“Sort of boss,” I remind him with a playful smile that he doesn’t return.
“I realize I’m older than you and out of the loop on what’s trending but how does one accidentally stumble and marry someone, let alone their boss? No judgement but I’m genuinely curious.”
My head hangs low, peering at my vacant ring finger. Rubbing it, I try to think of how to explain this beyond unconventional situation.
“Ri, you know you can talk to me. I’m not like Dad.”
“I know.” Him and Noah are the furthest things from our dad. If anything, they have stepped in and been more of a father figure than he has.
“Fine,” I sigh.
Word vomit ensues and I tell him everything —minus our mirrored room moment– down to how a plus one date turned into a real on paper, but temporary, marriage.
I’m not sure how I was expecting him to react, but one thing is for sure, it’s not how he is right now.
Excitement like I’ve never seen before from him glosses over his demeanor as he takes what appears to be a celebratory hit of weed.
“Anyway, it’s just so I can have a date to Harper’s wedding and dad off my back. Then I guess find a way to the attorney that drew up the will, so I can get what Grandma left for me.” As I say it out loud, I’m reminded all over again how complicated this all is.
“You know as well as I do that Grandma would have never worded her will the way it was presented to us. She didn’t hold the same archaic and controlling values that Dad does. She wasprogressive. Kind. She wanted you, and all of us, to find our own paths. We haven’t been able to prove it, but I know he somehow altered that will. Now that you’re married, you can get what is yours to inherit, and since you’re home, us and Tomás will be around to make sure everything goes as it’s supposed to.”
“It’s not real.”
“Make it real long enough that you get what’s owed to you.”
Words escape me as Liam asks if I want to go out by the firepit where Tomás and Noah are. I decline, saying I’m tired and ask where we’ll be staying. Liam shows me to our room and I wait until he leaves so I can crawl into bed and do what I’ve wanted to do since coming back home. Cry.
I can’t believe she’s gone. The woman I called Grandma out loud but Mom in my heart, is gone. Off to wherever exists after we leave this earth. Hopefully dancing to Frank Sinatra with my papa. Existing in infinite bliss, no longer in pain, no longer suffering.
She was the only thing holding me here in the place I’ve called home. Now, I can head to New York without the guilt of leaving her behind.
All I need to do first is stop by my parents’ —since the attorney will be there to read the will— and then I’ll be gone.
I don’t plan on coming back here. Not unless one of my siblings needs me for something.
My parents won’t miss me.
If anything, since calling off the wedding with James, my dad has barely spoken to me.
The text he sent me about the meeting with the attorney was the first time I’ve been contacted by him since Grandma’s passing.
I go through the motions when I get to my parents’. Hugging them hello. Pretending like we have a loving relationship, when really what we have is severed obligations, which are about to come to an end now that I’m leaving.
I tune out most of the meeting.
I don’t care about the assets.
I don’t want her money.
I want her…here…alive.
It isn’t until the will reading is about to conclude that I snap myself from my daze and speak up.
“What about Grandma’s rings?”
“What about them?” my father asks, cold as can be. He proceeds to read a stipulation in her will that I was not expecting.
“What do you mean I can only receive the ring if I’m married?”
