trust him. She loves him. She trusts him." Brenda ran her hand back and forth along the seam of her jeans. "Maybe we should see where this can go."
"Are you going to tell him before the hearing?" asked Brandon.
"After," said Brenda. "I'll tell Luca and Dylan after the hearing, just in case we don't win. So pretend I didn't say anything, okay?"
"Your secret's safe with me," said Brandon.
He had planned to pick up Kelly and Donna from the airport, but was dismayed to learn of their unexpected overnight layover due to a rerouting of their flight.
We really wanted to make it to the hearing, Kelly messaged.
Get here when you can, wrote Brandon. I'll try to pick you up.
You might not be able to. Our flight's supposed to come in after the hearing's started.
Then we'll send Steve.
Steve was upset at the idea, as he too had wanted to support Brenda, but it did allow him to wait for Clare's shift to end so that he could bring her into the city.
Brandon almost missed Dylan sauntering over to Jim.
Leaving Brenda to listen to the comforting advice of Nat and Iris, Brandon scurried over to save Dylan from himself.
"You're a real tough guy, aren't you Jim?" asked Dylan.
"You would be wise to keep apart from me, Dylan," said Jim.
"Oh, I will," said Dylan. "Thought I'd ask why you're working with a guy who's supporting the company responsible for your daughter's medical injury. You're letting your hatred for me overpower the love you say you have for your daughter. This guy wants to destroy her, and you're helping him."
"I will destroy you," said Jim, "not Brenda."
"Are you in some kind of trouble, Jim? In over your head? You need money? I can help you. Just end this partnership you have with Rawlins, and I'll help."
"I don't want your help," said Jim. "I want my daughter far away from your grasp, whether that's in Hong Kong or elsewhere."
"Is that why you're working with the fucking New York mafia?" asked Dylan. "The same guys Jack became involved with? Have you been working with them all along? Is that the real reason you hated my father?"
A member of the Gottis had earlier in the decade been convicted of multiple murders, racketeering, exortion, and various other counts after serving as the head of the Gambino crime family.
"This is the guy you have chosen over your father?" Jim asked Brandon. "The boy your mother chose over her husband?"
"I could ask you about the job you chose over your children," said Brandon.
It was almost as if Jim had been slapped by porcupine needles.
Court was called to order.
Brenda sat before the court to expand on Alina's notations of the progress Brenda had made.
The sound of a train rolling by did not affect Brenda's confidence, perhaps because she looked out at Dylan as it did.
Dylan smiled encouragingly.
"Ms. Walsh, do you remember the night your child was conceived?"
Dylan took on the stance of a Secret Service agent blocking a flock of reporters hell-bent on questioning a president's indiscretions.
Brandon set a reassuring hand on Dylan's arm.
Brenda maintained her composure.
"No, I don't," she told Clayton Claiborne.
"Then it is possible Mr. McKay isn't the father of your child and therefore has no claim in your life, isn't it?" said Claiborne.
If all the fantasy writers of the world came together to invent a new mythological creature, Brandon didn't think any of them could invent one adequate enough to describe Dylan's silent, but lethal, response.
He didn't resemble a dragon. A Kraken was too tame. Even a Skoffín may have regarded Claiborne with less venom.
If one's expression could marbleize one's enemies, Claiborne would have already been sold off to an art museum on Dylan's expression alone.
"I," Brenda gave only the tiniest hint of her composure slipping, a hint that would have easily escaped anyone else's notice, "I know he is the father," she said.
"Because he has told you he is," said Claiborne.
"Well yes, but, I - I just know he is."
"Ms. Walsh, if Mr. Silver over there were to tell you that he had fathered your child, would you take him at his word?"
"Objection!" said Hagerty. "Relevance?"
"I am simply trying to show the court that Dylan McKay has been manipulating his ex-girlfriend Brenda Walsh and taking advantage of her medical situation to get her to believe anything he wants her to believe whether it is accurate or manufactured," said Claiborne, nonplussed.
"That's not true!" Brenda shouted.
"Overruled," said the Judge. "You may resume your questioning, Counsel."
"Thank you, Your Honor," said Claiborne. "Ms. Walsh, I repeat the question."
No, she would not take David Silver at his word, Brenda replied haughtily.
"C'mon, baby, keep your composure," Dylan whispered. "Don't let him get to you."
"But that is what you have done with Mr. McKay, is it not?" asked Claiborne. "You have only his word and no proof to back it up."
"Voicemail," said Dylan under his breath. "Tell him about the voicemail."
"There was a voicemail," said Brenda, too far from Dylan to have heard anything he said. "The day of the accident. From me. To Dylan, about our baby. She's his."
"Voicemails can be easily doctored," said Claiborne. "You and Mr. McKay were apart at the time of your accident, weren't you?"
"Are you implying I lied to him?" asked Brenda, a layer of steel infused in her tone. "That I told him she was his to try to get him back?"
"Interesting theory, Ms. Walsh," said Claiborne.
Dylan clenched his teeth.
"That motherfu -"
"I didn't," said Brenda. "I know I didn't. I feel our daughter's love for Dylan every day. Every time she moves, at the sound of his voice or the touch of his lips. I don't need proof to know he is her father."
"That isn't what you told Mr. McKay previously," said Claiborne.
"I'm sorry?" asked Brenda.
"You were heard arguing with Mr. McKay over whether he was the father of your child and, in fact, asked him to prove it."
"I - how -"
"Will you deny it? Ms. Walsh, I remind you you are under oath."
"No, I - I won't deny it, but I - I was angry with him…" Brenda trailed off, visibly flustered.
Claiborne asked the reason for Brenda's anger.
"Because I - I," Brenda shrank into herself and Brandon had to use both hands to hold Dylan down in his seat, "I thought he had lied to me."
"And why did you think he had lied to you?" asked Claiborne.
"He - he had lied about me," Brenda squeaked. "To our - to our friends."
"Then isn't it possible he is lying now?" asked Claiborne. "Isn't it possible he has lied to you this whole time? That he is lying to you about your ability to take care of yourself? That he has paid others to lie to you to make you think your loving father is the villain, when it has been Mr. McKay all along?"
"Objection!" said Hagerty. "Badgering the witness!"
"Sustained," said the Judge. "Wrap it up, Counsel."
"Yes, Your Honor," said Claiborne.
"Dylan wouldn't do that," Brenda enunciated, but Claiborne had made his point and ended his questioning.
Brenda returned to her seat practically in tears.
"It's okay, baby," Dylan soothed as he bundled her into him. "It's okay."
"It's not okay," said Brenda. "I let you down," she sniffled. "I let him eviscerate you."
"He's just trying to rattle you," said Dylan. "Trying to get you to the point where the court can see you falter. He wants the ceiling to crash. He wants you to lose your cool." Dylan brushed his lips across Brenda's forehead and brought his forehead forward to meet hers. "Don't let him. We both know you are more than capable of taking care of yourself."
"I'm not - I'm not even capable of staying strong on the stand," said Brenda. "I couldn't even - I couldn't even protect you."
"He turned your own words against you," said Dylan. "That's what lawyers do. You're not the first to be rattled by one. We don't need Claiborne to believe us. What's important is that we know she's ours. It doesn't matter if Claiborne or anyone else thinks otherwise."
"Don't worry, Bren," said Brandon, "he's not winning that easily."
"Thanks, Bran," said Brenda with a shadow of a smile.
Claiborne called his next witness: a Ms. Valerie Malone.
Brenda immediately lost her smile.
"Ms. Malone," said Claiborne, "you are well-acquainted with Ms. Walsh and Mr. McKay, are you not?"
"You know I am," said Valerie in the silken voice she used to flirt herself out of a sticky situation.
Claiborne would not be swayed.
"You are, in fact, so well-acquainted that Mr. McKay offered you free room and board to help him trick Ms. Walsh into believing he fathered her child?"
"What?" asked Val. "No!"
"You have been given free room and board, yes?"
"I have, but, but the reason you're giving is a blatant lie!"
"Which you yourself have been known to spout on many an occasion," said Claiborne. "There was recently a court case between you and a Mr. Noah Hunter that thoroughly examined your numerous lies, wasn't there?"
It was David's turn to rival mythology.
"You caught me," said Val, "I have lied, about many things, but not about this. You're my sister, Bren. I wouldn't lie to you," she added, looking directly at Brenda.
"Then your sister is aware of your pregnancy?" asked Claiborne.
Valerie blanched until her skin tone appeared to more closely resemble the unripened part of a watermelon.
"What pregnancy?" she asked.
"Twelve weeks, weren't you?" asked Claiborne.
"How the fuck do you know that?" asked Val.
"Ms. Malone!" said the Judge.
"She was pregnant?" asked Brenda, glancing towards David.
"You had a bottle of prenatals you told Mr. McKay belonged to you, isn't that right?" asked Claiborne.
"I again ask how the fuck you know that," said Val.
"Ms. Malone, you will watch your language in my courtroom," said the Judge.
Brandon's questioning followed the same stream.
"These pictures were taken from hospital surveillance," said Claiborne, "where Mr. McKay and Mr. Walsh were spotted in an altercation. Mr. Walsh, can you explain the meaning of that altercation?"
"I don't see what that has to do with whether my sister requires guardianship," said Brandon smoothly.
"Mr. Walsh, answer the question," said the Judge.
"Yes, Your Honor," said Brandon. "Dylan and I were upset with each other," he said. "Our anger had been building, festering for years and it came to a head in the carpar - parking lot."
"The night Ms. Walsh was brought in after a fall, as I understand it," said Claiborne. "It is perplexing that you and Mr. McKay would decide to fight while Ms. Walsh was in the hospital unsure of the wellbeing of her child with Mr. McKay, unless…"
"Unless?" asked Brandon.
"Unless you had something recent to fight about," said Claiborne. "Ms. Malone's prenatals, perhaps? I can tell from Ms. Walsh's face that this is all new to her. Perhaps Ms. Walsh has been a cog in one enormous lie. Perhaps you were upset at Mr. McKay's impregnating both women. Or perhaps the child previously carried by Ms. Malone was Mr. McKay's, and the child carried by Ms. Walsh is not."
Hagerty objected, citing speculation and questioning relevance.
Brandon started to mull over whether the Judge had been bought off when Hagerty's objections were overruled.
"The people who should have been taking care of Brenda Walsh have continuously lied to her," said Claiborne. "If her judgment isn't sound enough to detect when she is being lied to, can she truly care for herself?"
"If you'd permitted my sister to show you how she has progressed, rather than badgered her with irrelevant nonsense intended to discredit Dylan so that your client can get one up over the guy he once threatened, perhaps that would have answered your question," said Brandon.
"Mr. Walsh!" said the Judge.
"No further questions," said Claiborne.
Although Hagerty tried, his cross-examination questions fell short in comparison with the jellyfish sting of Claiborne's.
Brandon glanced towards his father, who avoided Brandon's eyes.
Dylan's call to the stand was halted by an unexpected disturbance.
"I need to leave." Brenda's focus didn't stray from the table as she abruptly pushed back her chair.
"Ms. Walsh, this hearing is not over," said the Judge. "Take your seat."
"I need to leave," Brenda repeated, in a weightier tone.
Dylan put his hand on her shoulder.
Brenda shoved it off.
"I need to leave," she repeated.
"Shit," said Dylan, uttering with Brandon, "the ceiling's crashing."
"Baby, look at me," said Dylan. "Please look at me."
Brenda refused to comply.
"Our baby needs you to look at me," said Dylan.
"Our baby needs her father to stop lying, too, but apparently he's incapable of that," said Brenda.
Taken aback, Dylan asked Hagerty about motioning for a recess.
Neither the Judge nor Claiborne would agree to a recess.
"I need to leave!" said Brenda with greater emphasis.
"Ms. Walsh, if you do not sit down, I will hold you in contempt of court and this hearing will be over," said the Judge.
"This hearing was over the moment I learnt I can't trust anyone in here," said Brenda. "Only myself. I can't depend on anyone but me. And if that means I need a guardian, then so be it."
She power walked out of the courtroom, as much as one could power walk whilst swaying from side to side.
"Bren!" Dylan called out as he and Brandon hurried to catch up with her.
Brenda swiveled around.
"Brenda, I did not knock up Val," said Dylan. "I did not pay her or Brandon to trick you."
"I didn't entertain either of those ridiculous notions for a second," said Brenda.
"Then why," Dylan began.
"When did you find out I was pregnant?" she asked.
"You - you know when I found out," he stuttered.
"I know when you claim to have figured out that you were the father. But that isn't the truth; is it, Dylan?"
"It is the truth," he said. "I didn't figure out I was her father until that night in hospital."
"Did I cheat on you?"
"No!"
"Then why wouldn't you have figured out earlier that she was yours, unless there was a chance she wasn't?"
"I - I," Dylan hung his head.
"Because I cheated on you," said Brenda.
"No," said Valerie, "because Dylan thought I was pregnant."
Sensing Brenda's disbelief, Valerie told her everything.
Everything, including half of the reason she had been upset with David.
Half of the reason, Valerie emphasized, to David's frustration.
"Then you all lied," said Brenda. "All of you. Even you, Brandon."
"I lied," said Brandon. "Dylan didn't."
"He lied when he let me continue believing that he had known about our pregnancy all along," said Brenda.
"I didn't want to come between you and your siblings the way I came between you and Kelly," said Dylan.
"That wasn't for you to decide," said Brenda.
"You relied on them, Bren. You depended on them. They both thought they were doing the best thing for you."
"Jim also thinks he's doing the best thing for me."
"Don't compare what we did to what Jim's doing," said Val. "Brandon and I agreed that when you were ready, when you were stronger, we would tell you and Dylan."
"If I hadn't been ready?" asked Brenda. "If I hadn't been stronger? If I hadn't slipped? Would Dylan have ever known? Would either of us have known?"
"Bren," Dylan started.
"You should have told me," said Brenda.
"We tried to tell you," said Val. "You were adamant that you didn't want to know."
"Because you didn't correct me when I assumed he was a one-night stand tosser!" said Brenda. "But he isn't a tosser. He's just a liar. About everything. Even in his honesty, he lies."
"Don't do this, Bren," Dylan begged. "Don't push me away. We'll talk about it after the hearing. You can scream at me as much as you want. But don't push me away."
Brenda didn't look at Dylan, nor at Jim who waited down the hallway with outstretched arms, prepared to accept the apology of his wayward daughter.
Brenda excused herself to use the toilets.
"I'll go with you," said Val, placing her hand on Brenda's back.
"No." Brenda shrugged off Val's hand.
"Bren," said Val. "I'm sorr -"
"If none of you did things to be sorry over, you wouldn't have to say it all the time," Brenda said over her shoulder. "You can't treat people like puppets and expect them to accept it."
Brenda sashayed behind the swinging door.
To give her privacy and a chance to gather her thoughts, they waited.
Iris and Nat walked Cindy over so that all three could speak with Brandon and Dylan.
"It isn't over," said Nat. "We'll simply explain to the court that Brenda was having some pains and blame it on the Judge's inflexibility to allow someone as heavily pregnant as Brenda to use the restroom."
"Perhaps we should speak with her," Iris suggested to Cindy.
Steve ran in out of breath, asking if they had been dismissed for recess.
"There is no recess," said Val. "We're pretty sure the hearing's over."
"Did we win?" asked Donna.
"Doubt it," said David. "Mr. Walsh's lawyer took a bulldozer to Bren's trust of all of us and she bolted out of the courtroom before the hearing even ended."
"I'm going in there," said Dylan, pushing away from the wall.
"You can't go in there," said Valerie. "Ladies only. Iris and I will go."
"Us too," said Clare. She grabbed Donna's hand, who in turn grabbed Kelly's.
"I don't care if it's ladies only," said Dylan. "If something happened to Bren, or to our baby, I'm going in."
When the women emerged without Brenda, Brandon expected himself to become violently ill.
Though he didn't think himself half as indisposed as Dylan appeared.
"She fell," Dylan guessed in a tone flatter than a hardcover novel.
Valerie shook her head.
"Her water broke?" Dylan guessed again.
"I hope not," said Val, "or Bren's fucked."
"Fucked?" asked Brandon.
"That's it. I'm going in," said Dylan as he made to do just that.
"Dyl," Valerie choked out, "Bren isn't in there."
"What do you mean, isn't in there?" asked Dylan and Brandon, almost in a shout.
"There - there's a door in there," said Clare. "It leads to the back alley and Bren -"
"She's gone," said Donna.
"I'm calling the police," said Dylan as he swiftly took out his phone.
Brandon held out his, to show the text message from Brenda.
Don't look for me, the message said. I'll come home when I'm ready. If I'm ready. If it's home. I had to get out of there before all my progress unraveled. I could feel it unraveling and it can't. It can't unravel.
Maybe Jim's right. Maybe I can't take care of myself.
But I can take care of my daughter and if I sat in that courtroom a second longer, the ceiling would have imploded.
My daughter would have been smashed by the crossfire.
I left for her. She needs to be my priority. No one else.
And I didn't sprint.
I walked into the bus.
For the record.
The Judge's verdict that there would be a trial to determine Brenda's guardian didn't seem as much of a significant blow to Dylan as did that text.
The text that caused Dylan's knees to give out, to the point that his brothers rushed to catch him.
It was Nat and Iris who did.
It was also Nat who convinced Dylan and Brandon to stay in the building until the verdict was read.
They had both wanted to leave the second Brandon had received the text.
"Oh, my sweet boy." Iris cupped Dylan's solemn face. "This is only a small traffic cone on the curved highway that is directing Brenda back to you. She is upset and rightfully so, but she will see that you had the best of intentions. She has forgiven you for much worse. You have hit a slight snafu that, after you have overcome it, will cause your relationship with darling Brenda to emerge stronger than ever before."
"Your mother is a wise woman," said Nat. "We'll bring Brenda home."
"She doesn't want to come home," Dylan croaked.
"She will," said Cindy. "I know my daughter. This life you and Brenda have been building together, Dylan; it's the life she's always wanted. She will realize that. She will return to you, to her home. It may not be right away, but she will."
Iris continued to stick close to Dylan. Brandon refused anyone's comfort, including Nat's. Andrea's confidence that Brenda would return and Brandon would secure guardianship of her failed to reassure Brandon. David's arms looped around Valerie, which she didn't shove off.
Nor did she stop his face from rubbing against her cheek.
"She hates me," said Val brokenly. "They'll both hate me."
"She'll come around," said David.
"I did this." Val swept out her hand towards Dylan. "They corroded any chance Dylan had to claim himself as Brenda's family. The court will take one look at his history with addictions and the law and ensure he can't get guardianship of Bren. Their best option was for her to avoid needing it altogether, and now it's my fault she fled. It's my fault she pissed off the Judge, and it's my fault Bren could've been arrested for contempt if Hagerty hadn't convinced the Judge that Bren was cramping. Which for all I know, she might have been."
Had Dylan not already displayed the exterior of one who had been repeatedly rolled over by a tow truck, he would have gained it in that moment.
He allowed Steve to prop him on a bench as Dylan continuously left pleading voicemails for Brenda.
"My lie did this," said Val.
"Our lie did this," said Brandon. "I was part of it."
"But I started it," said Val. "I'm the reason we don't know where Bren went. I'm why she threw away her chance at winning the hearing. I lied again, but this time, I convinced myself it was for her own good. How does that make me any different from Jim?"
"You're nothing like Jim Walsh," said David.
"Jim's schemes have hurt his family, the way my schemes keep hurting mine," said Val.
"Should we go home?" asked Steve.
"What home?" asked Dylan. His eyes were bloodshot. His words slurred as if an effect of addiction; yet, his sobriety was unchanged.
"Bren's more likely to return home than to return here," Steve pointed out.
"You can go back to the house," said Dylan. "I'm going to the studio. I guarantee you Bren went over there to distract herself with work."
They split up. Some of the group headed back to the house, some walked the streets of Helsinki, and the remaining two drove to the studio.
"You know me, Mikko," Dylan told the guard at the gate. "You gotta let me through."
"I have my orders, Mr. McKay," said Mikko.
"She's in there, isn't she?" Dylan slid his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose. "Just let me talk to her."
"I cannot let you through," said Mikko.
Dylan revved up the engine.
"My girl is days away from entering her ninth month with our daughter and if you think I'm not gonna find a way to get behind these gates to get to my family, you're sadly mistaken," he said.
"Maybe we should turn around," said Brandon, concerned that Dylan would drive the car straight into the wrought-iron gates.
"We will contact authorities," said Mikko.
"Then contact them," said Dylan.
Brandon answered the shrill ring of his phone.
"Brandon, tell Dylan to leave right now if he wants me to even consider coming home," said Brenda's crisp voice. "He's gonna make me lose my fucking job."
"I knew you were in the studio," called out Dylan.
"I want to be left alone," said Brenda. "All of you, leave me alone."
"We can't do that," said Brandon. "I made a promise to you, Bren; a promise I intend to keep."
"I'm giving you permission to break it," said Brenda. "I don't want to see any of you."
"I'm not gonna break it," said Brandon. He sought to keep his voice steady, to remain calm and level-headed as a foil for the two who were anything but.
"We have packages to open," said Dylan. "You could be cramping. You could start having contractions at any second. You could become feverish. You could end up in fucking hospital. I won't leave you alone."
"I'll make sure you're called if that happens," said Brenda. "You told me this isn't just about her. If you meant that, if you meant what you told me in Lapland, then you won't make it about her now."
Dylan's grip slackened on the steering wheel.
"How long do you need?" he asked in a deadpan.
"Two weeks?" she asked.
"Not happening. Two days," he haggled.
"One week."
"Three days."
"The rest of the week."
"Fine," said Dylan. "If you still refuse to see me by week's end, I'm plowing down these gates even if I have to rent a crane to do it."
"That's absurd."
"What's absurd, baby," Dylan punctured out the endearment, "is that you think you can stay away from me for two whole weeks when our hearts pump in each other's chests. But if the rest of the week is what you need to convince yourself of everything I've tried to tell you, then I'll do my best to give it to you. I'm warning you now, Bren: this is the last time you get to push me away. So enjoy it while it lasts because I'm not a man who gives up this easily, and you're not a woman who lets me. I'll expect to see you at our weekend scan, if I don't see you before then. Which I will. Because you and I, Bren; we're magnetic. We can be redirected, but our magnetism can't be blocked. Especially not by some goddamn gates or the guards ordered to stand over them."
With that, Dylan slid his sunglasses back up his nose, waved to the baffled Mikko, and drove off.
Brandon stumbled into the kitchen at approximately ten-thirty that night to see David rubbing at a spot on the counter with the edge of his tank top.
"Found a couple half-full bottles of vodka in Val's room," he said. "Dumped them before she could get to them."
"Probably a good idea," said Brandon. "How did this get all fucked up?"
"Claiborne's good at his job," said David. "A little too good. It makes you wonder -"
"- how he knows half the stuff he does," said Brandon.
"A tail," said Dylan as he tossed down the package he had been holding and stomped in to join them. "Someone's got a tail on us. But was the tail placed when I came, or before I came?" He pressed both hands on the counter. "And where the fuck is it?"
Dylan rocked against the counter.
"Don't do it, Dylan," said David.
"Don't do what?" asked Dylan. "Find the tail and smash the daylights out of them? Get a fix? Buy a bottle? Track down whoever bought off that Judge? Head over to my sponsor's? Which one do you think I'll do, Silver?"
"I'll drive you," said Brandon.
"I'm taking the bike," said Dylan.
He ripped out of there before they had the chance to stop him.
Brandon sat on the stoop with his head in his hands.
"I failed them," he said. "I failed my family."
He peeked out as a presence that he had long since memorized drew near.
"We always look to you to lead us, Brandon, but you can only lead us so far," she said. "You made your sister, her health, and the health of her child your main priority. Bren will understand. You don't have to always strive for perfection. You're allowed to feel weak. You're allowed to be wrong. You're allowed to be human. You're allowed to crumble."
Brandon Walsh didn't like to break.
But he did. He cracked there in her arms, the way he had only been able to show vulnerability with one person.
Kelly Taylor, the woman who held Brandon as he released months of pent-up emotions straight into Kelly's bubblegum pink blouse.
Which would need to be laundered straight away, to wash out the dripping nasal discharge that accompanied the emotions of a broken brother, taking comfort in the arms of the person whose decisions had often turned him into a broken lover.
As his own decisions had done to her.
Yet, in that moment, past decisions and past hurts were left discarded as Kelly permitted Brandon to embrace the unsure twentysomething he should have been.
Instead of the middle-aged patriarch he had allowed himself to become.
-x
Sources: Google and the websites for Ask Dr. Sears, Baby Center, Bunting Berkhamsted, Cleveland Clinic, Cornell Law School, DJ Tees, Happiest Baby, Mom Loves Best, Patrick J. Thomas Agency, Peanut, Verywell Family, Womens Law, YouTube.
(Shout-out to KJ to express my continued gratitude and appreciation, as well as those of you I can message directly. KJ, I love giving Val some girl bonding that she sorely lacked in the series. The trio of her, Bren and Clare are a blast to write together. And I always loved the way Nat spoke tough love to his boys!)
Thanks a million! x