“About the three million dollars, I’ve made a decision. I’m going to divide it between my mom and me.”
Jack said it as casually as if he were deciding between takeout and delivery.
We were in our New York apartment, the one my father had given me as a wedding gift. The late afternoon light from the East River slanted across the hardwood floor, hitting the stack of papers from the Midtown law office spread out on our dining table.
The envelope with my father’s law firm logo still lay torn open beside an empty coffee mug.
Jack had helped himself to the documents without even asking.
He leaned back in one of the chairs, the leather creaking under him as he waved a sheet of paper in the air.
“Kelly, don’t be too greedy,” he added lightly. “Oh, finally I can quit my job. I have to thank that doddering old man.”
For a second I thought I’d misheard him.
The words “doddering old man” floated through the air and landed with a thud in my chest.
“Doddering old man… are you talking about my dad?” I blurted out. My voice came out thinner than I wanted.
He didn’t even glance at me. My mother-in-law, sitting across the table with her phone face-down beside a half-finished latte, practically clapped her hands.
“Three million dollars,” she said, eyes shining like casino lights.
“Isn’t that amazing? Now we can live comfortably for the rest of our lives. We should look at cars, Jack.
A real car this time, something German. And I saw a new outlet mall off the interstate last week. Let’s go shopping.”
They were talking as if the money had already hit their account, as if my father had lived and died only to finance their fantasy life.
Faced with this unexpected turn of events, I felt something inside me twist.
For years I’d been buried in housework, constantly asked for money, treated like a maid. Now they were insulting my father, whose ashes were barely settled.
I didn’t want to live with Jack and my mother-in-law anymore.
The urge to scream rose up hard and hot, pressing against my ribs. Instead, I swallowed it back down.
I pressed my nails into my palms until it hurt and forced my lips into something that looked like a smile.
“Sure,” I said quietly. “Feel free to use the money as you and your mother please.”
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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