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It turns out the third lawyer I left a message for was the one who drew up Grandma’s will. He calls me at 9:06 a.m., as if I’m the first person he decided to call after listening to all his voicemail messages. That, or I was the only message he had. Either way, I’m just glad to hear his voice. I’m even more glad when he tells me that I can come in that morning to go over the will.
After waiting around for nearly two hours for a second social worker to show up at the hospital, Elaine decided she couldn’t wait any more and left before the social worker got there. When the social worker, Mrs. Greenlee, arrived, she was more than happy to allow Molly to stay with me until everything is sorted out with Grandma’s will. It was less paperwork for her and I think she could see by the weariness in our faces that we had been through enough.
I send Elaine a text telling her to arrive at the lawyer’s office by 10 a.m. or I won’t hesitate to dredge up a witness to her sick crimes. I would never, in a million years, contact Ashley to ask her to talk about what happened nine years ago just for my sake. But, if I had to, I wouldn’t hesitate to do it for Molly.
Elaine strolls into the waiting room at Lynch & Mellman, LLC, trailed closely by her new boyfriend, Joe, and his pedo-stache. Like I was ever going to allow Molly to go anywhere with those two. She’s wearing sunglasses indoors at 10:07 a.m. and carrying a carton of milk with a straw sticking out. Her gait is loose and weighed down, but it isn’t until she starts scratching her neck and scalp that I realize she’s high.
I clench my jaw to keep from saying something I’ll regret before we read the will, then I stand from the chair and head for the receptionist’s desk. “We’re ready,” I tell her and she smiles shyly at me as she tucks her blonde hair behind her ear.
“Where’s Molly?” Elaine asks in that nasally slurred tone I thought I’d never hear again after I moved out of Grandma’s house.
“At home, where she should be,” I reply as the receptionist leads us down a hallway to Jonah Lynch’s office.
This is a tiny law office, but I didn’t expect much for an estate planning lawyer in Raleigh. Still, something about the quaintness of this space makes me uneasy. It could just be knowing that Grandma was in here four months ago discussing what she wanted to happen after her death. She’s not even gone and I can already feel her presence everywhere.
We enter Jonah’s office and he rounds the desk to greet us near the door. The office is bigger than I expected and it has a decent view of the eastern parking lot where the sun would rise if he ever came in early or stayed way too late; not that I have any illusions of estate lawyers being that passionate about their work. But I hope Jonah has more than a few drops of compassion in him because I may need it if Elaine sets me off today.
“Please have a seat,” Jonah says, motioning to the two chairs in front of his mahogany desk.
He looks fairly young, maybe early thirties, with neat brown hair and a blue suit that looks like it may even have been tailored for him. I don’t know why, but I trust him just by looking at him. I hope that’s the way Grandma felt when she came here.
“Maybe he should wait outside,” I say, pointing my thumb at Joe. “He’s not family.”
“Don’t be such a prick. He can stay,” Elaine slurs and Jonah looks uncomfortable. He can probably tell she’s not sober.
“Fine,” I reply, keeping my eyes on Jonah’s face. “Can we just get this over with?”
Jonah nods as he lifts a blue folder from his desk and opens it up. “First of all, let me say that I’m very sorry for what you’re going through.”
Elaine lets out a slow, low-pitched whimper as she begins to cry. Jonah looks to me for guidance and I nod my head for him to continue, but I’m angry. I’m angry at myself that I can hear Elaine’s cries and feel anything other than contempt. She doesn’t deserve my pity, yet I can’t help but feel bad for her. She’s losing the only parent she has left.
“Here’s a copy of your grandmother’s will, if you’d like to read along,” Jonah says, handing me a large white envelope.
I don’t bother opening it. I don’t think I could handle seeing the words printed on paper.
An hour later, we walk out of Lynch & Mellman, LLC, with the knowledge that my grandmother left me all her assets and, not surprisingly, she does not want to be kept on life support. No one says a word, until we reach the parking lot and I speak directly to Joe.
“I don’t know how much of this she’ll remember later, so you need to be straight with her and make her read her copy of the will.”
“I know what’s going on,” Elaine insists. I can’t see her eyes through the dark sunglasses and she’s hanging onto Joe’s wrist like a lifeline. “I ain’t as stupid as you think. I understood that lawyer-talk. I know she’s givin’ you everything because she hates me. I ain’t … I ain’t stupid.”
I shake my head at this response. “You’re not going to make me feel guilty for the fact that Grandma trusted me more than you.” I turn back to Joe. “When she’s sober, tell her everything and make her read it, even if she says she remembers. And tell her I’ll allow her to attend the funeral, but then make sure to tell her that I don’t give a shit if she ends up homeless for the rest of her life. She’s not getting a dime from Grandma or me, but … but if she wants the house, I’ll pay for her to go to rehab. Once she’s clean for a year, I’ll give her the house – no strings attached – as long as she promises never to come looking for Molly or me. Is that clear?”
Joe raises his craggily eyebrows as if he’s not impressed. “You can’t just forget your family.”
“She’s not my family. Never has been.”
I walk away feeling lighter than I’ve felt for the past two days. I still have to go to the hospital and do the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life, but I can do it now knowing for certain that it was Grandma’s last wish. And after all the wishes that came true for me because of her, this is the least I can do.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
We hold a small ceremony at the funeral home for Elaine to attend. Then we hold a private ceremony the next day where we bury Grandma’s ashes on a frosty morning under an elm tree in the backyard of our house in Cary. It’s January 5th. Chris and Claire and Jake and Rachel cut their honeymoons short so they could be here with us. Everyone heads inside to escape the cold, but Molly and I stay outside to spend just a little while longer with Grandma.
“We’re not guaranteed anything good in this life, Molly, but Grandma was something good.” I stare at the pewter urn that holds what’s left of the strongest woman I’ve ever known and I can’t believe I didn’t spend every waking moment of her final weeks with her since the diagnosis. “We were lucky.”
Molly sniffs loudly and wipes at her face. “I wish I felt lucky.”
“Yeah, me too.”
She grabs my forearm and the look on her face breaks my heart. “Sit with me for a while?” We sit on the cold, wet grass in silence for a few minutes before she speaks. “Grandma told me … she told me she had a dream that Senia had a baby girl. I forgot about this until last night when I was going through my room and I saw the dream catcher she gave me last year. She told me that she knew when you were born that you were destined to be surrounded by pretty girls for the rest of your life.” She stuffs her hands in her coat pockets and smiles. “I wish I’d told her that I’m not so pretty, just to get a smile out of her. I miss her smile already.”
This comment gives me an idea. Tonight, I’ll ask Senia to help me create a photo book for Molly composed solely of pictures of her and Grandma smiling. Senia was so happy when she finally found the box of old photos she needed for her project. She told me last night about all the plans she has to keep Molly busy over the next few weeks: a tour of the UNC campus, dinner with Chris and Claire, a winter bonfire in Carolina Beach, just to name a few. I was surprised to find that Molly had no objections to any of Senia’s suggestions.
“I have a pretty nice smile, too. Don’t you agree?”
I reply and she pushes me sideways.
“No, I don’t agree.”
“Well, you’re the only one, but you are kind of weird, so that makes sense.”
“Does Senia actually like it when you say stuff like that?”
“Senia loves it when I tell her she’s weird.”
She pulls one of her hands out of her coat pocket and reaches forward to break off a blade of frosty grass. She holds it up in front of her face, tilting it up and down and side to side as she watches the microscopic droplets of dew catch the rays of morning light. “You know what I’ll miss more than her smile?”
“Her laugh?”
“Her music.”
Grandma Flo always put on music while she was cooking. Her favorite was Frank Sinatra, but she had a not-so-secret love for all things Katy Perry. One of the last songs she asked Molly to download onto her iPhone was “Unconditionally.” I caught Grandma with her headphones on a couple of times, singing along to Katy as she scrolled through her newsfeed on Facebook. I think one of my biggest regrets will be that she never got to see me perform any of the songs on the new album.
Molly and I spend a little while longer, reminiscing about all the things we’ll miss the most, then we head back inside. We haven’t started packing yet. We still have ten days before Chris and I exchange homes. I’m not taking much with me, anyway. This house is huge and his condo barely has 1,700 square feet of living space. I’m only taking our beds, my instruments and equipment, and some personal items.
Molly heads straight for the slate fireplace in the living room to warm her hands as I head for the kitchen. It’s difficult not to reach for a beer or a bottle of vodka at a time like this, but I’m taking it one day at a time. I’m trying to be better, for Senia and Molly, and for the baby I never got to know.
From where she sits on a stool at the breakfast bar, Claire watches me as I enter the kitchen. Suddenly, she slides off the stool and throws her arms around me. I look to Chris and he shrugs as she continues to hold on. Finally, I lift my arms slowly and return the hug. A moment later, she lets go and wipes tears from her face as she walks out of the kitchen. Chris walks after her and I immediately look around for Senia. I find her sitting at the dining table with Rachel, both of them dabbing at their pink, puffy eyes.
I don’t have to say a word. She stands from the table and follows me upstairs to the bedroom to lie down.
“She’s just thinking of her mom,” Senia says as she lays her head on my shoulder, and I know she’s referring to Claire.
“I know. I just wasn’t expecting that.”
If there’s anyone who knows how unfair it is that we can’t choose our parents, it’s Claire. I used to envy her. Her mom was a heroin addict like Elaine, but she didn’t have to grow up with her mother the way I did. After her mother died, it took Claire a long time to find her way to Jackie’s house. I had Grandma all these years, but I was still constantly faced with the reminder of the childhood I lost every time Elaine showed up at Grandma’s and shit all over my day. Now, I realize that neither Claire nor I had it any easier. I got twenty-one years with Grandma and she only got seven years with her mom. Life isn’t fair, to anyone.
But God damn if it doesn’t always give us exactly what and who we need, exactly when we need them.
Chapter Forty
