When the Fairytale Ends

by Dwan Abrams

  He checked his watch and noted the time as 9:25 A.M., but the meeting was supposed to start at nine. He figured the attorney must’ve been a black man, because if he was white, he would’ve been there about forty minutes ago.

  While he waited, he dialed Franklin’s number on his new iPhone. Franklin answered on the first ring. “So what’d she leave you, man? Old folks got dough. That’s why they be driving them fancy behind cars all the time, styling and profiling. I bet you Mother Washington was sitting on a bank. How much she leave you, man? Half million? Half a billion? Am I close? How much she leave you?”

  “Franklin, shut up.”

  “Won’t you shut me up, G? You bad.”

  Greg rolled his eyes at his friend and waited for him to finish running his mouth. Then he said, “This meeting was supposed to start twenty-five minutes ago. Why am I still the only one here? Where’s Kaiya?”

  “Twenty-five minutes ago?” Franklin sounded confused. “Man, you must have your times mixed up. Kaiya told me it starts at nine thirty.”

  Greg glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s about two minutes ’til and I’m still the only one—”

  He heard a man’s voice outside the door and looked at the open entranceway. A black man dressed in a pin-striped suit entered and introduced himself as Attorney Jeffries. Greg stood and gave him a firm handshake. He felt bad for thinking stereotypically about black people and time.

  The attorney placed his briefcase on top of the conference room table and removed some documents.

  “This shouldn’t take very long at all,” the attorney explained as he shuffled through the papers and took a seat at the head of the table. “Are the daughters present as well?”

  Greg shrugged his shoulders. “I’m guessing they’re on the way.”

  The attorney glanced at his watch, then nodded. “We’ll wait on them. I’ll give them a few more minutes.”

  Nodding, Greg stepped out the room and put the phone to his ear. “You still there, Frank?”

  “I’m still here. What’s up?”

  Greg looked down at his shoes and traced an invisible pattern on the carpet. “Man, I messed up real bad.”

  “What’d you do?”

  He sighed into the phone. “Man, I got approved for the start-up business loan.”

  “That don’t sound bad to me.”

  “I lied to Shania about it. And she caught me in my lie.”

  “Greg. G. My man. My dude. Come on, dog!” Franklin smacked his lips in the phone. “It’s too early for you to be lying in your marriage, man! You don’t start lying until you reach the one-year mark. What’s wrong with you, my dude?”

  “What kind of advice is that?” Greg listened to his friend, shaking his head. “Where’d you get this one-year mark from? See, that’s why I’m married and you’re not.”

  “Hey, the route you headed, me and you both gonna be in the same boat pretty soon. You know Shania don’t play that mess.”

  “I know, I know.” Greg groaned into the phone. “What should I do to make it up to her?”

  “Maybe tell her the truth.”

  “The truth? Shania can’t handle the truth.”

  “No, G,” Franklin said on a very serious note, “you can’t handle the truth. You wanna know what the truth is?”

  Greg smacked his lips but perked up his ears. “What’s the truth, Mr. Know-It-All?”

  “The truth is,” Franklin continued, “that you’re intimidated by your woman’s money.”

  “Intimidated?”

  “You want me to spell it for you? I-N-T-I-M—”

  “Okay, okay, I get it.” Greg cut him off, then lowered his voice when he realized the young paralegal was all up in his conversation. He turned his back to her for more privacy, then said, “Why you say that, Frank?”

  “Think about it, G. From day one, you’ve felt like you have to go over and beyond your call of duty to prove to her that you don’t need her money.”

  “Because I don’t need it.”

  “Fool, you do need it!” Franklin smacked his lips and clicked his tongue in the phone and Greg could imagine his friend shaking his head. “Listen to you. You up here willing to go sign up for a loan from the bank, knowing you’d have to pay interest on that loan. It would take you forever and a day to pay that money back, when you could get that loan from your own wife, who you already know is more than willing to invest in you, because she loves you. The only thing she would charge you is your heart.”

  Franklin’s words shut Greg up. Greg couldn’t think of a single thing to say in his defense. What Franklin was saying made logical sense, and it was sad that he couldn’t have put things into perspective on his own.

  He recognized Kristen’s voice before he saw her face, and seconds later, Kristen and Kaiya came into view. They both wore dark pantsuits and sunglasses. While Kaiya’s pantsuit was very professional and demure, Kristen’s pants were too tight, and she wore no shirt under her blazer, so the upper portion of her two mounds were visible to anyone who wanted to look at them.

  “Well,” Greg said into the phone, “the sisters are here.”

  Franklin sighed on his end. “I bet Kaiya looks lovely, huh? Looks like she walked right out of a magazine, huh? Tell me what she got on, G. Tell me what she looks like. Put her on the phone. Let me hear her voice.”

  Greg rolled his eyes and said, “This girl has you sprung, Frank. Not a good look, my man.”

  “Aww, whatever.” Franklin chuckled into the phone.

  Greg ended the call, turned his phone off, and returned to the conference room. He had never been to the reading of a will, so he didn’t know what to expect. He offered Kaiya the seat he had occupied earlier, and she politely thanked him for it. Kristen sat in the chair beside her sister, and her eyes flashed an invitation to Greg as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts, making her mounds rise even higher within the folds of her blazer. Greg rolled his eyes and looked away. He was not in the mood for her shenanigans.

  After the ladies took their seats, Attorney Jeffries cleared his throat and said, “Now that everyone is here, we can get started.”

  He loosened his tie and put on a pair of reading glasses. He went through the formalities before announcing that Mother Washington had left her house and personal effects to be equally divided between her daughters. This nearly blew Greg away. He would’ve much preferred to hear that Mother Washington had left Kaiya everything and hadn’t even left Kristen the corn off her pinkie toe.

  When Attorney Jefferies stipulated that the house could not be sold, Kaiya cleared her throat and Kristen crossed her legs.

  “And, ladies,” he continued, scanning his eyes down the document in his hands. “That seems like the only thing she left you.” He turned his head to address Greg. “But you, sir,” he said, lifting his bushy eyebrows, “she left you all the money in her bank account.” He looked down at his sheet of paper. “That total came to $54,972.85.”

  “What?” Kristen screamed. “That’s a bald-faced lie.”

  Leaning forward, Greg rested his elbows on his knees. He furrowed a brow, wondering if he had heard the guy correctly. “Come—come again?”

  “And that’s not all,” Attorney Jeffries continued, still looking at Greg. “She made you the sole beneficiary on her $100,000 life insurance policy.”

  “What?” Kristen screamed again. She jumped out of her seat and her breasts jiggled in her blazer like two basketballs. “What do you mean she left him”—she pointed at Greg—“all the money? We’re her daughters!” Her high-pitched voice went up an octave. “He ain’t nothing to her, just her little handyman. You need to clean your glasses off and take another look at that paper ’cause something has got to be wrong!”

  Kaiya seemed to shrink within herself as she leaned away from her sister’s rage.

  Attorney Jeffries’s cheeks reddened, and he said indignantly, “Ma’am, I can assure you that I can see just fine. And I’m an attorney. I think I know how to read. I’m telli
ng you what the paper says, nothing more, nothing less.”

  Kristen’s hands gripped the arms of the chair as she retook her seat. “Then there must be some mistake,” she said calmly. “Why would our mother do that?” She eyed the attorney, demanding an explanation.

  Attorney Jeffries folded his hands on top of his desk and looked at Kaiya. “With Kristen’s irresponsibility with money, your mother was afraid that the money would be too much of a temptation for her.”

  “What do you mean by irresponsibility?” Kristen spat at him. “I’m not irresponsible. I’ve never done an irresponsible thing in my life.”

  “Then why’d you get evicted from your apartment?” Greg spoke up, shutting her down completely. “And why’d you have to file Chapter 11?”

  She gasped and splayed a hand across her exposed breasts. “How do you . . . how do you know that?”

  Greg grinned at her. “Research, baby.” The look on her face was worth a million bucks.

  The attorney took off his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Can we just get through this, please?”

  Greg apologized to the attorney, then pretended to zip his lips. He was a bit surprised when Kaiya cleared her throat and spoke up.

  “That might be why she didn’t leave the money to Kristen, but what about me?” Kaiya wanted to know. “What did she say about me?”

  “Mother Washington wanted to be as fair as possible. Your mother didn’t want to leave you the money and have you feeling so guilty about it that you end up sharing it with your sister. Because she loved you both equally, she didn’t want to put either of you in that situation and add an unnecessary strain to your relationship.” He held up a certified cashier’s check. “This is for you,” he said to Greg. “It’s the bank account balance. An insurance representative will be in touch with you soon.”

  Greg hesitated before accepting the check. He could care less about Kristen because once again, he felt like she was getting her just desserts. But he felt bad for Kaiya. She shouldn’t have to suffer because of her sister. He looked into Kaiya’s tear-streaked face and offered her a heartfelt apology.

  “You can keep that tired apology for yourself,” Kristen replied for her sister. She jumped up from her seat, swinging her hair with her eyes flashing. “Get up, Kaiya. Come on, let’s go. We should’ve expected this from Mama from the jump. We always do get the short end of the stick, huh?”

  The thought crossed Greg’s mind that if the sisters had paid for the funeral out of their pockets, then he should offer to reimburse them, so he mentioned it to Attorney Jefferies.

  Before either of the women could answer, the attorney said, “Well, actually, Mother Washington was a planner. She had picked out and paid for her casket, headstone, and burial plot years ago. She wanted to be buried next to her husband.”

  “Oh,” was all Greg could say as he folded the check in half and placed it in his wallet, feeling less and less guilty.

  The attorney said in a professional tone, “If there’s nothing else, we’re done here.”

  With a disappointed look on her face, Kristen grabbed her things and held up her middle finger at Attorney Jefferies, then pointed a long, sharp fingernail at Greg. “You may think you won. Best believe, it ain’t over. What Kristen wants”—she let her eyes drop from the check in his hand to the crotch of his pants—“Kristen gets. Check my track record.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I already have. I saw your little aggravated assault charge. Is that supposed to intimidate me?”

  At the sound of his words, she touched her chest and her eyes widened.

  Greg added, “Your threats don’t scare me, Kristen. God says, ‘Touch not my anointed.’ You tried to overdose your own mother and see what happened to you at the funeral? Touch me if you want to.”

  Kristen pointed a finger at him again. It seemed like she was searching for some smart-aleck reply but came up empty. Finally, she pulled her lips back in a snarl and said, “Go to hell.”

  “Trust me, you’d beat me there.” Greg chuckled in the face of her fury.

  Greg gathered his things and shook the attorney’s hand. “Thank you, Attorney Jefferies, for everything.”

  “Here’s the number for the insurance company,” the attorney said as he handed Greg a piece of paper. “If you don’t hear from them over the next few days, be sure to give them a call.”

  Greg briefly studied the information and explained to the attorney that he and his wife were leaving for Ocho Rios in two days and that he’d deal with the insurance matter when he got back the following week. He thanked him again, then left.

  He noticed Kristen yank Kaiya by the arm and all but drag her out of the place.

  Once outside, he stared up at the sky and smiled, wondering if Mother Washington was looking down on him from heaven.

  Greg felt like new money after leaving the attorney’s office. His heart ached that Mother Washington had died, but having a dump load of money sure had a way of helping out with the healing process. He couldn’t believe his luck. He immediately thanked God for his blessing and hightailed his motorcycle straight to the nearest Bank of America.

  After making a sizable deposit into his bank account, Greg took a detour to his church and met with his pastor. They talked and Greg gave his pastor a check for 10 percent of the money he had just gotten. He believed in tithing and knew that his church could use the money to help the missionaries that had recently gone to Cameroon, Africa. Pastor Ray thanked him for his generous gift, and Greg felt good about what he had done.

  Greg still knew that there was one situation that he needed to right. He made one more quick stop and purchased a dozen red roses for Shania.

  By the time he reached the house, some of the joy he’d felt since the attorney made his unexpected announcement had ebbed away. A cold ball of regret and dread had replaced it.

  “Shania,” he called out as soon as he walked through the door, holding the dozen roses in front of his face, as though they were shield.

  He waited a moment for her reply so that he could determine where she was.

  “What’s the matter?” she yelled from the kitchen.

  Placing the bouquet behind his back, he hurried into the kitchen and greeted her with a smile. She didn’t smile back. She just kept looking down at her chopping board and hacking a carrot into thin slices. For a second, his mind replaced the carrot with his favorite piece of his anatomy, and he visibly cringed.

  “What’s the matter with you?” She scrunched up her face. Greg forced himself to stop imagining his private part on the chopping board, and whipped the roses from behind his back. She stared at the roses as though he had whipped out the manual to put together a fish tank. Her expression remained the same when she said, “So how’d it go? What’d she leave you? Her Bible?”

  Greg forced himself to grin at her dry joke. “Well, she left me a lot more than that.” He placed the flowers in a vase, covered the stems three-quarters with water, and carefully slid the vase across the island top while he closed the distance between them.

  She picked up a nearby mug of ginger tea and sipped on it while giving him a blank stare.

  Greg went on to explain about the money and why Mother Washington had entrusted the money to him instead of her daughters. He also told her about the offering he made to his church.

  “So what am I supposed to do? Applaud you?” Shania stood there glaring at him. She picked up her knife, slid the carrot out the way with the blunt edge of the knife, then began chopping celery, using much more force than was required.

  The longer Greg stared at the glistening blade, the more nervous he became. Maybe he should wait until she finished cooking and talk to her in a less dangerous part of the house. He didn’t watch a lot of crime reality TV, but he’d watched enough to know that a high percentage of homicides, especially domestic homicide, happened in the bathroom or the kitchen.

  He took a deep breath to still his trembling nerves and said, “Babe, I lied to you
yesterday.”

  “Really?” She made a sarcastic expression of surprise and slapped one hand against her cheek. “I would’ve never known!”

  “Can you kill the sarcasm?”

  “No, Greg, but I’m feeling like killing you!” she exclaimed, wielding the knife in his direction. Based on her volatile temperament lately, he did not put it past her. He held his hands up in surrender and jumped out of her way, but she tossed the knife on the island and it clanged to a stop. “You can’t even lie straight, Greg. I looked in your eyes and knew instantly that you were lying.”

  She put one hand on her hip and glared at him. “How do you expect this marriage to work if you breach our trust? Without trust, a relationship is nothing. Don’t you know that?”

  “Yes, I do.” He nodded and carefully reached across the island for the knife. Once the knife clattered into the sink basin, he felt a lot more at ease. “Baby, listen,” he said and went to put his arms around her, but she moved out of the way.

  “You can talk to me without touching me.”

  Her words felt like stakes being driven through his heart; however, he manned up, knowing that he deserved all of this and more. He should’ve never lied about the situation to start with.

  Instead of touching her, he stood as close to her as she would allow and stared at her until she finally focused on his eyes. “I’m sorry, okay? No excuse. I screwed up.”

  “Yes, you did,” she said, nodding her agreement.

  “Franklin’s right.” He leaned on his elbows as he continued to stare at her. “Your money intimidated me, babe. It made me feel like I had to work extra hard to prove to you that I can hold down my own.”

  She rolled her eyes, then crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “So what’d you lie to me about?”