“Bodhi,” he says. “Are you aware your mother has a separate trust fund with you listed as the sole beneficiary? Did she ever discuss this with you?”
I shake my head. My mom never talked about this kind of stuff with me. “No, sir. I mean, I assumed she had like a special college fund or something set up for me …?”
He nods his head. “Your mother has asked me to be a trustee to oversee the distribution of these assets when you turn eighteen.”
Sounds intense. “What’s in it?” I curiously ask him.
He answers quickly, too quickly, like he wants to get these words out of his mouth as fast as possible. “Twenty-nine million six hundred thousand dollars.”
Ma and Pop gasp next to me.
“Excuse me?” I exclaim. “Did you say twenty-nine million dollars?”
“I did,” he replies. “This money will be accessible to you on your eighteenth—”
“Twenty-nine million dollars?” I interrupt him again.
“Yes, Bodhi,” he responds. Maybe telling a teenager he has millions of dollars waiting for him isn’t a big deal in his eyes. “I realize this is quite a bit of money,” he continues. “Life changing, and I’m here to help you once the time comes—”
“Well gee, thanks for that,” I say. My mouth is drier than the Sahara. I need some air. I push my chair back and put one finger up in his face. “If you can excuse me for a moment …”
I stand up and walk right out of the office, through the lobby where the nosey secretary glances up at me, and out the front door where I’m greeted by a burst of fiery heat. My heart feels weird, like it’s beating so fast it’s going to just stop. I walk around to the side of the brick building, an alleyway that’s not visible by any of the passing cars, and then I scream.
I scream loud. Loud enough that the crows pecking away at the wrappers on the ground fly away in fright. Loud enough that my ears are ringing and my throat burns. Loud enough that I hope if there’s a heaven and my mom is indeed up there … she hears me as if I’m standing right next to her. Loud enough that I feel a little better.
I give myself a moment. I might hit the brick wall with my hand a couple times, and then I walk back into the building. I wave my sore hand at the secretary that’s still looking up at me. I grab a bottle of water from the little fridge in the corner of the lobby, and chug it in one gulp. I toss the empty bottle into the garbage can next to the secretary’s desk, causing her to jump in her seat, and I head back into the room where the lawyer and Ma and Pop are waiting. They’re watching me cautiously as I walk in. Like I might explode in front of them. I take a seat. Ma puts her hand on my shoulder.
No one says anything.
“Carry on,” I wave my hand to the lawyer.
He clears his throat again. “Well, all that’s left to discuss is the possibility of visitation with your paternal grandfather.”
My head snaps. Did the world implode? It must have.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I question the Farley look alike. “First you tell me I have twenty-nine million dollars coming to me when I turn eighteen, and now you’re telling me I have a grandfather. Do you have the right paperwork in front of you? I don’t have a paternal grandfather. I don’t even have a fucking father.”
“Bodhi!” Ma exclaims under her breath. She squeezes my shoulder.
The lawyer’s face turns red as he looks down at his papers. “Calvin Sullivan. He’s lived in Flagler Beach for a while now. He’s on the Halifax. I know your biological father is not in the picture, but I assumed you knew about your grandfather—”
“No.” I’m about to fall right out of my chair. Why does the fact I have a grandfather surprise me more than the fact I’m going to be a millionaire in nine months? “I knew nothing about him.”
Ma rubs my shoulder. “Is this mandatory? Does Bodhi have to visit with him? Or can he decide for himself?”
The lawyer pushes his chair back and removes his glasses, wiping them with the inside of his sports jacket. “Bodhi, your mother has requested this, but you may choose to ignore her wishes. It’s not mandatory. She made it clear it was only a request and the decision is in your hands if you see him or not.”
Ma squeezes my shoulder again. I put my hand on hers. “I want to meet him,” is what I say. “This Calvin Sullivan. I want to meet him.”
When the meeting is over, Ma and Pop are driving me back to their house before they head to their shop. They’re both too quiet, which is not like them at all. They’re more sarcastic and loud-mouthed than Coop is. I’m definitely not used to this uncomfortable silence from either of them. I’m watching them from the backseat as they whisper to each other, wondering if they’re planning on dropping me off at a children’s home the first chance they get.
“Bodhi,” Ma says, turning around in her seat to look at me. Her eyes are nervous. “We had no idea about the money. Or your grandfather.”
“I figured.”
“It’s an awful lot to throw on you,” she smiles.
“No shit,” I agree.
“Son,” Pop says, looking at me through the rearview mirror. “I think it would be best to not let anyone know right now—about the money. Money changes people. Makes them greedy. Ma and I, we want to go about this the best way for you. We’re going to find someone to help you with this, a financial advisor or something like that. Is this okay?”
“Sure. But you don’t want me telling the guys? I tell them everything.”
Ma smiles again, but I can tell she’s concerned. “You need to ask yourself how you would act if Coop or Beck came up to you and said in less than a year, they were going to have almost thirty million dollars. If it would change the way you treated them, there’s no harm in waiting to tell them.”
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, I’m sitting on the beach with Coop and Beck, surfing and blowing off steam. I decided to hold off on telling them about the money. I can’t seem to wrap my own head around it yet, that I’ll be a multimillionaire at eighteen and that my mom had all this money and never told me about it. I’d never be able to help them process it if I can’t even process it myself, so I’ll wait. Until it’s the right time, or until I turn eighteen and get the money, whichever comes first.
There’s a party later tonight that we’re planning on going to. It’s right down the street from Coop’s house, which would make for the perfect setup when we stumble our asses home. It’s your typical party where someone’s parents are out of town and someone scores some beer. Every party starts off this way and I won’t lie … it’s getting kind of old and I’m not feeling it. Something keeps bringing me back to all this money, and the fact I have a grandpa I never knew about. My dad’s father, a dad I have no memories of.
And Eva. She’s still firmly on my mind.
“You have a grandpa who’s lived here for years, and your mom never told you about him?” Coop replays the facts.
“Apparently,” I shrug.
“Do you want to meet him?” Beck asks.
“Of course, but do I just show up?” I wonder out loud. “Does he know about me? Why did my mom not tell me about him? Does that sound like my mom to you? Because it sure as hell doesn’t sound like my mom to me.”
Beck jams his water bottle into the sand. “It does. It sounds like your mom. I mean, think about it. Did she ever talk about your dad in front of you?”
“No,” I mumble.
He raises his eyebrow and nods his head. “Well, there ya go. Why would she talk about your grandpa in front of you?”
“Screw this,” I growl.
“That’s messed up, Bodhi,” Coop shakes his head. “We’ll go with you. Make sure your grandpa’s not some child predator or something. Maybe your mom was caught in the middle of some sex trade ring? Remember all those photography seminars she used to go to? Maybe that was code for meeting up with her pimp? Maybe he’s not really your grandpa?”
Beck throws a handful of sand at him.
I laugh. “Thanks man, but I d
on’t want to scare the guy. I think it’s something I need to do on my own. If I do it. When I do it.”
“What about Eva?” Coop questions me. “You just gonna let her go again? I still can’t believe you didn’t kiss her.”
I stay silent. The guys know not to talk about Eva in front of me. The last few years, I can’t seem to keep my shit together whenever we talk about her.
“Listen, Bodhi,” Beck chimes in. “You’ve been a mess this last year. A disaster. I’m not going to sit here and lie about it. We thought it was about your mom—”
“Don’t throw her into this,” I interrupt him.
He raises his hands. “I won’t, but it’s because of Eva, right? That day on the pier? The day you saw her with Porter Channing? You went psycho after that day and it’s getting fucking difficult to keep you alive, bro.”
“Or to make sure you don’t screw some random girl and become a daddy before high school is over,” Coop points out.
“For real?” I mutter. Neither one of them say anything. “Well, thanks for all your concern, but I’m done with that.”
Coop and Beck both give each other a look.
“I am,” I declare through clenched teeth.
“Yeah?” Coop questions. “Why? Seems like you’ve been enjoying yourself quite a bit …”
I lie back in the sand. “Because drinking away my emotions is stupid and screwing some random girl isn’t the same as being with someone who matters.”
“Damn, bro,” Coop sighs. “Eva? Your moment on the beach brought your drunken horny mind back down to reality?”
I throw my water bottle at him. “Maybe.”
“I sure am glad you figured this out before you knocked some girl up or got yourself a case of the crabs or something,” Coop declares.
I roll my eyes. “You know I’m safe and get tested,” I remind him. “I just did yesterday, and now I’m done, totally done. Going to either join a convent, or wait.”
“Wait for what?” Beck asks.
“Eva,” I declare. “Now I’m done talking about this.”
THAT EVENING, curiosity gets the best of me, much to the protest of the guys. I leave them and find myself in my jeep instead. I’m driving to the Halifax from Funky Pelican where the guys and I got dinner, looking for the address the lawyer had written in his perfect print on a yellow post-it note.
I turn down what should be Calvin Sullivan’s street, and start passing gated entrances to long, wooded, secluded driveways when it hits me. I’ve been down this street before. Hundreds of times. I’m coming down it from the opposite direction than I normally would, but this street, this is Eva’s street. My heart rate picks up as I pass the entrance to her house, with its black gates I’ve only walked through once the entire time I’ve known her. I only pause for a moment, remembering all the times I parked my bike outside those gates as I watched Eva ride through them.
Then I slam on my brakes. Calvin Sullivan’s house is right next door.
He and Eva are next-door neighbors.
Are you fucking kidding me?
I park my jeep on the side of the road and stand outside of it for a few minutes, staring at the weathered gates that are calling out at me like an invitation from a horrible horror movie. Do I walk through these gates and question if I’ll walk back out later tonight? Or do I get back in the jeep and meet up with Coop and Beck, get drunk off my ass, and never give this place a second thought?
Well, I’m already here. I might as well see what the guy looks like.
I give the gates a huge push and they slowly inch forward. I expected them to be locked, but it’s as if they knew I’d show up sometime today. They creak loudly in protest though. I’m sure the entire street heard the ear-piercing screech as the metal sang out its warning at me to stay away from what’s behind them.
I continue my walk down the dirt driveway. My legs are like weights with each step and have given out on me by the time the house comes into view. It’s not a new build, I can tell that right away. It looks like it’s been here forever, hiding out behind all these trees. It’s not huge, like most of the houses on this street are, but it’s way too big for just one or two people.
The two-story house looks Victorian, with dark wood and lighter colored decorative gables at each of its peaks. There’s also a giant front porch with white wicker rocking chairs, which I’m standing directly in front of. Now’s my chance to turn around and leave before I do something stupid. Doing stupid things has sort of been my motto these last few years.
Leave or stay?
Leave or stay?
Stay.
I lift my finger up to the bell at the same time the wooden double doors fling open. There, behind them, stands a man who looks to be in his early seventies with silver gray hair that frames his face like my own does. The curls, my curls, I have his fucking hair. He looks like the man from the picture I have hidden in my dresser too, a much older version. His outfit is hideous though, like he must have gotten dressed in the dark. He’s wearing bright yellow swim trunks and a button-up shirt with blue whales all over it.
I try to speak, but no words leave my mouth. I’m too caught up with the fact that I’m looking at myself in fifty some years, and that I’ll probably be wearing hideous, bright, mix-matched clothing like him. I almost bolt before he can say anything, but my goddamn legs won’t move off the porch.
“Well shit,” he says, pushing his hair away from his forehead. “You look exactly like him.”
He knows who I am. “My dad?” I question.
“No, the mailman. Come on in, Bodhi, and close the doors behind you,” he says, walking further inside and leaving me standing there.
I hesitate. Am I really going to walk into the house of some strange old man I just met? Some old guy who might know something, anything about the dad I don’t remember? But the same old guy who might strangle me the moment the doors close and chop me up into little pieces and throw me into the Halifax as shark chum?
Yes. Yes, I am. Add this right onto the list of stupid things I’ve done these past few years.
I follow him inside and glance around for an escape route in case I need one. The first thing I notice besides the fact I have a clear shot to the patio door and could outrun him if I need to, are all the pictures that frame the two storied foyer. I do a quick search for any of my dad, but it looks to be all of Calvin, and someone who I can only assume is my grandma.
“That’s Rose,” he points to her in the pictures. “That would be your grandma.”
Knew it. “Is she …?”
“Alive?” he finishes for me, shaking his head. “Good Lord took her a few years ago.”
“Was she here? With you?”
He blinks a few times before responding. “No, she didn’t make this trip to Flagler with me. She was gone before then.”
“Did you know about me?” I blurt out. I need to know. I need to know right now. “Do you know how many times I’ve ridden my bike down this street? I know the girl next door. I’ve known her for five years. Did you know about me all that time?”
He doesn’t even think twice before saying, “Yes, I knew about you, but not until your mom got sick.” He says nothing about Eva.
I shake my head. Three years. He’s known about me for at least three years. Not when I was on this street every week making sure Eva got home safely, but after.
“And my mom? She knew about you? For three years? Or longer? She didn’t tell me anything. Not one little thing. I found out about you, today.”
He can tell I’m getting angry. “Why don’t you join me for dinner?”
I cross my arms over my chest and stare him dead in the face. Is this guy for real? “I already ate,” I glare at him.
He smirks at me. “I’m sure you could eat again. I’ve been smoking some ribs all day, and could use the company.”
The last thing I want to do is join this man for ribs. “What’s my dad’s name?” is my answer to his invitation. “His first name. It’
s not Sully, right?”
He sighs a deep sigh like it’s hard for him to say it out loud, but he answers. “Luke. Luke Sullivan.”
“Where is he? Is he around? Is he alive? Where does he live?”
“Those answers, I do not know,” he replies.
I don’t know why, but I believe him. This man I just met. I believe what he’s telling me. A part of me thinks I would believe anything he said right now—I’m so desperate to hear something about my dad, but I can see the pain in his eyes when he talks about him. I don’t think he’s lying about not knowing where he is.
So, here are my options. I can walk out of this house right now, never come back, and learn nothing more about my dad or his family besides what I currently know. Or, I can join this man for dinner and see what unfolds.
“Ribs? Out on the patio?” he asks again, pointing behind him.
I raise my eyebrows. “Lead the way.”
Walking into his house, the only thing I knew about my grandpa was his name. Thirty minutes after that, I now know his name, and that he’s a goddamn amazing cook. I have to give it to the old man. He knows how to smoke some ribs. He also knows how to roast the hell out of potatoes and make some goddamn delicious cornbread.
“You make all this food for yourself?” I ask him, biting into my third piece of cornbread.
He laughs. “I always make too much. I share with the neighbors.”
I glance over towards Eva’s house but don’t say anything.
Dinner out on his patio means we spend the night watching the random boaters go by on the Halifax, in between our bursts of conversation. Even though he never brings up anything important about my dad, we don’t run out of things to talk about. He tells me fishing stories, and all about his career as a traveling chef, which makes perfect sense now that I’ve eaten the food he’s cooked. He tells me a lot about Rose. I can tell how much he loved her. I wish I could have met her. It makes me angry that I wasn’t given that chance.
I tell him about life on the beach with my mom. What an amazing mom she was. I tell him I surf, that I’m pretty good at school, that I’ve had a great childhood. All the random shit a long-lost grandpa would want to hear to confirm his grandson has had a wonderful upbringing without him ever being involved.
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