Page 52 of Voice to Raise
Back on solid footing. “Often without consulting with Indigenous tribes.”
“And offering them paltry amounts as compensation. It’s…” He flapped his hand.
“Frustrating?”
“Yes.” He speared a baby carrot. It slid in the butter, skipped off his plate, and landed on the table.
I grabbed it and popped it into my mouth.
As I hoped, that made him smile. “My parents raised me to be respectful of Indigenous peoples, Mother Nature, and the creator of all things.”
“God?”
He shook his head. “No. Virulently anti-religion.” He squinted. “The creator of all things is sort of like Mother Nature, only more powerful. Anyway, humans are supposed to be caretakers of the earth, but we’re destroying it. If my parents could, they’d live in a shack off the grid and survive on berries.”
“And yet something tells me they don’t.”
“Nope.” He again attempted to spear a carrot and this time, succeeded. “My mother’s parents were loaded.”
“Your grandparents.”
“Yep.”
That confused me—why not just refer to them as his grandparents?
“I never met them.”
“Oh.” An answer to my unasked question.
“Huge estrangement. My grandfather was big into oil, and my mother was a radical environmentalist—the two didn’t go together. Like, oil and water.” He snickered. “Anyway, I lived with my parents in a tiny one-bedroom apartment, and they worked for nonprofits. Making a difference.”
“Like you.” I was still struggling to hold on to the narrative because clearly I was missing something—I just couldn’t figure out what it was.
He gazed around his condo. “I live in the lap of luxury compared to the way I lived as a kid. Then one day, everything changed.”
“In what way?”
“My grandfather died. Naturally, he left his estate to his widow.”
“Your grandmother.”
“Yep. And she passed the next year.”
“I’m sorry.” Wholly inadequate, but something needed to be said.
“I’m not. I mean, it’s sad they died, but everyone dies.” His laugh sounded hollow. “My grandmother had never updated her will. She left most of her estate to my mother with a small amount set aside for any potential grandchildren.”
“You.”
“Me.”
“What did that mean?”
“I thought it might mean we could move into a bigger apartment. Heck, I thought maybe we could move into my grandparents’ house. I’d never been in anywhere so grand.”
“No?”
“Nope. We only went once—to settle my grandparents’ estate. The house was put on the market, and my parents donated all the money.”
