I woke up, burnt my hands from the faucet, and slathered on expensive hand cream. Grandpa told me about when he took the L train to meet an old friend at a diner in the West Village. I wrote in my head while the sky drained itself in the ten minutes it took him to tell me how he earned his first million.
Okay, I thought. Good. September rain.
They went to the Square Diner. Grandpa made sure to mention his infatuation with their omelets and how he accidentally knocked over the salt, then scooped it up and tossed it behind his shoulder.
“At some point in this life, I’ve become very analytical but not quite calculated,” he reflects.
I met with my father, uncle, grandmother, and two great-uncles to sort out his will two years later. I remember distinctly wearing a low-back polyester dress and black kitten heels to the estate lawyer’s office. I curled my hair nicely and ate breath mints. My mouth felt like a calcified object, and I prayed for a sip of something hot. I just need a little bit to get me through the 4-hour meeting. I found departure tempting when my grandma began sobbing at the prospect of pawning his wedding ring. The lawyer apologized for even suggesting it and took $80 from our fees for even mentioning it. Good man.
Grandpa’s net worth was 5.3 million. I was surprised because I had always thought it was 3 million. He left me with $250k, a bookshelf, and a few alpaca fur sweaters, which I later found out retailed for $300 each. I immediately put $60k away to cover tuition for the next year and my sorority fees. I told my dad to hold on to the rest, scared of what I might do if I was left with that kind of money.
Back at his place to collect our new belongings, I rummaged through his office drawers whilst everyone else was upstairs going through his bedroom. I found a few items I could keep for sentimentality since I knew nobody wanted the clutter stuffed into his desk. I took a paperweight, a couple moleskin journals, a framed picture of my grandmother on her wedding day, and a few ink cartridges for my printer at home. I stuffed those into my purse and headed out before everyone else, but not before hugging everyone goodbye and leaving my dad with the money I knew I shouldn’t keep. I took a 5-hour commercial flight back to New Jersey, took the same L train he took, got to my flat, and tried on the Alpaca sweaters. It was now 11 pm. I shimmied in front of my full-length mirror and tossed each sweater onto the chair at my desk when I was done wearing it. Each plush sweater piled at my desk and stayed there for a few nights; I think there were four or five of them.
