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
Senia walks through the front door of our new condo wearing a black knee-length trench coat and black boots that cover her knees. She shakes off her umbrella outside before she stuffs it in the umbrella stand just inside the door. When she looks up, her face is glowing with mischief.
“That lady stumbled all over herself apologizing.” She’s talking about Carissa’s mom who unfairly judged Molly that time Carissa got her drunk. “I shared some phony memories of Grandma Flo with her – how she taught me to read and bake a pie, stuff like that. I hope that woman wallows in her guilt for at least a couple of days.”
I set down the bowl of cereal I just fixed for myself and try to figure out why she’s so damn happy about this. Then it dawns on me.
The doctor told Senia and me that we had to wait two weeks after Senia lost the baby before we could have sex again. It’s been an excruciating two weeks. The first night, we tried very hard not to touch each other, but that didn’t last. We ended up making out and feeling each other up for a about five minutes before I finally told her I couldn’t take it any more. We’ve spent the last two weeks making out like teenagers for hours in our bed and, well, the oral sex has been great, but it’s not the same as being inside her. Nothing is as good as being inside her.
“It’s been two weeks,” she declares as she walks toward me. “Molly is away for the weekend. The wait is over.”
I clasp my hand around the back of her neck and pull her toward me. Her lips are soft and cool from being outside. I kiss her hungrily and she gives me a soft mmm sound, which gets me even hotter.
“You ready to try out that steam room?”
“This condo doesn’t have a steam room. Besides, I’d rather steam up this room.”
She grabs the front of my shirt and drags me out of the kitchen, around the breakfast bar, and toward the dining table. She pulls out a dining chair and makes me sit on it backwards, so my chest is facing the back of the chair. Then she strips her coat off, slowly undoing each button, and I’m not surprised to see that she’s stark naked underneath except for a pair of black knee-high tights. She slips her boots off and I feel the excitement and longing growing with my erection. I hastily pull my wallet out of my back pocket and toss it aside once I have a condom in hand. She smiles as I undo my jeans and slide it on, then she climbs onto my lap.
I groan as she lowers herself onto me. “Fuck, yes.”
Cradling her face in my hands, I kiss her slowly and try to focus on her mouth instead of the pleasure of being wrapped inside her. I don’t want to come too quickly. Thankfully, she moves slowly up and down the length of my cock, completely stopping when she feels I’m getting close.
I slide my hand between us to reach her clit and she throws her head back. I suck on the column of her throat, savoring the vibration of her moans as they tickle my lips. If it weren’t for this condom, I would have exploded by now. Even so, I wrap my arm tightly around her waist and hold her still so I can just caress her for a bit.
“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper against her skin and she whimpers as she gets closer to orgasm. I remove my hand from between her legs and lift her off my lap. “Get up. I don’t want to come yet.”
She stands and I sit there admiring her body for a moment. Her round breasts and curvy hips look practically edible. And the fucking knee-highs!
“Put one foot on the chair.”
She smiles as she lifts her leg and points her toe as she sets it down on the seat of the chair. I kneel before her and slide my fingers inside her to unearth her wetness. She places one hand on the back of the chair while her other hand clutches my hair for support. I massage her a little until I think she’s close to climax, then I part her flesh and take her clit into my mouth.
“Oh God,” she breathes, her body trembling as I lovingly massage and suck her clit as if it were my only source of lifeblood. For me, it is.
Her legs begin to weaken as she comes and I keep one arm wrapped firmly around her thigh and the other around her waist to hold her steady. She screams my name so loudly, I nearly come at the sound of it. I quickly stand up, completely unable to hold back this urge any longer. I lift her off the ground and she deftly wraps her legs around my hips. I pin her against the wall and let out a rapturous moan as I sink into her.
“I love you,” I whisper in her ear, burying my face in her neck. “I love you so fucking much.”
“I love you more.”
I don’t say I love you most because I don’t argue with Senia. There’s no sense in arguing with her. She always wins. But as I come harder than I’ve ever come, I can’t help but feel like I’m the one who won today.
Our bodies are stick
y with sweat as I carry her to the bedroom. I lay a few soft kisses on her shoulder as I walk and she clutches a fistful of my hair as she attempts to catch her breath. When I lay her down on the bed, I laugh as she yanks me down on top of her and wraps her arms and legs tightly around me.
“Don’t leave.”
I kiss her temple and nuzzle my nose against her ear. “I won’t.”
One. Two. Three.
I was 12 years old and it was just 3 weeks.
One. Two. Three.
Grandma. Molly. Me.
One. Two. Three.
Senia. Me. The baby.
One. Two. Three.
Grandma Flo’s radiant face materializes at my side. It’s my ninth birthday and the smell of cake is sweet in the air. She leans in and whispers in my ear, “Count to three and make a wish.”
Looking down at Senia where she’s fallen asleep next to me, hugging my arm like a teddy bear, my only wish is that the ones I love never feel the need to abandon hope.
Epilogue
4.5 years later
Late August in Cary is a sight to behold. Emerald-green grass and trees as far as the eye can see. This is one of the things I missed after leaving my house in Cary. But Senia and I enjoyed the life we created in Chapel Hill: going out for the occasional beer with the rest of the gang when they weren’t busy having kids or traveling. When they weren’t around, Senia and I got very good at pretending to know what the heck we were doing with Molly. Maybe we did know what we were doing because she’s still living with us – in our new house in North Raleigh – even though she started classes at UNC last week.
But it’s no surprise that she didn’t feel like coming to a birthday party for a four-year-old. She has to draw the line somewhere. As I pull our car into Chris and Claire’s curved driveway, I can’t help but feel a bit nostalgic for the brief time Molly spent here with Senia and me. The three of us have made a pretty great team and sometimes it’s hard to remember that she’s not my daughter – especially since I never heard from Elaine again after Grandma’s funeral. I wish I could say I worry about Elaine, but I don’t.
The crying begins just as I kill the engine. “She’s calling your name,” I say to Senia as I open the car door.
“She’s two months old,” she replies as she slides out of the passenger seat and immediately opens the door to the backseat. “If she’s able to call either of our names, it has to be yours, Da-Da.”
“Very funny.”
Senia caught me trying to teach Sia – short for Florencia – how to say Da-Da the other day. I’m not stupid. I know she can’t speak yet, but there’s no harm in hammering it into her head. Da-Da will be the first word she says.
She takes Sia out of the car seat and I grab the baby bag from the trunk. I can’t help but reach for her feather-soft cheeks as we walk toward Chris and Claire’s front door. I wish I could touch those cheeks all day long.
Senia doesn’t bother knocking or ringing the doorbell; she just walks right in. Old habits die hard and Chris and Claire are family so it makes no sense to knock here. Besides, I work here and they’re all probably out in the backyard celebrating Jimi’s fourth birthday already. We’re a little late to the party today because Senia wouldn’t leave until Molly understood the concept of standard deviation. I’m glad someone in this family understands statistics.
I don’t know much about anything other than music, which is why, when I decided to quit touring, I expanded the small music studio I originally installed in this house — with Chris and Claire’s permission. We now record all our albums here in Cary, but when it’s time to tour, Chris and Jake take Will Rawlings in my place. I know Grandma would be proud to know that I never abandoned my family when they needed me.
Jake spots us first as we walk through the back doors out onto the patio. It’s a small party for a few family and friends, so I should have no problems executing my plans for later today. I just need to make sure Chris and Claire do their part.
“Hey, man,” Jake says, giving me a one-armed bro-hug.
Rachel kisses both Senia and I on the cheek, then she gazes longingly at Sia. “Can I hold her?”
“Of course,” Senia replies as she hands over my precious girl.
Rachel wanted to wait until the touring slowed down before she and Jake had kids. They were all set to start trying for a baby next year, until Rachel developed PCOS – polycystic ovarian syndrome. Now, she’s not sure she wants to take the risk of having a miscarriage. I’ve tried to get Senia to talk to her about it, but Senia still has a little bit of a problem talking about the baby we lost. There’s something that happens when you lose a child, no matter what stage