Thirty Days: Part Three (A SwipeDate Novella)

by BT Urruela

  Suddenly, Sami takes her hand off mine, and she moves toward the bangle around her opposite wrist. She pulls it off and sets it in the center console. She licks her finger tips and rubs the inside of her wrist. Concealer smudges and smears, and she repeats the process until I see it. The unmistakable scar from a razorblade’s edge, stretching two inches down from the bottom of her palm. She holds it out for me to see, the tears running down her face freely. The windows have fogged from the heat inside. I’m stunned as I trace the line with my eyes first, and then with the tip of my thumb. I trail my thumb back and forth gently, before moving it up to her cheek and wiping at her tear-coated cheeks.

  “I don’t know what to say…” my voice trails, my hand still resting against her cheek and a heaviness in my heart.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” she says, wrapping her fingers around my wrist and leaning her cheek into my palm. “Just know you’re not alone. And your honesty, it means more to me than you’ll ever know.” She smiles softly, her eyes puffy and cheeks red. I brush a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, wrap my fingers around the nape of her neck, and I pull her in—kissing her with delicate force, and impassioned conviction. The taste and feel of her lips is even better than I remember. The salty taste of our tears merging is a nice little reminder that I’m not the only one to have suffered in this life—that there are others out there like me, hurting and searching for a cure. And no matter how long I’ve known this woman, no matter how much more there is to learn, I know I’ve found her.

  I’ve found my cure.

  The lawyer clicks his pen as he stares at the clock, and then at the papers in front of him, and back again. An awkward silence sits heavy in the room.

  “I’m ready to get this show on the road whenever you are,” I say, pulling his eyes to me as he nudges his thick glasses back up the bridge of his nose, sweat trickling down from his receding hairline.

  “Still waiting on one more,” he responds, his lips pursing together. “She was supposed to be here at eleven as well.”

  “She?”

  “Yeah, a Mrs. Janet Mazzarelli.” He eyes me over his glasses as my mouth falls open.

  “My fucking mother’s coming here?”

  “She’s supposed to be. Set up a flight last week for her, in accordance with your grandmother’s request.” It’s not hard for me to fathom my grandmother leaving something to my mom, but to fly her all the way out here? To force me to sit in the same room with her… it feels like some sick joke.

  “Are you sure there isn’t some kind of misunderstanding here?” I ask, and he shakes his head firmly.

  Holding up a sheet of paper, he says, “No, it’s all right here. Grace requested your mother be flown in. A portion was set aside to pay for it and we were advised to contact her to set it up immediately.”

  “And you didn’t bother to inform me?”

  His brows pinch together. “We didn’t feel it was necessary, her being your mother and all. And besides, we were under strict guidance not to inform you.”

  “By my grandma?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, fuck me.”

  My mind runs through the possibilities of my grandma trying to pull some trick to get us speaking again. It’s hard to believe, as she understood how my mother is, how she feels about her kids, and how little she cared about her own mother, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.

  “This should be interesting,” I gripe, slouching over and rubbing my temples. “I just can’t believe she’d do this to me. I really can’t. She did that will how long ago? Is there a chance she changed things in it when she wasn’t in the right state of mind?”

  “Nope. It was last modified six and a half years ago, without any changes since then. And she seemed sharp as a tack to me.”

  “Yeah, back then she would’ve been. I just don’t get it. I haven’t spoken to my mother in probably eight years. There’s a lot of bad blood there.”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know what to tell you. Just following your grandma’s directives.”

  Just as he finishes speaking, there’s a knock at the door, and I whip my head around to face it. The receptionist slips her head in and nods toward the lawyer.

  “Mr. Banks, Mrs. Mazzarelli has arrived,” she says, and he waves his hand forward.

  “Let her in, please. Thank you, Cheri.”

  Cheri nods and opens the door wide, letting my mother slip past her. As soon as she hits the room, the stale smell of old cigarettes joins her.

  “It’s Ms. Mazzarelli,” she corrects the receptionist with a bite to her tone, her voice gravelly and raw. “I ain’t married to that fuckin’ asshole anymore.”

  Cheri lets out an awkward laugh as she shuts the door behind my mother, who looks as if she hasn’t changed her clothes in months. There are stains on it and holes where they shouldn’t be. She doesn’t pay me any mind as she walks around the chair to my right and plops down. My eyes are on her as I’m caught in some fucked up trance, hardly believing what I’m seeing.

  She smacks the back of her hand against my arm, her lips curling into a wicked little smile, her yellowing teeth set behind them, and she asks, “How you been, kid?”

  I don’t say anything. My voice is caught in my throat. Her smile disappears and thick frown lines jut down from her chapped lips. “Well, fuck. I didn’t remember having no mute kid.”

  I swallow, pushing past the tightness in my throat. “And here I was, thinking I didn’t have a mother anymore.”

  She grunts out a laugh, her eyes roaming to the lawyer. “You ain’t that lucky. Now, Mr. Lawyer Man, let’s get down to business.” She rubs her hands together. You can almost see the dollar signs in her pupils. “Enough catch up with the boy. What did she leave me?”

  I can only just laugh and shake my head. “You’re something else. I mean really. Wow.”

  She ignores me, her eyes still on the lawyer as he nervously clears his throat. “Uh, well, she left a note to read to you both. If you’re both ready…” His eyes are on me and I nod for him to proceed. “So, again, I will be reading her statement, and then we’ll go over how everything will be distributed.”

  “Any way to just get to the distribution part of it?” my mother grunts, and he shakes his head.

  “Sorry, this is how she wanted it and we have to respect the wishes of our clients.”

  “Well, get on with it then,” she says, impatiently waving her hand at him.

  He clears his throat and holds the paper up, beginning to read.

  “Janet and Gavin… I can only imagine this is a surprise to you both. I’m sorry about that. There is a specific way I wanted to do this. It’s how I’ve always wanted to do it, and it’ll require patience and understanding on both your parts. I’m dead now, obviously, so I guess I get to do things my way and you’ll just have to grin and bear it.

  “Gavin, you have made me so very proud. I knew since you were a little boy that you’d be something special one day, and I’m just so proud of the man you’ve become. I wish so much that we had more time together, and I hope, at the very least, you know that I have always loved you with everything in my heart. John does, too. Don’t let the darkness overtake you, my love. Don’t let evil win. Stand strong in your convictions, be proud of the man you are, and let go of the past that haunts you. You are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. Be well, dear Gavin, and know that I’ll be there, just beside you, forever and always.”

  I fight the tears that ache to escape my eyes as I listen to my grandmother’s words, my heart thumping in my chest. I glance over and see nothing but annoyance in my mother’s eyes. She huffs loudly and fidgets in the chair.

  The lawyer continues, “I’ve set aside most of our savings for John’s care, and the care I’ll eventually need, but anything that’s left after we go… it’s yours. The stocks your grandpa got years ago are, too. Spend it wisely, but more than anything, live your life to the fullest. Love freely, and
without hesitation. Finish that book of yours, if you haven’t already by the time this reaches you, and chase your dreams. I don’t know how much money it will be, but I know you’ll—”

  “Wait!” my mother screeches, sitting forward in her chair and wagging a finger at the lawyer. “If he’s getting all the money and stocks and shit, what the hell’s left for me? Why the fuck did she fly my ass out here?!”

  “Mrs. Mazzarelli, if you’ll just let me—”

  “Ms. Mazzarelli! I already fuckin’ told you. Now, read your stupid fuckin’ paper and I swear to God, you better have some good news coming for me real soon.”

  The lawyer’s face is red, the sweat really coming down now. “I’m sorry, Ms. Mazzarelli, if you’ll just let me finish.”

  She motions for him to continue, slamming back into her chair with a loud scoff. She scowls at me as I fight the smile pulling at my lips.

  The lawyer steadies the paper and begins reading again. “But I know you’ll do what’s right. I don’t trust your brother enough to include him in this, but oh how I do love him. I always have. He’s just so dang hard-headed. Please, make sure he’s alright. Help him out with the money when he needs it. Just be smart about it. You always did look up to him, even when it was for the wrong reasons. Love him with all your heart, Gavin. Unconditionally. He needs it. I love you, Gavin. ‘Til forever and then some…” He stops reading and his eyes fall on my mother. “Janet…” She perks up at the sound of her name. “Oh, how I ache for you. We never thought we’d have kids. We weren’t supposed to. And when you came, being as old as we were, we were both shocked and completely elated. You were our beautiful little miracle. We did the best we could, trying to raise you right. We loved you and gave you everything you could ever want, often to your own detriment. You’re our only child. And regardless of how you feel about us, about the life we tried to give you, just know we never stopped loving you. We never could. In saying that, I’ve decided on a special gift for you, something to remember me by. I hope you like it. Love you always, with everything I have. Your father and I both do. Finally, Gavin, please send the attached letter to your brother. He may not be as much a part of our lives as he once was, but that could never change how we feel.”

  Mr. Banks sets the sheet of paper down and riffles through some folders and random bundles of paper atop his desk.

  “Well, where’s this damn present?” Mom asks, a hungry look in her eyes. “Out with it.”

  “Sorry, it’s around here somewhere…” He finds a wrapped package with a red bow, in what looks like the shape of a book, and says, “Aha. Here we are.” He hands it over to her and she eyes it curiously, letting it dangle in the air. “Please, take it,” he says, and she finally obliges, flipping it back and forth between her hands with an ugly scowl on her face.

  “This better be a fuckin’ book of money, or some oversized checkbook,” she says, arching an eyebrow.

  “Ma’am, I have no idea. I just do as I’m directed.”

  She finally settles it in her lap and pulls the ribbon loose, tossing it to the side. She slips a nail in the taped wrapping paper and pulls, ripping it off the book and throwing it on the ground beside the ribbon. She turns the book over and reads the cover in the same moment I do, though our reactions are quite the opposite.

  For Your Own Good: Hidden Cruelty in Child-Rearing and the Roots of Violence by Alice Miller.

  I squeak out a chuckle and she curses under her breath.

  “There’s a note here that asks for you to read the inscription,” Mr. Banks says, a smile tugging at his lips.

  She slowly opens the book to the front page and I can see Grandma’s writing inside. I peer over her shoulder at it, squinting my eyes to make it out.

  Janet, you will never understand the damage you caused your kids. I saw it, intensified, every single summer they came to visit us. I thought this might be a good place for you to start in finding out how your selfishness, hatred, and complete lack of care or concern has affected your children, your father and me, and just about anyone else you’ve ever been in contact with. I also thought it’d be pretty dang funny. Sorry, I missed your reaction. Hope, at least, Gavin is enjoying it.

  Love always,

  Your Mother

  P.S. This will be the only thing you get out of us, as there is no greater gift I could give someone like you.

  I finish reading a few seconds before she does, a shit-eating grin on my face, as I wait for her to respond. She lets out a gasp, her face turning shades of red as she tilts her head toward me, a fire in her eyes. She lifts the book, her eyes locked on mine, and throws it across the room. It hits the wall with a thud, falling to the floor, along with a few of Mr. Banks’ framed certificates.

  “You wipe that smile off your fuckin’ face, boy,” she growls, her hands balled into fists. “You set this up, didn’t you?” She rockets up from her chair and jams a finger in my face. “Didn’t you?”

  “Mrs. Mazzarelli.” He emphasizes the ‘Mrs.’, no doubt on purpose this time. “I promise you, I sat right here with your mother, six something years ago, and put all this together with her. This was her doing, and only her doing.”

  She turns to him sharply, a deep frown on her face, her neck veins throbbing beneath her skin. She goes to say something, but scoffs instead, turning and making her way to the door. She spins back, her hand on the door knob, and yells, “This ain’t the end, Mr. Lawyer Man. Not even close! You’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”

  She swings the door open, and before she leaves, I turn back and in a sing-song tone, I say, “Love you, Mommmm.”

  Her skinny, cigarette-stained middle finger pops up from her fist, and she waves it at the both of us, yelling, “Fuck you,” in her ragged voice, before she whips around and stomps out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  I burst out into laughter once she’s gone, shaking my head as a giddiness takes hold. My little spitfire of a grandmother had the last laugh, and the little devil never let me in on it. And oh, how glorious of a feeling it is.

  “Well, now that that part’s done,” he says with a smile, wiping the sweat from his brow. “As Grace said in her letter, there isn’t much in the way of savings left, after her care the past few years, and your grandfather’s before it—just a notch over ten thousand dollars—but here’s the real kicker… Your grandfather was quite the shrewd investor.” He holds out a sheet of paper and I take it from him, glancing at it, but it doesn’t make much sense to me.

  “What’s this?”

  “Those are the shares their estate currently holds. Hell, what your grandpa held onto most of his life. He was a responsible old bastard. I guess he invested in Apple, several thousand shares, back in the eighties. Coca-Cola, a few hundred shares for that one, in the sixties. HP, Pennzoil, Pfizer, Johnson & Johnson, the list goes on and on. A couple hundred of each. All purchased in the eighties or before.” He’s got a broad smile on his face as if he knows something I haven’t quite figured out yet. He continues, “If you’ll turn it around, it’ll show you what his total investments are currently worth.”

  I flip the paper, scan it, and when I see the number, sitting there at the bottom of the page with more zeroes and commas than I’ve ever seen in my life, my eyes bug out of my head. My heart pounds in my chest. My mouth gapes as my eyes trail slowly back to him.

  Those sneaky, crafty, beautiful bastards.

  “So, it’s really done, huh?” Bobby’s voice carries through the speakerphone as I lean over the stove, moving around partially scrambled eggs in a pan. Bacon sizzles in a cast iron skillet behind it, and the waffle iron fills the kitchen with an aromatic combination of dough and melting chocolate chips.

  “Officially done, my friend. Sending it out to the publishers here in about five seconds. Editor said she was blown away.” I hesitate, feeling a wave of uncertainty creep over me. I quickly shake it off, forcing it from my thoughts. “I don’t know. I feel good about this one.”

  “I couldn’t
be happier to hear that. And, like I told you, I was blown away myself. Such an incredible story, Gavin. Really. When are you planning on releasing?”

  “Just before I head down to Texas here in a few weeks.”

  “What the hell’s in Texas?”

  “My brother. His son’s entering the world in a few months and I want to help him get ready for it and spend Christmas with him.”

  “Since when did you start talking to your brother again? I thought he left without saying anything?”

  “He did. And then he called me a few days ago. We had a really good talk, and I suppose, seeing and talking to me led to him having a talk with the mother of his child. They’re cordial now, I guess, and she’s gonna let him have a more hands-on approach than he originally thought.”

  “So, all good things then?”

  “Yeah, man. Really good.”

  “And how’s the lady?”

  As if on cue, Sami calls down the stairs. “Hey, babe… think we have time for a quickie before breakfast? I’m dying to have you inside me again,” she purrs, and it sends a jolt of pleasure straight through my shaft.

  I flip both burners off in quick succession and move the pans to pot holders on the counter. I yank the waffle iron cord from the wall and lean down toward my phone. “Uhhh, buddy. I’ve gotta go.”

  He busts out laughing and says, “Yeah, I heard. You go get her, tiger.” There’s a click over the line and I tilt my head the direction of the stairs.