by Marisa Logan
I looked across the church at him, wondering how he was doing. His wife—not the same girl from that Christmas, she'd apparently cheated on him a few years later—held his hand in her lap, stroking his fingers to keep him calm. He was quiet the entire time, though I'd expected that. He tended to get quiet during emotional times, sometimes shutting down completely. I was pretty sure he was somewhere on the autism spectrum, but as far as I knew, he'd never gotten checked out.
My little sister Amanda was the only one who was crying. She was also the youngest; she'd just turned twenty-two, and her college graduation was in a few days. Not that I'd been invited.
When the priest asked if anyone wanted to say a few words, Amanda was the only one that got up. I watched her walk up to the front, wiping the tears from her eyes. I wondered what she could possibly say about Grandma. Grandma had suffered from Alzheimer's that had slowly robbed her mind over the course of the last six or seven years. I hadn't even bothered to visit her for the last five. I didn't see the point, since she never recognized me. And we'd never had a relationship. Amanda couldn't have had any better memories of Grandma than I had. She'd been a teenager when Grandma started losing her mind, so her only real memories of Grandma would probably have been of Christmases and Thanksgivings from years past, and that summer we spent at Grandma's while our parents were getting divorced.
“My Grandma was really special to me,” Amanda said. “I remember how hard it was, helping take care of her when she first got diagnosed with Alzheimer's. There was this one time, she was convinced these shortbread cookies were made out of wood...”
I looked down into my lap, tuning out the rest of the story. Amanda had still been living with Dad when he took Grandma in. I guess I'd never thought about her helping taking care of Grandma as she deteriorated.
While Amanda was telling her story, I noticed my daughter, Ariella, had her phone out. She was holding it low in her lap, probably thinking nobody would notice. I tapped my fingers on it and gestured for her to put it away. She ignored me. I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Put that away. This is a funeral for God's sake.”
She huffed and gave me an annoyed look, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Mom, I'm bored,” she whispered. “I didn't even know her.”
“Put it away,” I hissed, holding my hand out to grab the phone if she didn't listen. She rolled her eyes and tucked the phone in her pocket.
I didn't blame her for not wanting to be here. I didn't want to be here, and I'd at least sort of had a relationship with Grandma when I was younger. Not much of a relationship, since she'd lived in Tennessee most of my life, so we only saw each other on the holidays. But Ariella had been in diapers when Grandma started losing her mind. As far as I knew, she had no memories of her great-grandmother at all.
“It won't be much longer,” I whispered. I put an arm around her. She leaned her head against my shoulder and pretended to pay attention to what her aunt was saying.
When Amanda finished, the priest stepped up and asked, “Would anyone else like to say anything?”
I looked around at my estranged family members. No one made a move.
The priest went through the final blessings, then closed the casket. The funeral procession on the way to the cemetery was small. Aside from Dad, my stepmom, my siblings, and Ariella, the only people there were my Dad's sister and my cousins from North Carolina. I didn't know them very well either. Before they came up for the funeral, I hadn't seen them since the summer we spent at Grandma's when I was twelve. Though we sort of kept in touch on Facebook.
I stood quietly as they lowered Grandma into the earth. I thought about all the years that I never called her, never visited. It wasn't like I'd had time to visit her in Tennessee. Raising a daughter on my own had taken up most of my time. But as the coffin disappeared from sight, I realized that I didn't know a single thing about my grandmother. Oh, I knew the basic facts. She'd grown up on a farm. She'd worked for awhile as an Avon lady. She'd been really racist and strict. But I didn't know any of the real details of her life. What her first kiss had been like. What kind of job she'd had as a teenager. Whether she'd ever traveled when she was younger, or whether she'd been stuck in Tennessee her whole life. Why she'd divorced my grandfather, a man I'd never even met.
There was no way I was ever going to learn those things now. She was gone, and all of her hopes and dreams, her secrets and lies, her fears, her sins, and her mysteries, they were all lost forever. Maybe Dad could tell me a few things about her life, but he couldn't know what was really in her heart. He couldn't tell me what her favorite movie was, or her favorite color. He couldn't tell me what she'd thought about me, whether she'd respected the decisions I'd made in my life.
I cried then, thinking about the things that were lost. Not for the woman herself. I hadn't known her well enough to mourn her. No, I mourned the relationship that we'd never have. I mourned the lost chance to get to know her. The knowledge that it was too late to go back to the days before Alzheimer's took her mind, pick up the phone, and call her just to say hi.
Ariella put an arm around me. I don't think I'd ever cried in front of her before.
My tears didn't last long. The priest's final words were simple and generic. He hadn't known her, either. When it was all done, Ariella and I headed for the car.
“Can we go home now?” she asked. She had her phone back out. I was starting to regret buying it for her for Christmas. I'd argued for awhile that a nine year old was too young to have her own smartphone. She'd convinced me that since she was “almost ten,” she deserved to have one.
“We have to go to the reading of the will,” I said. “Then we're stopping at your grandfather's house for awhile.”
“Cool,” she said. She never minded going to Grandpa's. He had an XBox. For a man in his fifties, my dad was a pretty hardcore gamer. He'd bought Ariella an Xbox of her own for Christmas, and I was pretty sure he'd only done it so that they could play Gears of War together online.
I wondered if Grandma had ever played a video game. I guessed I'd never know.
Chapter 2
The lawyer's office was a bit cramped when we got there, even with how few of us there were. I sat there, as bored as Ariella was, not seeing much point to this part of the day. Grandma hadn't had any money, at least as far as I knew. I supposed there would be the sale of the farm, but I couldn't imagine that was worth much. Any other money she'd had would no doubt have been spent on her medical bills over the years. I remembered my father talking about the financial burden of taking care of her, and I had to assume she'd been broke and he'd been the one covering the expenses towards the end.
The lawyer read through some legal definitions and explained some of the details to us, then started reading the will. It started off fairly standard, with Grandma leaving the farm to one of my dad's cousins who lived in Tennessee and had basically been running it for the last ten years anyway. It wasn't until the last couple of paragraphs that things started to get strange.
“And finally,” the lawyer read, flipping to the last page, “my pension from my retirement after my service at the Federal Bureau of Investigation, held by the First National Bank of Tennessee.”
I exchanged looks with my siblings and cousins. Grandma had worked for the FBI?
“It is my desire that this money go towards the education of my grandchildren,” the lawyer read, “Donna, James, Amanda, Charlotte, and Benjamin. The sum total of this account shall be divided equally between them, with the condition that the funds first be placed into trust, and used solely to cover the cost of tuition, books, and other expenses related to their educations. In the event that I pass after they have completed their educations, the funds may instead be allocated to paying off any student debt they have acquired, or reimbursing them for out of pocket expenses already paid. Any money left over in each of their trusts may only be released for personal use when the above expenses have been covered, and upon successful completion of a program grantin
g at least a bachelor's degree.”
I frowned, not quite sure what to make of the restrictions Grandma had apparently put into our inheritance. Though the will had surely been written back when all of us were in high school. I doubted Grandma had updated it in the later years when her mind was deteriorating.
“What does she mean by 'personal use'?” Amanda asked. “And does it have to be a college degree? I mean, I paid for Beauty School.”
“The specific conditions are laid out in another document,” the lawyer explained. “But to summarize, the criteria make it clear that she didn't want the money being squandered on things like video games and expensive clothing, that sort of thing. It was her wish that this money be used responsibly, to help you all get a better future.”
“How much are we talking about here?” Jimmy asked. “I've got over forty grand in debt, and most of that is student loans.”
I had plenty of debt myself, but it had all been the result of raising a child without child support from her father for the past nine years. PJ was a complete sleaze, and even before he got thrown in jail for statutory rape a few years after we split up, he hadn't paid me a dime for years.
The lawyer opened another envelope and scanned the contents. “According to the most recent statement released to me by the bank, the sum total of the account currently stands at $914,111.68. That's to be divided equally between you. Which comes to...one moment.”
He pulled out a calculator while we all gawked. I'd had no idea Grandma had been sitting on that kind of money.
The lawyer held up the calculator and cleared his throat. “Divided equally among the five of you, that comes to $182,822.33. Each.”
“Holy cow,” Jimmy said.
“Sweet,” Amanda whispered.
Charlotte raised her hand. The lawyer turned to her. “And after paying off student loans,” she said, “the rest, whatever's leftover, we get to keep?”
“That's correct,” the lawyer said. “You should understand, of course, these funds have been collecting interest since your grandmother's retirement twenty years ago. According to the documentation, she originally retired with $250,000. But, compounded interest over twenty years...” He spread his hands.
I stared at the wall, trying to clear my head. Ariella bounced up and down in her seat, no doubt imagining all the things I'd buy her once we collected the money. Except there was just one problem.
“Umm,” I said, tearing my eyes off the wall and looking to the lawyer, “I never went to college.”
“Well,” the lawyer said, looking through his papers, “there are stipulations for that. Let me see...yes. It says here that the funds must be used in their entirety for the above stated purposes either within five years of your grandmother's death, or before each of your twenty-fifth birthdays. You are...over twenty-five, I take it?”
I nodded, licking my lips.
“Then,” he said, setting the papers down on his desk, “you have five years to acquire a college degree, or else you will be considered in breach of trust.”
I looked at my siblings, then back at the lawyer. “What...what does that mean, exactly?”
“It means that your portion of the funds would be equally distributed among the other heirs.”
I looked at my brother and sister. They didn't meet my eye.
“But I don't have to worry about that, right?” Jimmy asked. “I mean, I graduated.”
“You'll just need to submit a copy of your transcripts,” the lawyer said. “And then you'll receive your inheritance.”
Jimmy smiled. I frowned at him, but I kept my mouth shut. He'd always been the smartest of us, at least as far as traditional education was concerned. He was basically a genius, or maybe a savant. Though he sorely lacked in common sense and he was horrible at personal interaction. I was pretty sure that whatever was wrong in his head, in addition to occasionally giving him panic attacks, also made it hard for him to empathize with other people or understand their emotions.
We went over some more details with the lawyer, and each of us was given copies of the will, along with all of the information we'd need about the trust funds. When it was all finished, I headed out to my car and sat on the hood, flipping through the pages of the will, trying to get my head around it.
“Mom?” Ariella asked. “I don't get it. Do we not get any money?”
I looked across the parking lot at Jimmy and his wife as they got into his Prius. “I'm not sure, dear.”
I shoved the papers into my purse. “Wait in the car. I need to go talk to your uncle.”
Chapter 3
“Jimmy,” I said, walking over to him and stopping in front of his car. “Can we talk?”
He exchanged a look with his wife. She glanced my way, but said nothing. We'd never met before the funeral. They'd only been married for a few weeks. She was also pregnant, though my dad claimed that Jimmy had told him they'd gotten engaged before they ever knew about the pregnancy.
Jimmy gestured for her to wait in the car. He stepped away and closed the driver's side door, then walked over to stand in the shade of the office building. He stuck his hands in his pockets and watched me approach. I tried to get a read on what he was thinking or feeling, but it was hard to tell. Especially with the dark sunglasses he was wearing.
“That money is going to make a big difference for Ariella,” I said.
He nodded and rubbed his chin. “Yeah. Yeah, I bet it will. I'm pretty glad about it myself. I'm going to have a kid soon. Did Dad tell you?”
“Yeah.” I forced a smile. “She's due in December?”
He nodded, looking back to the car where his young wife waited. “Yeah, we're both pretty excited. I think I'm going to be a good father.”
I didn't know what to say to that. It was hard for me to imagine Jimmy as a father. Despite everything I knew about his mind not working quite the same as anyone else's, he was a bright guy. And I guess he'd always been honest and supportive. He'd helped me out financially a few times, before we stopped talking. I figured he could be a good father, maybe. His heart was in the right place. I just worried that his emotional problems would cause difficulties.
“The thing is,” I said, “I didn't finish college. I went to like one semester before PJ and I split up and I had to drop out.”
“But now's your chance!” he said, grinning. “You can go for free. Grandma's money is going to pay for it.”
“Jimmy, I can't go back to college now.” I spread my arms to either side. “I'm twenty-seven years old, I have a nine year old daughter, I've got an ex-husband who's in jail, and I've got a crappy waitressing job that barely pays the bills.”
“So quit.” He shrugged. “Even after paying for college, you'll have enough leftover to last for years.”
I sighed and rubbed my fingers against the bridge of my nose. “It's not that simple, Jimmy. Even if I started college, I wouldn't get money for anything besides tuition until after I graduate. The trust fund can't be used for rent, or groceries, or anything else.”
“Oh.” He rubbed his chin. “Well, once you finish school—”
“I'm not going back to college, Jimmy.”
He looked at me like I was stupid.
“But then you don't get any money,” he said.
“That's what I'm here to talk to you about. If I don't go, it's breach of trust. The rest of the money gets divided between the rest of you. Well, you, Charlotte, and Ben, I guess. But you can just repay me my share, and—”
“Why should I do that?”
I frowned at him, putting my hands on my hips. “What?”
“Well, I don't see why I should help you cheat the will. I'm pretty sure that's illegal.”
“Jimmy, it's not illegal. You'd just be helping me out. I need the money.”
“Yeah, so do I.” He looked at his pregnant wife. “I'm going to buy a house, and put the rest in a savings account for my kid. Make sure she can go to college when she grows up.”
“I want that for my k
id too,” I said. “But I'm drowning in debt right now. I can't catch up. I just need your help. Even if I can't get Charlotte and Benjamin to help, if you got one-third of my share, that's, what, more than $60,000? It would pay out to you right away, since you've already graduated. And then you just need to give me my share.”
He started heading for his car. “I'm not helping you cheat the system, Donna. I don't see what the big deal is. Just go to college. It's what Grandma wanted.”
“It's not that easy!” I threw out my arms, shouting across the parking lot at him. “You don't understand. You haven't raised a kid alone for the last nine years.”
“Don't blame me for your mistakes.” He opened the door to his car. “I helped you plenty in the past, and what did it get me? For God sakes, Donna, last time we talked you threw me out of your house.”
“I didn't...” I trailed off, not sure I could really deny that. Jimmy had stayed with me for about a year, when he moved out of Mom's house. We'd been roommates in a cramped townhouse, and it had been...difficult, to say the least. He'd moved out when he met his old girlfriend, the one who had ended up cheating on him. We'd had an argument on his last day, and it had ended with me shouting at him and demanding he give me back his key, since he was leaving.
I suppose I'd been angry. I think, in a way, I'd felt betrayed. Abandoned. I'd been counting on him to help me out with the bills while we lived together. He'd been so focused on falling in love and starting his new relationship that he hadn't stopped to think that by leaving me, he was sticking me with the rent and all the bills on my own. I'd struggled for the next six months after he moved out, until I finally had to get out of my lease and move into a smaller place in a crappier neighborhood. I'd never recovered financially.
Maybe it was unfair for me to blame him. After all, it's not like he didn't have a good reason to move out. Even if the girl he'd moved in with had turned out to be a bitch. We hadn't spoken, other than trading a few emails here and there, since the day he left. For awhile I'd kept telling myself that he was the one who needed to call me first, and apologize. Looking back on it, maybe I was the one who owed him an apology. But I guess it was too late for that now.