My father (whom I hadn't seen in quite a long while) and I were walking together through the hallway of a building. We passed by a large reception hall where some kind of benefit was going on for a man who had been a lawyer for 15 years – did I know him? As we continued walking, my father began reproaching me for not having called him in such a long time; he seemed genuinely hurt. I shot back that he could have called me; however, I wanted him to know that I had been unhappy with our long silence and I said, I felt "bad." I mused as to whether I should have said "badly" instead of "bad.
We continued on to the elevator, and just as we boarded, a man walked out of the reception hall and boarded the elevator with us. He looked like someone I might have once gone to school with in Portsmouth. I had wanted to continue talking with my father, to mention that I thought about him every day; but I couldn't pursue the conversation after the fellow had boarded the elevator with us.
When we reached our floor and stepped off the elevator, my father and I walked down a hallway. We seemed to be in a cheap but clean hotel. We were getting along better now. Since he hadn't talked with me in a while, he wanted to know how I had been supporting myself. I didn't want to go into details with him; but I told him I had been surviving with no problem.
I thought we were beginning to communicate a little; maybe we could talk about some causes of our problems. Perhaps now was the time to tell him I didn't care for my step-mother and of my suspicions as to why she was with him. But just then we reached the door of a room; after he opened the door and walked in, I followed.
As soon as we entered, I was shocked to see my step-mother sitting at a hard back chair at a table straight in front of us. I certainly hadn't expected to see her there! I immediately and gruffly puffed out that my father hadn't told me that she was going to be there. Instead of responding, my father walked into a bathroom, leaving me alone in the room with my step-mother. I didn't say anything to her; I didn't want to talk with her. She smiled, putting on an act as if nothing were wrong.
I moved toward a couch, thinking of sitting down. Instead of sitting, however, I hollered into the bathroom to my father that I had to leave and that I would talk to him later. He quickly came out of the bathroom. He obviously wanted me to stay. I told him I still wanted to talk to him but I didn't want to talk in front of my step-mother. Without saying anything, my step-mother stood up, walked to the door and left.
I immediately launched into a speech. I told my father I didn't like my step-mother because she only had one thing on her mind: getting as much money from my father as she could. I told him she didn't like me, even though she acted as if she did. I was a threat to her because I was one of his heirs. I almost said "supposed heirs," but I refrained from being spiteful. I thought for a moment of mentioning my sister as also being one of my father's heirs, but I thought it best not to mention her. I told him that my step-mother's desire was to cut me out of any inheritance.
My father began talking. He seemed weary. He said that if I wanted, he would sign a paper which would guarantee me a dividend in his estate. I was surprised to hear this; I had assumed that he intended to cut me off completely. But his intentions seemed quite different than I had expected. He said he already had what he called a "jittery will," which provided a dividend for me and my sister. The will was called a "jittery will" because he was still unsure what he wanted to do with his estate. But if something unexpected should happen to him, he wanted to make sure I would receive something. This was all more than I had expected; nevertheless, I wanted him to know that precisely this kind of arrangement had been one of the reasons for our estrangement: I didn't want some kind of dividend, like a trust – I wanted the Gallia County Farm.
Copyright 2011 by luciddreamer2k@gmail.com
