by Ada Winder
“Well, I guess that’s okay,” Jack agreed.
Drew went ahead and set it up while Jack settled on the couch. His son had enjoyed Chicken Little in the theater and Drew was sure he would enjoy it again.
As soon as they were out of earshot of Jack, Drew asked his mother, watching her face closely: “So when’s Elaine coming?”
His mother shrugged.
“She didn’t say. She was pretty upset with me that I didn’t call her right after I called you.”
Drew was disgusted.
“Well, that’s pretty selfish of her considering the circumstances. I really don’t know what her problem is.”
Drew never figured out what the issue was between his sister and his mother, only aware there was always great tension between them. He could not imagine why, and Elaine would not talk to him about it. In any case, he found it inappropriate for the current situation; she should be able to put whatever it was between them aside for the time being.
He sighed.
“You want me to call her for you? Find out what’s up?”
“Oh, no—it’s okay. She’ll show up; it doesn’t matter when—she won’t miss the funeral.”
“Well, okay mom, whatever you want. So what did you want me to help you with?”
“Well, first of all,” she started walking up the stairs, indicating that he follow her, “I need you to take your father’s things down these stairs and wherever they’re supposed to go—I labeled them.”
“Well, all right, let’s get started.”
As he walked into his parents’ bedroom, Drew was surprised at how clean and empty it looked, save for the cluster of boxes and containers that he assumed were his father’s disposable belongings. He wondered if there was anything in them that he would want. He asked his mother for a summary of the contents of each box. When he was satisfied that he did not need what she had boxed up as trash, he carried that box down to the garbage. Then he went through the boxes in which his mother had packed all of his father’s books. He took out books that might be of interest to him, and he carried the remainder to his car, laying them on the backseat for a later trip to the local library. As for the boxes of clothes and shoes, there was no doubt that he would want nothing from his father’s wardrobe except for a few ties, so he wasted no time taking those boxes and packing them in the car for a later trip to the Salvation Army.
By now, his car was almost filled to capacity, but he still had the passenger’s side. He figured he would just have to leave Jack with his mom when he ran the errands. It had always been difficult for him to leave Jack anywhere, but since he had to for various reasons—school and camp for example—he started getting used to it a bit; besides, his mother needed someone to be with her. He could not hog Jack to himself.
By the time he had finished going through and transporting all of the boxes to the trash or his car, the distraction of the work had worn off and he started thinking about his dad.
He had always thought of him as a great father, the model for his own parenting approaches, and Drew would miss him terribly. His father had not been home for long periods of time as far as he remembered; in fact, in his childhood, he remembered seeing him just an hour or two before his bedtime, but the time he did spend with him and his sister meant the world to Drew. He was funny and playful with them, playing board games and teaching them card games. He read to them, and brought them gifts from time to time.
Drew never doubted his father’s love for them, nor his own love of and admiration for him. The fact that he was dead still had not sunk in, and he did not want it to. For now, he preferred to ignore it, pretend it did not really happen. That it was someone else who had died.
Back in his parents’ bedroom, Drew asked his mother what else she wanted him to do. She headed over to his father’s side of the bed and sat near the head of it, next to his father’s nightstand.
“Well, since you’re in the same field as your dad—all that business and accounting and stuff—I was hoping you could help me make sense of some of his financial files.”
“Did dad have a will?”
His mother looked stricken, as if the thought had not occurred to her.
“Why yes, I’m sure he does. I’m just not sure where.”
“Well, I’m sure whatever lawyer you guys use will have a copy.”
“We’ve never used a lawyer, Drew…” She paused. “But I suppose he did at some point—he’s been involved in all sorts of things unbeknownst to me.”
Drew’s ears perked up. His father had always been a little more on the quiet side when it came to personal matters—health issues, the details of his work days and the like—but he supposed he at least discussed them with his mother. Now that his interest was piqued, he was suddenly filled with enthusiasm and excitement.
“Where did you say those files were?”
His mother pointed at the drawers of the nightstand.
“It seems the more recent and relevant things are in the top drawer. I would love to know what was going on.”
Drew went over and started looking through the files. Things he expected to see there were there, as well as a few other files that he assumed his mother had been referring to. He pulled those and started looking through them.
As he sorted through the files, Drew was horrified to realize how eager he was to find out what he had gained at the loss of his father. Did his father have real estate somewhere they didn’t know about? More bank accounts in Switzerland perhaps? The Cayman Islands?
Drew was not exactly poor, but he had been struggling recently to fulfill his son’s needs, and as much as he loved his son, he was glad he was his only child at the moment. Lacey’s jobs had helped a little, but he always wanted more, more to give to both his son and his wife.
Suddenly, he could not stop thinking about what his father might have left for him instead of grieving him, and he wondered if he was a monster for feeling this way.
Drew was not aware how much time had passed, so he was startled when Jack’s voice came from the door.
“It’s over, dad. What can I do next?”
Drew put down the papers, and after leading Jack back down the stairs, set him up to watch Madagascar.
“We should really meet with that lawyer soon,” he said to his mom when he returned to the room. “Dad had a lot of assets and obligations, and if you didn’t know about any of this stuff,” he pointed to the Thomas Gibson files he had taken out, “then who knows what else you don’t know about.”
Drew was fascinated by his father’s secrecy. The Thomas Gibson projects seemed like a good thing—why would he hide it?
Drew was both somewhat amused and amazed that his father had been able to keep these side projects a secret, although according to what he’d read, his father had managed to stay behind the scenes most of the time.
Only the recent article where his dad was pictured shaking hands with someone could have given him away. Drew figured it was some sort of luck no one the family knew had seen that article—or else they’d commented to his dad directly on it.
Drew also wondered if Elaine knew anything; she had always been a little closer to their dad than he was, and with her quiet, secretive nature, he figured she had a better chance of knowing more than anyone.
“So I guess we’ll wait till Elaine gets here so we can meet with the lawyer together. I mean I’d assume he’d leave most things to you, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea to assume anything now,” he said, indicating the files once again.
His mother dropped her head for a moment as if thinking, then raised it and looked at him.
“We’ll take care of it after the funeral. Will you help me plan?”
He laughed.
“Elaine’s probably better at planning this sort of thing…” he noticed her face, “…but okay, yeah. Sure, I’ll help. Whatever you want me to do mom.”
Alice smiled.
“You’ve always been a sweet boy, Drew. I’m so glad you’re here.�
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Sweet? Did sweet boys have such a strong desire to scavenge their father’s belongings and assets?
***
“So who should I invite?” his mom asked him.
They were sitting at the kitchen table while Jack was still watching his movie and she had pulled out a notepad she had obviously been using for planning the funeral.
He wondered for a moment if she was losing it.
“Mom, I don’t think it’s quite like a wedding. No invitation necessary.”
“Oh, I know that, dear, don’t be silly. I just want to make sure we tell everyone who needs to know. I don’t want to forget anyone.”
Drew thought about it.
“Well, dad’s parents are out considering his mom is dead and grandpa is…wait he’s alive. Do you think he can make it? Where is he again?”
“George’s sister is taking care of him…”
“Oh yeah, aunt Miriam—you’ve got her right?”
His mother nodded.
“Okay, well then there are his previous workplaces—you know those better than I do; I only know the last two. Maybe places before I was born or too young to remember—you’ve got those?”
She appeared to be thinking, then she started writing.
“And his friends from college, high school maybe…”
“Yes, I have the schools, but I have to think about the people. I will submit it to alumni news though.”
“Do you want me to help you with that? E-mail the schools I mean?”
“Well, I was just going to mail…”
“Yeah, but e-mailing might be faster. Other than that, there’s your side of the family I guess. And your friends.”
His mother made a scoffing sound.
“There’s no one to tell,” she said.
“Don’t you have siblings? Wouldn’t they come?”
She shook her head. “I doubt it.”
Drew didn’t understand. He knew his mother didn’t have the greatest relationship with her father or her siblings, but he thought by now they would have gotten past whatever had happened. He thought when you got older, you got smarter about relationships, especially familial ones. After all, who wanted to end up old and alone? Sometimes family was all you had.
“Well, and then there’s Elaine and her family, but of course they already know. I think that’s it mom.”
Her body was there, but her mind appeared to be elsewhere as she stared ahead at nothing, her eyes blank.
“I hope so,” she said softly.
CHAPTER TEN
September 24th, 1971
Indianapolis, Indiana
Once George found out about her ex-boyfriend Paul, he was uneasy. And once he found out she’d had a conversation with Paul over the telephone while she and George were officially together, George instructed her never to talk to Paul again.
He was not completely unreasonable about it; he said that should they ever accidentally bump into each other, say, walking through the streets, they were allowed to say “hello” and “goodbye.” But non-accidental, in fact, very deliberate phone calls or letters to find out how the other was doing, well, that was a no-no.
“I don’t like him,” George had said about her acting partner for her theater class as they passed him on their way to the cafeteria and Alice had waved and smiled at him. “Give me his name,” he demanded of a classmate whom George found flirted with her too much. “You will dance with no one else but me,” he commanded, before leaving her to watch him dance innocently with other girls at parties.
Alice could understand where he was coming from; the threat of a past love coming back into the picture—or a new one just entering—was very real. What she could not understand, was George’s own rules being inapplicable to him. It was okay for his ex-girlfriends or current female friends to send him letters, make phone calls. After all, according to him, they were all just friends—he saw his girls as nothing but. But when it came to Alice, there was no way she could have a platonic relationship with any male not related to her by blood, since according to him, all male-female friendships had something underneath: one or both parties desiring at some point—and for some, the duration of the relationship—for the friendship to go a step further. But that rule was inapplicable only to him; he was the only male on earth who could retain strictly platonic friendships with females, and therefore, he was allowed to have as many female friends as he wanted. And that was that.
After meeting George, Alice soon found that her circle of friends consisted of only George’s friends. Most of the friends she’d had before George became friends with him and some even befriended or dated some of his friends so they became part of his group. Even to a smaller degree her closest friends, Heather and Linda, girls she had known from back home in Indiana having gone to the same high school and now the same college, were on friendly terms with George. Still, his circle was undoubtedly second to theirs.
Alice and Heather had become roommates by their sophomore year since they did not run into each other until sometime after first arriving on campus, and Linda had befriended Heather so they made a quick circle, one that Alice found solace, comfort, and escape in. While Alice mostly kept her feelings to herself, there were times when she needed to vent about George or school, and they were always there for her. She was grateful for them; after all, George had a number of tendencies that got on her nerves and she sometimes needed to know that she wasn’t being crazy; she needed to be validated.
One of George’s irritating tendencies was his exaggerated display of masculinity. He would don a personality unrecognizable to her but clearly familiar to the boys he hung out with, one which painted him as a sort of unattached Casanova. She tried to ignore it because she figured that most, if not all guys were putting on the same act, practically beating their chests in demonstrations of their manhood as they told their stories of conquer or in their simple, usually crude admiration of the female figure.
On one such incident, Alice had walked up to George and his circle in order to confirm her plans with him for his birthday which was that day.
As she came up to them, she heard the tail end of their conversation with George saying:
“Man, are you kidding me? Raquel Welch has nice knockers, yeah, but it’s Farrah Fawcett all the way—I’d do her for sure. Don’t even get me started on Julie Newmar. Hey Alice, how’s it goin’?”
Alice tried to ignore what she had just heard; after all, it was just his way when he was with other guys.
“Excuse me guys,” she began, and watched them move away a bit to give her and George some privacy. When they were a satisfactory distance away, she said: “I just wanted to make sure we’re still on for tonight. What time…”
He slapped his hand to his forehead.
“Aw shucks—I almost forgot about that. I didn’t realize that was tonight.”
He was watching his friends, as if he could not wait for her to stop bothering him so he could get back to them.
“How could you forget? It’s your own birthday for goodness sake! Of course we’d have plans—at least, I would for you. You’re my boyfriend!”
She didn’t ask him what she was on the verge of asking, which was: didn’t he want to do something with her? Spend it, share it with her?
“I’m sorry, Alice—it’s just that I was invited to this party. These girls—you know Ginger and Anna and that group of gals right? Well, they’re throwing a kind of joint birthday party for their friend Sheila and for James since his birthday’s the same day too and since mine’s today. It’s basically a party celebrating everyone they know whose birthday is this week. I hope you don’t mind.”
Alice was thrown off, but smiled.
“Mind? Why would I mind? I think it’s great! We could have such a great time!”
“Oh.” He was looking at her funny. “Well, actually, I think it’s only for, you know, people they invited. They invited me but…” His shoulders lifted and fell. “It’s just that Robbie told me th
ey don’t particularly like you, so it’s not an oversight or anything. I just think it would be kind of disrespectful of me to bring you along.”
Alice was stunned. She was so amazed at his own oversight that she couldn’t speak for a few moments and did not bother to argue.
“Oh, well—I hope you have a good time. We’ll talk later then.”
“Yeah, I’ll let you know how it went!”
He grinned then scrambled over to his buddies.
Later that night, Alice could not hold it in. When her roommate Heather came back from an outing and asked:
“Hey, how come you’re home, Ali? Isn’t it George’s birthday?”
Alice rolled her eyes and replied:
“Yeah but George is over at this party; he didn’t want me to accompany him because it would offend the hosts. Can you believe that? God, I can’t believe I let him get away with that.”
Heather said nothing. She had a strange expression on her face, one that Alice did not make sense of until later.
The next day, Alice found out that Heather had been at the party herself and had even been involved in the festivities. And so had her other friend Linda. According to an acquaintance who had been present at the party, there was a group cake for the three birthday folks, and when it was brought out, each of them were encouraged to give their favorite person present the first piece they cut, and Heather had been fed that piece from George.
Even though, when confronted about it, George had explained that he had given it to Heather because she was Alice’s friend and he figured that if word got out, Alice would be less upset by that choice—someone considered neutral territory as opposed to him choosing one of the other girls—several of whom both suspected had a thing for him—Alice was incensed.
Although Alice had considered Heather one of her closest friends in college, from then on, she could no longer see her that way; Heather and Linda belonged to George too.
***
In the days after the birth of her daughter it was clear that Elaine also belonged to George. Alice did all the dirty work, while George reaped the benefits of a clean, well-fed, about-to-go-down-for-the-night baby. He played with her, sang and danced with her, talked to her. He made her smile, laugh. He tickled her, swung her in the air. He quickly became her favorite parent and her little hands would reach out for him when she saw him—if she even had the time before he swooped her up.