by Storm, Sloan
“Look, I understand you’re upset.” She shook her head and gestured towards my stomach. “But, you’re young and otherwise healthy. There’s no reason why you and your husband can’t try again.”
The iciness in my veins turned to streaks of red hot panic as she spoke. I jumped to my feet and chewing my lower lip between my teeth I replied, “I’m, uh, I’m not married.”
The doctor nodded as she stepped aside. “Oh, all right. Well, your boyfriend, significant other…”
Cutting her off, I said, “I don’t have one of those either.”
Dr. Simms remained silent for a moment and then cleared her throat.
“I see.”
“I’m not giving up my baby, doctor. I won’t,” I blurted out. “I don’t care what you say. I won’t let Grey’s… my baby… just be destroyed. Never.”
The doctor acknowledged my comment in a way that suggested she’d heard pleas like mine once or twice before.
“Maddie, the baby is not the only one at risk in this scenario.” She continued in a solemn tone, “If you go through with this, the odds are very high you could damage your chances to have another child in the future. Beyond that, as I already explained, the chance of survival is only fifty-fifty and even if it does, then…”
“Yes, I know, I know!” I screamed. “Birth defects and everything. I heard you!”
Almost as soon as the words spewed from my mouth, I shook my head.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Simms,” I said, as I exhaled. “I… I shouldn’t have acted like that. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head as she looked at me in silence for a moment.
“Maddie, as your doctor, it’s my responsibility to give you the best advice I can. Now under these circumstances, I strongly urge you to consider terminating the pregnancy.”
I shook my head. My resolve came from somewhere. Maybe it was denial. I have no idea but nothing she could tell me would change my mind.
“No.” I replied. “I won’t do it. I want you to explain exactly what will happen to me and the baby if I don’t.”
Dr. Simms thinned her lips at my refusal.
“Um, well,” she began. “The likely outcome is that your condition will continue to worsen. Vomiting frequency and intensity will increase. There’s significant risk to your vital organs, especially your heart and kidneys and…”
“The baby, Doctor,” I interrupted. “What about the baby?”
She nodded. “As I said, there is a fifty percent chance, in practical terms, your baby could survive. Of course that doesn’t speak to the financial burden of care you’ll be left with, which will be substantial. A newborn with conditions such as these is, well…”
As to emphasize her point, she allowed her voice to trail away.
“Okay,” I replied. “What do I have to do? To give the baby the best chance I can to survive?”
“That’s simple, Maddie. Should you choose to go this route, you’ll be on strict bed rest at a point in the very near future. A matter of weeks, perhaps, if not sooner.”
My responsibilities, real life, everything I’d blocked from my awareness suddenly came flooding back. The movie, the business. There was no way I could get away with bed rest. Impossible!
“No, no Doctor,” I began. “I… I can’t be on bed rest. I’ve got to work. It’s not something I can miss. There’s no way.”
“I’m afraid you have no choice, Maddie.”
GREY
Life never seems to deal things out in a fair way. Sound like a load of shit coming from someone like me doesn’t it? Silver spoons and such. Well, here’s a little secret the rich don’t want you to know.
We put our pants on the same way as everyone else.
In other words, unless you’re born a king, we’ve all got the same challenges when we come kicking and screaming into this world. It’s about taking the bullshit the universe throws at you, balling it up and hurling it right back with a middle finger up in the process.
In other words, it’s hard work getting to where I am.
Funny how so few men have the stomach for it. Most would rather believe it’s all a matter of luck.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard people tell me how lucky I am. Bullshit. Fuck luck. Luck is the lazy man’s excuse for not grabbing life by the balls and twisting it to get what he wants. You make your own luck. Of course, the sort of fortitude you need to make that happen comes from years and years of effort or learning how it’s done from people who’ve been there before you.
Role models. A person to admire. You know, a hero.
I’ve only ever had one hero. My grandfather, Malcolm Sinclair.
Starting from nothing, he transformed a local failing commodities brokerage into one of the most powerful seats on the Chicago Board of Trade. Later, he parlayed that success when he shorted the British pound against the U.S. dollar, earning hundreds of millions.
A goddamn legend. A real life tycoon. Unbeatable, unbreakable.
Now though, he was dying.
The man battled cancer, heart disease and a handful of other illnesses, which should have finished him off years ago. He’d hung on, but in the end, age claims us all. And there was nothing all the goddamn money in his, or my, bank account could do about it.
Fucking bitter pill if there ever was one.
When I was growing up, everyone always told me I was a lot like him. Mostly it was meant as an insult, but I considered it the ultimate compliment. In his presence I felt complete. With his demise imminent, I wondered how, if ever, I’d replace the feeling again. The truth was that I wouldn’t. I’d accepted the fact not too long ago.
There were no end to the list of hangers-on, of course, none of whom did anything to further the family name. Without him and my grandmother, may she rest in peace, none of us would be where we are today. The rest of them were little more than a long line of freeloaders with their collective hands out. Even so, my grandfather insisted on providing for them, no matter how they behaved. They were his children and I suppose they provided some measure of comfort to him.
I never understood it.
On the other hand, it was his money and he could do what he wanted. It didn’t matter to me since I’d built my own fortune after a small stake from him. Of course, I’d paid back more than a thousand times over. Even so, their outright laziness irked me.
In any case, he’d called and asked me to come for a visit the next time I was back in town. Wouldn’t tell me why though. Unusual for him. I was looking forward to seeing him again nonetheless. Frankly, I wasn’t sure how many more chances there might be.
When he was younger he owned a number of homes from Chicago to New York, Paris, Milan and everywhere in-between. Over time, the travel and upkeep became more trouble than it was worth, so one-by-one he sold them off and opted for a comparatively simple existence. Nowadays, he lived a penthouse condo not more than a half hour or so from my home in Chicago.
So the first chance I had, I left the office early and headed over. After I arrived at his residence, his nurse led me back to his bedroom where, sadly, he spent most of his time now. I rapped against the large oak double doors as I came around the corner.
“Grandpa?”
He glanced in my direction and then motioned for me to walk towards his bed where he sat propped up amongst an ocean of pillows.
“Ah!” he yelled as he slapped his leg in anger. “I don’t know why I watch the sons of bitches play…”
“Who’s that, Grandpa?”
“Bears. Fucking Bears!” he groaned. Just then he lifted the remote and with the hand steadiness of a man you’d expect in his ninth decade, aimed it at the television and muttered curses until the screen flickered off. As it did, he tossed the remote aside.
“Come here boy!” he said, as he opened his arms.
I smiled, walked over and hugged him. Amazing that in spite of his failing health, his embrace was almost as strong as it had always been.
“How’ve you b
een son?” he asked.
“Can’t complain.” I balled up my hand and gave him a soft punch to his shoulder. Winking, I continued, “You look like shit though, old man.”
He chuckled. “Sit down and shut the hell up, Grey. You want a drink? I’ll have Millicent bring you something.”
I waved him off. “I’m good, Grandpa. Thanks.”
He nodded as I smiled and grabbed a seat on the edge of his bed. We spent a few minutes catching up, talking business, commiserating about football and the like. Afterward, we got down to the reason he’d asked me to come.
Leaning back into the pile of pillows, he said, “I’m sorry I had to be so damn mysterious with you on the phone.”
“Not a problem, Grandpa. I’m here now. Say what you need to say.”
“Grey,” he began, as he cleared his throat. “When I was a young man, I was a lot like you. Building the company, working… It was the only thing that mattered to me.”
I frowned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is,” he replied. Before I could get another word in, he continued, “Did you know your grandmother almost married someone else?”
“She did?”
“Yes, she did.” He nodded. “It was my own damn fault. The signs were there from the beginning but I ignored them. Figured I’d have plenty of time to settle down with one woman.”
“Well obviously that didn’t happen. What’d you do?”
“Got down on my damn knees and begged her!” he exclaimed. “What else? Shit, after the way I’d behaved towards her, it was all I could do.”
I chuckled. “You never told me that before.”
“Wasn’t my proudest moment, son,” he answered with an exhale. “However, turned out to be my smartest. You know, sometimes it takes real intelligence to swallow your pride.”
I nodded and smiled. It was a damn interesting bit of family history, but I still had no clue why he was telling me this.
“What about Dad?” I asked. “Wasn’t he the same way? You know, hard for a woman to pin down?”
“Your father…” My grandfather uttered as he started to chuckle. Soon the chuckle turned into a vigorous cough. Sounded damn painful. The effort exhausted him and once he’d finished, he leaned on his right elbow as he tried to catch his breath. He’d almost amused himself to death right before my eyes.
“Here, Grandpa, let me help you.” I said as I stood and reached behind him. I propped up his pillows and eased him back into them. “So you were about to say something about Pop’s womanizing ways?”
My grandfather shook his head as the last remnants of his coughing fit drained from him. I stood upright once more and slipped my hands in my pockets.
“No, Grey. Not your father. He was never the type.” He looked up at me and winked. “I suppose it skipped a generation.”
My father died when I was boy of five years. I didn’t have many memories of him. By all accounts, he was a good man who loved my mother, which I’m sure was no easy chore. But, we’ll leave discussions about her for another time. As it relates to my father, well, I suppose I never had an opportunity to miss him. My grandfather was always there, or at least as much as he could be, raising me like his own son.
“I’m dying, Grey,” he said, as his eyes flickered closed. An exhausted breath escaped from him as he continued, “It’s a matter of time, now.”
The words shocked me back into focus. They were hard to hear. Damn hard.
“I’ll get right to it. You’re the only one I can entrust the estate to, Grey. Your aunts, uncles and cousins aren’t capable and worse yet, they are slaves to their lifestyle. That’s my doing, at least to some extent, as I’ve enabled their bad behavior. Can I count on you to do this for me?”
“Of course, Grandpa.” I said with a nod. “I would consider it an honor.”
“Good, good.” He said. “My estate attorneys will handle the disbursement of the funds through the trust, which of course, you will oversee. However, there is one condition you must meet to act as trustee and it’s… not negotiable.”
I wrinkled my brow. “What’s that?”
“Grey,” he began as he shifted position once again. The motion caused him to grimace. I leaned in to help him but he waved me off. “I nearly lost everything when I was your age, and I’m not talking about money.”
Shaking my head, I replied, “I’m sorry, Grandpa. I’m, um, not following.”
“Since your father is no longer alive, you’re the last of the Sinclair line, Grey. I was in the same position when I was your age. The last Sinclair. You must not allow that to come to pass.”
I nodded. “I understand. There’s plenty of time to remedy the situation.”
“And that’s your problem, Grey. When I was your age, I thought I’d live forever also, but as you can see, that’s not the case.”
“Okay,” I began. “So what is it you want from me?”
“Grey, I’m asking a lot of you here to act as trustee. I realize I am. I know you don’t need any money I’d leave to you, but others in the family aren’t in the same position. They would crumble without my charity.”
“I agree, Grandpa. So what does this have to do with the condition you talked about?”
He cleared his throat. Then, without another moment of hesitation, he said something which caused my mouth to fall open in disbelief.
“If you do not marry within one year of my death, the entire fortune will go to charity. Your relatives, including your mother, will be left with nothing.”
Huh?
Like I mentioned, most of the people living off my grandfather’s wealth were goddamn charity cases as far as I was concerned. If not for the love and respect I had for this man, I wouldn’t give two shits about what happened to any of them. I made my own way; they should have to make their own. The only possible exception would be my mother. Pain in the ass though she was, I’d still never let anything bad happen to her.
“Grandpa, I guess I don’t understand the reason for the ultimatum. Where’s this coming from?”
“Because without it Grey, I know you’ll wind up alone. No wife, no children, a gilded lonely bachelor. A man who lives his life solely to please his desires is a man who has wasted his life. More than any money I could ever give to you, it is this free advice that would be worth more than all the billions you could ever hope to make. How much more do you need, my boy?”
I shrugged. “None. I get it. But Grandpa, I um… this is… not an easy thing you’re asking me to do. You of all people should know what I’m dealing with on a regular basis. I work non-stop, travel constantly. It’s not realistic to expect anyone would want to be in a situation like that if they’re considering being married, having kids and so on and…”
He leaned forward and pointed his index finger at me. “Oh horseshit, Grey. Don’t try that with me. Listen, I’m trying to teach you an important lesson here. It’s one that I learned far too late in life but there’s still time for you.”
“I appreciate what you’re saying Grandpa, but have you ever thought about the fact I might be happy with the way things are in my life?”
Still sitting up, he nodded, “Are you? Be honest with me son.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I mean, there’s always some bullshit of one kind or another with work but that’s the way it is.”
“I wasn’t asking you about work, Grey,” he began. “Are you happy? Take all of it away. The money, the power, every bit of it. What’s left for you? That’s the question you have to answer ‘yes’ to, if you want to find lasting happiness in this life.”
Taking a seat down at the foot of the bed again, I exhaled. “And you’re suggesting I’m going to find such a thing in what… a wife?”
“No not in her or any children you have. Not in them but in the experience of it. That’s the key to real living, son. If you don’t have a family to share all of those things with, the good and bad, then you don’t have anything. You will die broke even though you�
��ve got billions.”
Look, I’d have to be a complete asshole to not get where he was coming from, but this wasn’t something we’d ever discussed. Not a single time. I loved the old man, but I felt indignant at the same time. I decided to push him a bit.
“What if I refuse, Grandpa?”
“Simple,” he said with a curt nod of his head. “All the money goes to charity as soon as I die. No grace period.”
To be truthful, a part of me was completely comfortable with that outcome. Still, he had me confused.
I waved my hand in a dismissive manner. “Just like that? You’d cut them all off?”
“I’m not the one cutting them off, Grey. You are. You would have to live with that on your conscience.” He leaned back against the pillows once again and continued, “But I have no concern about that outcome. None.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I know you’re a moral man Grey, and when the time comes, you’ll do what’s required.”
None of this sat well with me. What the hell was I supposed to say to him? No? This was as close to a dying wish as you could get. Even so, the whole idea seemed ludicrous. Me? Married inside of a goddamn year? There was about a one hundred percent chance of that not occurring.
Even so, I really had no choice when it came to doing as he asked. And yeah, I could take care of my mother with no problem, but she’d never let the family go destitute. In the end, I’d wind up having to pay for every last one of them and I couldn’t stand the thought of it.
I looked down at my Grandpa’s frail body. A hollowness entered my stomach. How could I turn my back on my hero?
It was simple. I couldn’t, and no amount of rational thought could compel me otherwise.
Fuck.
I pursed my lips as I looked down at him, defeated. “You’re a crazy old man. You know that?”
He chuckled. “That’s what they tell me.”
“So… one year?” I asked. “No chance I could negotiate a longer term?”
“No, Grey,” he began. “This isn’t something you should put off. Besides, one year is plenty of time, if you focus. That is, of course, unless you are already involved? If you are, I would assume that if there was a woman of that status in your life, I’d know about it. Wouldn’t I?”
