Last Will

by Bryn Greenwood

  He left me the car keys and a little note that said, “I’m really sorry. I love you and I hope you can forgive me.” I didn’t know what to think about that. I wondered if he thought I would leave.

  Glorified Volunteer

  I was slowly migrating the adult fiction, when Ellen came down one of the aisles. We hadn’t been comfortable together since I came back. My change in status upset her view of the world. Only after I stopped what I was doing and stood up to look her in the face did she say, “There’s somebody here who says she’s your girlfriend.”

  “Really? She said that?” I thought it was just as likely that Ellen had made an assumption.

  “That’s how she introduced herself,” Ellen said. “Dark hair, very exotic-looking, pregnant?”

  “I know, I’m an asshole.” I parked the dolly full of books, squeezed past Ellen, and went to the lobby to find Meda and Annadore standing at the front desk.

  “You’re my girlfriend now?” I asked.

  “You were expecting someone else?”

  Meda blushed and looked annoyed that I’d brought it up.

  “I wanted to be sure I had it right.”

  Honestly, I was relieved Meda was still speaking to me. Also I didn’t mention that some of my ex-girlfriends had come out of the woodwork recently. They were the girls who would have married my money.

  I walked Meda and Annadore around the library and showed them what I was doing with the relocation. Once we got to the children’s section, though, Annadore wouldn’t let us go any further and started pulling books off the shelves that she wanted me to read to her.

  “I’m done moving the children’s books, but the re-shelving is a nightmare. The reference section and the adult fiction took precedence over this. Later I’ll have to come back and put these back in order.” Meda smiled indulgently at me, so I knew I was running at the mouth.

  “Could I help you do that?” she asked. “It turns out being a love slave is kinda boring. I can alphabetize.”

  “Sure. I’m nothing but a glorified volunteer here anyway. You might as well be.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “I’m not a librarian anymore or I’m an unpaid one. I guess I’m a professional philanthropist now.” It was not what I’d imagined I’d grow up to be.

  “Yeah, sometimes I forget that you’ve got like a billion dollars.” Meda could barely squeeze out a smile to support the suggestion that she was kidding.

  “I don’t know why that upsets you so much.”

  “He doesn’t know why that upsets me so much,” she said with an exasperated look.

  “Not marrying me isn’t going to protect you from that anyway. Guess who gets it all if I get hit by a bus.”

  “Your foundation.”

  “The part of it that’s being separated into the foundation, yes, but you’ll get the rest of it,” I said.

  She laughed. “You can’t do that.”

  “I already did. If I die, the foundation goes on the way I set it up and the rest of the money goes to you, with trust funds for Annadore and the baby.” It took five lawyers, four meetings, three conference calls and two separate nearly bloody battles to write my will. The first battle was over the putative paternity of the baby Meda was expecting. That was the one that ended in me almost punching a middle-aged attorney.

  The second battle was more philosophical and less pugilistic.

  “I think you’ll be sorry if you do this,” one of the lawyers said. I figured it wouldn’t matter to me once I was dead. Because I was the one paying the bills, I eventually won both of the disagreements without punching anyone.

  Winning any disagreement with Meda was a whole different story. Her amusement evaporated as what I’d said finally soaked in. She had a strange look on her face, the same look she’d had at the courthouse. I hoped she wouldn’t faint.

  “You can’t do that, can you? Without my say so?”

  “Actually, I can. You don’t have to get someone’s permission to put them in your will,” I said.

  “But why would you do that?” Her eyes got marginally wider and darker. She didn’t look well. I could have kicked myself.

  Whether You Like It or Not

  Meda

  I had to sit down on one of those little kiddy chairs, because I felt so funny. Maybe it was another panic attack. There was plenty of stuff to panic about.

  “Well, primarily, because I want to be sure you’re taken care of, and that Annadore and the baby are taken care. Secondarily, because who else would I leave it to? I don’t think I’m going to die any time in the near future, but when I do, I’m guessing my mother and Aunt Ginny, neither of whom need the money, will already be dead. Whether you like it or not, whether you’re my wife or not, you’re my other person in the world.”

  “There are other people in the world,” I said, shocked at how tiny my voice sounded.

  “But you’re the one who matters to me.”

  I sat there quietly until the queasy, numb feeling went away, and when I opened my eyes, there was Bernie, sitting on the floor in front of me with Annadore next to him. When you get to the point where you know the worst thing about someone you love, you know the truth about yourself. What I learned about myself from Travis was that I was blind. I only saw what I wanted to see when I was with Travis. Looking at Bernie, I knew I was too hard on him and on me. If he felt that way about me, he deserved for me to try harder. Thinking about all the good things and the scary things about him, I was glad that romance novel moment didn’t exist. It was the stupidest thing I ever wished for, like asking to get struck by lightning, when all I needed to do was turn on a light switch. Maybe I wouldn’t ever get to sleep with him. Maybe there wasn’t any way to undo what those people did to him. Whatever happened to break his heart, it was all he had. He couldn’t put that in a box and label it. I opened my purse, took out one of the ring boxes I’d been carrying around and set it on my knee.

  “Would you ask again and we can do it right this time?” I said.

  Bernie sat there for so long I started to think his pride was kicking in. Then he opened the box and smiled. He looked so happy, but the truth was I didn’t choose the ring. It just happened to be the huge rock he’d picked out. He got up on his knees a little awkwardly and then looked down at me, because with me sitting in that little chair, even kneeling he was taller than I was. It got us both giggling and I put my arms around him, so that was how he proposed, with my head on his shoulder.

  I said yes, again.

  Then some lady with a couple of screaming kids came in and asked if we were having the children’s reading circle.

  I read to the kids while Bernie went back to moving books.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MEDA’S MOTHER-IN-LAW

  Aunt Ginny

  Bernie misjudged his mother slightly, as she did come out for the wedding. Perhaps thinking of neutral ground, Bernie decided that he and Meda would pick her up at the airport and go to lunch. I invited myself along, not out of any desire to see the fireworks, but to stand by with a fire pail if I could.

  At the airport, Meda carried her belly so beautifully, like a gift. She sat between Bernie and me, holding his hand and wearing an anxious, but queenly smile. Annadore pranced around happily and Bernie looked uneasy. I didn’t hold out a great deal of hope that Katherine would make it easy, but the introductions between the two seemed polite enough.

  We managed the short trip from the airport to the restaurant without talking of anything more troublesome than her flight and the weather. Things faltered a bit once we were seated for lunch, and I was relieved I had invited myself, because someone needed to keep the conversation going. Absolutely nothing about the situation at hand had been discussed and it seemed inevitable that once we reached the topic, all my efforts would be wasted. It burst through as soon as Meda excused herself to go to the ladies’ room.

  “You didn’t mention that I was going to be a grandmother,” Katherine said with a touch of sm
ugness I found unbecoming. Bernie blushed. He was sensible to having created an awkward situation.

  “I know it’s a surprise and I’m sorry, but with one thing and another, I never got around to telling you,” he said.

  “A pleasant surprise, of course. A wonderful surprise for you, Katherine.”

  She did not appear to agree with me. At least it was a new irritation for her.

  Suffering Contest

  Meda

  When I came back from the bathroom, before I even sat down, Bernie’s mother said, “When are you due?”

  “September.”

  “I see.”

  She nodded and gave Bernie a disgusted look. He took it pretty well. I was a little mad he hadn’t told her before, but I could see why he hadn’t, when I was being so stupid. I waited to see what else she would say, but she changed the subject.

  “Bernie, did you ever go to the doctor about your pituitary?” She didn’t even wait to hear the answer. “I don’t know why you’re putting it off. You can’t honestly tell me you think it’s normal that you’re still growing at your age?”

  “Why does everything about me mean there’s a problem? Maybe I’m just tall,” Bernie said.

  “I’m only concerned for you,” Mrs. Raleigh said in a really snotty voice.

  “Maybe you could be concerned quietly to yourself.”

  “Well, perhaps you would have preferred me to be quietly concerned to myself while you were trying to commit suicide.” It made me sick to my stomach to hear it out loud the way she said it, for no other reason than to hurt him. Bernie’s jaw tightened up, and the tendons in his neck stood out, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Katherine, I don’t see why that’s necessary,” Aunt Ginny said.

  Bernie’s mother was quiet for a while and we all pretended to eat our lunch.

  “Of course, I suppose it’s easy to judge when you’ve never had to bury a husband and a son and the very same day have your only other child try to kill himself.” Mrs. Raleigh couldn’t let it go, but I wasn’t sure which one of us she was talking to, because I didn’t think any of us were judging her.

  “I swear to God,” Bernie growled, and there was something about hearing that voice and those words coming out of his mouth that made us all sit up and take notice. He said it loud enough that I think everyone in the restaurant sat up and noticed. “We are not having some kind of contest about suffering, because for the record, I think Aunt Ginny has you beat. Only one of your children is dead.”

  He didn’t mean it to hurt her, but his aunt flinched when he said it.

  Burden

  Aunt Ginny

  Meda reached out to touch my hand and after a few moments, our nervous waiter came to clear the table. Once he was gone, Katherine said, “Do you really think this is the best way to start a marriage? You’ve waited this long, why not wait a little longer? You can’t either of you be prepared for this.”

  “I’ve waited a little too long,” Bernie said. “And I don’t think it’s the worst way to start a marriage.”

  “I assume you’ve already taken care of the prenuptial agreement?” Katherine said.

  I regretted that we’d gone out to lunch. It all could have been handled much more nicely at home. Bernie made a visible effort to restrain himself.

  “That’s none of your business,” he said.

  “Of course not. I can’t imagine why it would be any of my business what you do. I assume you’re the father.”

  “I’m glad we’re not wasting our time being polite or anything,” Meda said.

  I would have forgiven her anything she’d chosen to say at that moment, and I was grateful she’d responded so quickly, because Bernie looked violent.

  Katherine leaned toward Meda and said, “Let’s not pretend this situation is other than what it is. Obviously you’ve decided that his money balances out against the fact that he’s mentally ill.”

  “Now that I’ve met you,” Meda said, “I’m amazed he’s only as screwed up as he is.”

  “Perhaps you’ll be a bit less quick to judge after he’s been your responsibility for thirty years.”

  “Have I been that much of a burden?” Bernie said, but he wasn’t prepared for the answer his mother gave him.

  “You can’t even begin to imagine.”

  “Try imagining what it would be like to go through life thinking your mother didn’t love you,” Meda said.

  “Well, that’s certainly very melodramatic. Is that what you tell her about me, Bernie?” Katherine said. He didn’t answer her.

  “Everyone says how much you loved your other son, that you loved Robby more, so I’m not even going to ask you about that,” Meda said. “I guess it’s not your fault, if that’s true. I’m just curious why you treat Bernie like it’s his fault he got kidnapped, like it’s his fault he has problems. Is it just to keep yourself from feeling guilty?”

  Bernie and I were accustomed to Katherine’s habit of storming out of the room when she was opposed, but when Katherine stood up and began gathering her things, Meda put her hand on Katherine’s arm and stopped her.

  Naturally

  “Don’t touch me. If you’re stupid enough to believe everything he tells you, you’ll get what you deserve,” my mother said. Meda stood up, causing a minor collision between her belly and my mother’s narrow hips.

  “The only thing he’s ever told me about you is that he thinks you don’t love him. And that’s as true as it gets, because that’s what he thinks.”

  “I don’t intend to play this game.” My mother’s voice was quite loud, much louder than Meda’s, and she wouldn’t look at me.

  “It’s not a game. The only reason he thinks you don’t care is because you let him think that.” Meda was so calm and her voice was so gentle, that if I closed my eyes I could almost forget that she and my mother were having a wrestling match. “If you’d just tell him that you would’ve paid the ransom, if it had been up to you. I think that would make all the difference in the world to him, if he knew you didn’t think it was his fault, that you don’t hate him because of it.” I would never have the heart to tell Meda it didn’t make any difference, but my mother must have known that, because what she said had none of the generosity that Meda intended.

  “He’s my son. Naturally, if it had been within my power I would have paid the ransom,” my mother said coolly, all the fight gone out of her. It wasn’t a gift so much as a toll, because Meda let her go after that.

  My mother stormed across the dining room, up the stairs, and into the foyer.

  Meda sat down and gathered herself before she looked at me. When she finally met my eyes, I think she was embarrassed.

  “Do you remember telling me I was a real person? That was the best thing anyone ever said to me. I can’t find the people who kidnapped you and punch them out, and I don’t know what to say to you that will make you feel real, but you can’t go on being kidnapped your whole life, Bernie.” Meda took Aunt Ginny’s hand and said, “Did you ever tell him about why you don’t have any jewelry anymore?”

  “No, it never seemed like something to talk about. I should have told you, I suppose, a long time ago.” She told me the whole story then, about the weeks of arguing, and waiting, begging Pen to relent, and she and Uncle Alan trying to raise the money on their own. I wanted to stop her, seeing how much it hurt her, and feeling it myself for the first time.

  “I was afraid for us, that we loved you so much, and it seemed that Rob and Katherine were resigned to losing you. I don’t say that to speak against them. They were hurt, too, but they had Robby to console themselves with. And then when you came back, they took you away from us.”

  My heart hurt seeing her so frail, fighting tears. I felt paralyzed, like I couldn’t do anything for her. I was grateful when Meda put her arm around Aunt Ginny’s shoulders.

  “Oh, and my engagement ring, we couldn’t sell that,” Aunt Ginny said, trying to smile. “I still have that, because your uncle was hoodwin
ked. It’s a garnet, not even a real ruby. But then it didn’t matter after all, because they’d found you. It all sounds so silly.”

  “It’s not silly,” Meda said.

  “It’s good news for you, Meda.” I wanted us all not to cry.

  “What is?”

  “You ended up with a better mother-in-law than you started the day with.”

  Aunt Ginny took it the way I intended. She laughed and got up to hug and kiss me in that effusive little old lady way that pleased and embarrassed me.

  As we were leaving the restaurant, Aunt Ginny asked the maître d’ about my mother. He’d called a cab for her. Like mother like son, she had apparently cut her losses over her luggage. It was still in the trunk of my car.

  Certainty vs. Romance

  The day of the wedding, the weather was dismal. Meda wore my grandmother’s diamonds and a blue silk dress that made her eyes almost grey. We had a retired judge out to the house and were married in the formal parlor with what there was of our families: Aunt Ginny, the Amoses, and the Trentams. I carried a small tape recorder in my suit pocket and, in a last ditch hedge against cold feet, I took Meda, Aunt Ginny, Mrs. Trentam, and the judge into the kitchen before the ceremony. There we signed the license.

  “This is a little irregular,” the judge said.

  “It’s legal, though?” I said.

  “It may be legal, but it’s not particularly romantic,” Aunt Ginny complained.

  I preferred certainty to romance, and as a show of good faith I signed the license first. Meda held the pen over the license for a few seconds, readjusting it in her fingers a few times. My stomach turned over as she did.

  “Once I sign we’re actually married?” she said, but before I could answer her, she put the pen on the paper and signed. Aunt Ginny and Mrs. Trentam signed as witnesses, and it was a done deal except for the ceremony. Afterwards, Meda’s aunt Rachel seemed especially eager to see the signed license, and teased Meda about how shakily she had written “Raleigh” after her name. That surprised me most, that she had signed the license Meda Raleigh, that she was Meda Raleigh, even if there was a hiccup in the curve of the ‘R.’