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“And who is that boy?” I snap, emotion threatening to take over. “He’s a grown man with a busted knee and no other prospects. I’m no good for anything else. I never have been. This was it, Ira. This was it.”
Ira pauses for a moment, seemingly taking in what I just said. I turn my head back to the ceiling as the two of us sit in silence, the weight of the situation slowly dawning on us. With a defeated sigh, Ira stands up from his chair, reaches for his cane as he makes his way to the bed and sits beside me.
“Look at me,” he commands my attention, yet I know if I look into his eyes, I won’t be able to hold my emotions back any longer. “God dammit, Warren, look at me!” He places his hand on my shoulder.
My tearful eyes eventually peer up. “Don’t count yourself out so soon, my boy,” he whispers with reassurance. “When one journey ends, that can only mean another one is about to begin.”
TWO
D E L A N E Y
PRESENT DAY
“Hello,everyone. Thank you all for being here today. I know how busy each of your schedules are, so we’ll make this as brief as possible. With that said, let’s commence the official reading of the will of Ira Matthews.”
It’s been six months since the passing of our beloved grandpa, or as I always called him—Gramps. Gramps never loved my nickname for him, but he loved me, so I guess that’s why he put up with it for twenty-five years. He was always good to people like that.
Gramps was the peace amidst all the chaos of our family. He was the voice of reason, supportive, and most of all, humble.
Gramps started from nothing, and throughout his eighty-four years of life, he went on to create an unrivaled legacy. By the time he was my age, he had a net worth of over five million dollars as a result of his serial entrepreneurship. Eventually, he went on to make his mark in the realm of real estate. At the time of his death, he had acquired over 12 properties throughout the United States and England—his second home.
My dad joined Gramps’ real estate empire as soon as he was out of college—which means we’re now one of Houston's wealthiest yet greediest families.
The way everyone was debating about what they were entitled to before our family lawyer, Mr. Cunningham walked in the room, proved that to be true.
“Grandpa said he was leaving the Mercedes for me,” Mabel, my cousin, boasts proudly.
“Nuh-uh! He told me to my face that I was the one getting the Benzandthe Caddy!” Her sister, Connie, folds her arms in a huff.
I can’t help but roll my eyes at their little display, but they aren’t the only ones debating which of Gramps’ riches are soon to be theirs.
Aunt Maggie wants our late Grandma’s 22-karat diamond engagement ring. Uncle Roger has been eyeing Gramps’ limited-edition golf kit from Belgium and my parents? Well, they’re most concerned about who Gramps left his properties to—the greatest assets of all.
It’s all too overwhelming. It’s as if everyone’s forgotten one simple thing—that Gramps had to pass away for us to have even inherited half of this stuff. Have we all just moved on already?
I seem to be the only one in this room with a heart—and a desire to spend one more day with him. Something that would’ve surmounted any material items he could’ve left behind.
We may have been generations apart, but Gramps was genuinely my best friend. He was the only person in this family who actually kept me sane. Gramps knew me like no one else did, and I fear now that he’s gone, no one else ever will.
“We’ll start with the estate,” Mr. Cunningham speaks as he stands at the front of the room, commanding everyone’s attention.
I never thought that the culmination of one’s most prized possessions—and a lifetime of hard work—could be easily divided, pawned, and charted off in the span of 20 minutes. Nor do I think I’ve ever heard so many technical words in my life.Bequeathed, appendix, trustee?
I have no idea what a single one of them means. All I know is that everyone around me is absolutely thrilled.
Aunt Maggie got not only the diamond ring she wanted but Grandma’s entire jewelry collection that dates back to the 30s. I fear Aunt Maggie isn’t the collector type. She sees these precious gems as an easy cash grab to funnel her real passion: Saturday nights at the roulette table.
Much to his dismay, Uncle Roger doesn’t get the golf clubs. He started to kick up a fuss about that one until it was revealed that he was about to inherit Gramp’s entire collection of boats and yachts (yes,collection). That sure beats a couple of sticks, if you ask me.
Tweedle-dee and tweedle dumb—Mabel and Connie, don’t get their dream cars, but with the cash allowance that Gramps left them both, they’ll be able to buy those cars ten times over.
And to top it all off, I don’t think I’d ever seen my parent’s eyes light up more than they did when Dad got appointed the sole beneficiary of all of Gramps’ U.S. and U.K. properties.
As everyone celebrates amongst themselves, I’m left to wonder…what about me? The only one who didn’t show up today with selfish intentions?
The lawyers say there was apparently an oversight in processing my inheritance—one that’s going to take at least a few more weeks to resolve.
I don’t care.
