*
Sunday morning I picked up B.D. for the trip back to Austin. We chatted some, but mostly made the trip wrapped in our own private thoughts. I did think to ask her about her trip to Florida.
“How was your trip?”
“Great!” she gushed. “It was great seeing Dad in person. So much better than a letter or a phone call. We should have tried to get out there sooner, but money has been so tight. We chatted and played chess and just hung out. Since we were coming from so far, the warden gave us permission to stay during the entire visiting time instead of limiting the visit to two hours. And Dad looked pretty good. Actually I guess he looked really good in a thin, wiry kind of way. He’s lost a bunch of weight, because they don’t feed him, and he doesn’t want to spend money in the commissary, but we’ve all started sending him a little money so he can eat more. He’s also said he’s been spending more time doing yoga and push-ups etc. Regardless, he’s more buff than I’ve ever seen him. He also looked surprisingly relaxed. He didn’t look as worried and driven as before. I guess he decided to be happy with what he’s got instead of trying to reach for more. He’s also really pleased with my work at UT. He was disappointed that I couldn’t go to MIT because we couldn’t afford it, but now that he sees the work that I’m doing with Dr. Hrezecovic, he seems genuinely pleased. I think he’s learning to just go with the flow.“
I patted her knee. “That’s great B.D. You were so excited; I was worried that the trip would be a big disappointment.”
“Not a disappointment at all, although it was pretty sobering to realize how tough prison can be on a person. We got Dad a coke—it was the first soda he had had since going to prison. Apparently all you get to drink in prison is water, coffee, and tea. Dad said that he didn’t even realize he liked soda that much until he couldn’t have it. He said he’s been having dreams about soda. I hope this last year goes by quickly. Maybe we can go see him this summer?”
“Sure, B.D. Whatever makes you happy.” B.D. grinned contentedly, and I realized as I said it I meant it. I wanted to make B.D. happy. It wasn’t just that I didn’t want to write my eulogy apologizing for being a crummy person especially to my family. I genuinely wanted to make B.D. happy. It would make her happy and make me happy. I wasn’t going to be like my dad, denying myself the things that make me happy because I didn’t deserve them. Instead, I was going to become the person that deserved to be by B.D.’s side. I was going to get my Ph.D. in physics and help B.D. with her research. Although I knew her career would eclipse mine—easily—I didn’t care. I just wanted B.D. to fulfill her potential—to make contributions to the world that improved life for everyone. I was happy to help B.D. do that. In fact, I realized, it was my new goal in life.
When we found a parking spot on campus, I put my hand on B.D.’s shoulder and had her turn to me.
“B.D.” I said while staring into her eyes, “I love you.”
B.D. caught her breath while tears welled in her eyes, “I love you too, David.”
I kissed her then pulled back and exclaimed, “Let’s try to stay together.”
“Of course,” B.D. agreed but looked a little confused.
“I just want to be with you,” I affirmed.
“And I want to be with you,” she answered giving me the dog-looking-at-a-card-trick look.
“It’s good we want the same thing,” I answered. I realized then that B.D. didn’t know that I’d completely changed my mind, that I had planned to break up with her. Although who was I kidding, I could never break up with her. I was in too deep. Good thing I figured that out; I just had to be strong. I hopped out of the car and grabbed my bag and B.D.’s suitcase and ambled toward the dorm.
*
B.D. and I fell into our fall routine almost as if the Christmas break had never happened. We swam every morning and had breakfast together. During the day we attended our various classes and met our various obligations. In the evenings we had dinner together in the cafeteria then went to the library where we read, researched, and wrote. Then we returned to my room where we had glorious sex—that still hadn’t gotten stale—and fell asleep. B.D. would occasionally nip down to her room for clothes or books or something, but generally we hung out in my room. B.D. started referring to her room as the storage closet because Wendy had a new, off-campus boyfriend that she was spending time with, so their room mostly just stored their belongings. On Saturdays we’d go to a museum or Zilker Park. We went to several Saturday game nights where I ruled D&D and B.D. was the undisputed Risk Queen.
At the first of the semester I was a bit worried about Mom and called everyday, but she seemed to have worked through her grief and was back at work Monday working on the fall buy and assessing the spring.
The best part about being back in Austin was sleeping with B.D. again. After the first night spent with my arms wrapped around her in my single bed, I felt like a new man. Even though I had done an excellent job dealing with B.D’s absence by making myself tired with work and exercise, I still slept better with her even on my crummy dorm bed. Now that I had decided that I was going to be a better person to be an appropriate partner for B.D., I was more relaxed. My light academic load contributed to that.
The future was my only source of worry. I waited to hear from the various graduate schools I was applying to. B.D. was pulling for M.I.T. because that’s where her father went and where she wanted to go. Honestly I was hoping for Stanford, mostly because San Francisco was fabulous. I was pretty sure Boston couldn’t compare. We had decided that B.D. would finish her degree at UT and then join me where ever I was. We would spend the summer between together. B.D. was hot to graduate early, but I didn’t want her to cut short her time with Dr. Hrezecovic. She was already complaining that the tutoring center was cutting short her lab time.
Twenty Four
B.D.
Other than the situation with Dad, life was sailing along. David and I spent breakfast and dinner together and all night long. Last night right as I was about to come, he told me, essentially, the dirtiest joke I’ve ever heard. As I felt my orgasm start to build and goose flesh peppered my thighs, he pounded into me, but stopped to ask, “Can B.D. come out to play, Mrs. Chase?” while his finger was swirling my clit. My brain over loaded and froze. I didn’t know if I should come or laugh or be shocked. It was a unique experience.
Obviously he didn’t break-up with me like everyone said he would. In fact, we’re planning the future together. David would go to graduate school; I would graduate a year early and join him. I just have to make sure I stay on my game so that I get in wherever he does.
The only other thing to think about this semester is my trip to Spain with Dr. Hrezecovic—Amanda—I’m supposed to call her Amanda. It’s quite the honor to go. Usually professors only take graduate students on this type of thing, but she got the department to cough up the cash for the plane ticket and the conference fees. They’re paying for Dr. Hrezecovic’s—Amanda’s-- room, and I’ll be staying with her. I only have to pay for food and incidentals while we’re there. Mom told me to take $500 from the jewelry money, and I can use my $300 emergency money, so I should be fine. I’m spending all the spare time I can scrape up running more trials in the lab and polishing up the paper. I guess time management is always an issue in college, but things have gotten particularly tight. I got up at 5am yesterday to finish up some homework. I might have to spend a few nights in my room so I won’t waste time on sex.
David
I was driving home from dropping B.D. off at the airport—the Friday before Spring Break. And since it’s Spring Break, she and Amanda are going to be gone more than a week. If you’re going overseas, it makes sense to make the most of it. They’re only spending about half their time at the conference. The rest of the time they’ll be sight seeing. B.D.’s going to have a great time.
I plan to spend the break working, so hopefully I can get some sleep. Hurricane hooked me up with another project to keep me busy over Spring Break, and I need
to save my cash. I heard from the last college I applied to—Stanford—they let me in, but didn’t give me any funding other than what the government coughed up. They did say that most people who stay in the program get funding in their second year. Great! It’s a bit of a gamble, because what happens if I cough up the cash, but don’t get funding my second year? I end up with a fat loan to pay back, but no degree? Taking a loan bothers me a little. I managed to get through my undergraduate degree without a loan, but now I’ll have to get one to go to graduate school. I could probably get a full ride to a lesser school, but first off I didn’t apply to one and secondly B.D. deserves to be at one of the best schools. I can’t have her following me to Podunk U. I could stay at UT, but B.D. really deserves better. Being strong definitely has its challenges like not telling B.D. about my acceptance failure. I didn’t want her worrying about it during her trip. I tried to give B.D. money, but she wouldn’t let me, so I stuck $100 in small bills into the outside pocket of her backpack. I’m not sure why she wouldn’t take the cash. She doesn’t know I need to start saving. Besides what’s $100 in the face of $40,000 of tuition.
Some English professor named Mark dropped off Dr. Hrezecovic—Amanda. They spent more time sucking face in the airport than B.D. and I did. It was weird.
As I pulled into a parking space, my phone rang. “Mom” popped up.
“What’s up, Mom?” I answered.
“David, so glad you answered. Could you come to a meeting on Monday, in Houston, at Mr. Raintree’s office?” she asked a bit tentatively.
“Sure thing,” I replied. “It’s Spring Break.”
“Oh, great, I had forgotten. Will B.D. come too?”
“Nah she’s on her way to Spain—Salamanca. She’s giving a paper with her professor. She’ll be gone the entire Spring Break. I had planned just to hang around Austin and work. Maybe catch a few SXSW shows, but I’d love to come see you.”
“That’s good. Just don’t get your hopes up. Mr. Raintree specifically said not to get your hopes up.”
“Okay, I’ll come down tomorrow. See you then.”
“See you then. Love you.”
“Love you too,” I answered but she had clearly already rung off. And why should I not get my hopes up? I didn’t want anything from the jerk to begin with.
*
I pulled into the driveway late Saturday afternoon. I grabbed my bag and headed into the house expecting to see Mom curled up in her chair, but instead she was back in her room.
“Mom, I’m home!” I shouted out not exactly sure where she is, but I knew she was home. Her car was in the garage.
I unpacked my laptop and stuffed a few days worth of clothes into my drawers just as Mom strolled into my room decked out to the nines. She was wearing a short, green cocktail dress with purple pumps. She got her hair styled in a fancy up-do. Her legs looked a mile long and her eyes sparkled.
“Wow!” I held up my hand to shield my eyes. “Your fabulousness is blinding me.”
Mom giggled and blushed, “I’ve got…a date.”
“Really?”
“Yes, a guy, another buyer, he’s been asking me out for years, so I finally said yes.”
“Good for you,” I encouraged. “I hope you have a good time.”
“Me too.” She glanced down at her watch. “He should be here any minute.”
“Good.”
“I’m not sure if there’s anything for you to eat though.”
“I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself. You have fun.”
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Mom took in a nervous breath. I reiterated. “Go have fun!”
Mom ran out of my room clearly excited. I heard her open the door and the low rumble of a man’s voice and door shutting. Then I heard a car start-up. I sat down on my bed and thought. I realized that my mother never went on a date when I was young even though my grandmother encouraged her “to go have fun.” As a kid, I never thought about it. My mother had been saving herself for a guy that didn’t want her.
I sat down at my desk and started planning out my attack on the Hurricane project.
*
Monday morning my mother and I arrived at Mr. Raintree’s offices. Apparently I was supposed to attend the “reading of the will” because I was named in the will. Since Mr. Raintree had warned my mother to not get too excited, I didn’t have many expectations. The sonofabitch hadn’t given me much when he was alive, so I didn’t expect much from his estate. He probably left me something lame like an autographed baseball. I hope he gave Mom enough so that she would be able to retire at a reasonable age. She’d only just managed to start saving in the last few years, because she had been too busy supporting me. I should try to do something that made money so I could support her in her old age.
As was appropriate for the occasion, Mom wore a tasteful black dress, and I wore my Ungaro funeral suit. Two and Three showed up clearly dressed as their versions of grieving widows, but had left the offspring behind. Because they’re still minors, their presence wasn’t required. Their mothers could sign for them. Two serious women in business suits who I didn’t recognized were there as well as Mrs. Hunter and the Rodriguezes, the couple who kept my father’s estate running.
Mr. Raintree walked in with an assistant, several associates, and stacks of folders and unceremoniously announced. “Before I can read the will, each of you need to sign these agreements. By signing these agreements, you promise to not sue the estate for changes to your bequests. Furthermore, if you take any legal action against the estate in the future, you forfeit your bequest automatically. Representatives of the estate will take immediate legal action against you to retrieve any funds or assets you received from the estate. I cannot read the will until each of you have signed. The two serious women took their agreements and immediately began reading them. Mrs. Hunter and the Rodriguezes just signed. Mom and I signed after reading the document over. It was fairly straight forward. Two and Three hemmed and hawed and said that they would prefer to have their attorneys read the documents, but Mr. Raintree insisted that such action would result in the forfeiture of their inheritance. After a good half hour of reading and explaining and whining, everyone signed. After each document had been signed and notarized, Mr. Raintree began reading the will.
“In an effort to make the world a better place, I am donating a significant portion of my estate to Feeding America and Planned Parenthood. Each organization will receive $50 million today. “ Mr. Raintree paused and the serious women gasped. Apparently that was a good bit of change even for them.
Furthermore, to recognize their loyalty and service, I bequeath $1 million each to my personal assistant, Mrs. Pamela Hunter, my housekeeper, Mrs. Angel Rodriguez, and my grounds keeper, Mr. Jose Rodriguez. Furthermore, Mr. And Mrs. Rodriguez may distribute my personal effects as they see fit and donate my Houston property either after liquidation or as a whole to a charity of their choice. I have attached a codicil that lists smaller sums for other associates. Mr. Peter Raintree will receive $1.5 million as executor of my will.
He continued, “Since my second wife, Victoria Lanham Slade and my third wife, Tiffany Brown Slade, have received significant payments as a result of our divorce agreements, they will each receive $1 million dollars a piece.” Once again, Mr. Raintree paused. Victoria mumbled something that sounded like “figures,” and Tiffany started to tear up. All I could think was “Really!” A million bucks would set me up for life, and I was sure they had already received several times that.
Again Mr. Raintree continued, “Our children, Hunter Malcolm Slade and Trace Richard Slade Jr., will continue to receive child support in the amounts specified in our divorce agreements.” Tiffany brightened up at that. “Additionally each will receive $400,000 in trust. $200,000 will be distributed to fund their undergraduate education. Upon the receipt of a degree, they will each receive the remainder of the trust plus any money that has accrued through the investment of the trustee.”
Victoria interrupted s
ounding less than pleased, “So I don’t get any of the money for my kid?”
“You will continue to receive child support as per the terms of your divorce agreement. Mr. Slade legally did not need to make such a concession, but he did,” Mr. Raintree explained. “Additionally our trust division will give your child up to $200,000 to fund his education, including living expenses. When your child completes his degree he will receive the remainder of his trust which will certainly exceed $200,000 and perhaps substantially so. If you feel that the trust is not being managed appropriately, you are free to bring a suit against the trust company, although your case will be stronger if you wait a few years so that you have some evidence that it has not been handled well.”
Victoria snorted.
Mr. Raintree continued, “Since Mr. David Slade has already filed for graduation, he will receive $400,000 at this time. Furthermore, for sentimental reasons and to compensate him for the small amount of money his mother received for his maintenance while he was growing up as well as the loss of investment income while in school and to reward him for funding his own education, I leave my first oil well, Copper Top, to my son, Mr. David Slade.” Gasps sounded through out the room.
Mr. Raintree paused and took a deep breath, “Finally for her loyalty and love despite my poor behavior, I bequeath $20 million to my first wife, Candace Merriweather Slade.”
Two and Three fairly shrieked. My mother’s mouth fell open then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she slumped over onto my shoulder.”
I immediately started shaking her and slapping her face. I said her name several times. Some guy in a sharp looking suit turned up with smelling salts and a glass of water. He popped the capsule and Mom’s eyes opened immediately. It took a few minutes for her to orient herself and take a drink of water, but then she nodded to Mr. Raintree.
“The remainder of my funds, assets, and holdings will go to my company, Slade LLC.”
Mr. Raintree paused, “I have checks for the liquid assets to distribute now. Please come up to the desk and sign for them.”
Waves and Light: Opposites Attract Series Page 29
