Page 1 of Losing Forever
1
Braylee
“Congratulations. You're rich!” the legal assistant says with a crooked smile on his gaunt face. He sits across from me in the law firm’s conference room. Wrinkles show on his gray suit jacket as he shuffles papers around with jittery hands as if he chugged three Red Bulls. “You’re young to be inheriting such a large amount of money. Can I recommend a financial advisor to help you regulate your funds?”
Financial advisor. It’s probably a better idea than letting it sit in my account, not that I plan to touch so much as a penny.
“Sure,” I murmur. My voice sounds grim, even to me. I tug down the long sleeves of my black sweater, hiding my scars.
The assistant shifts papers and business cards from one folder to another, his hands flying about as if he’s trying to psych me out with a magic trick.
My eyes can’t keep up and really, I don’t care about what he’s doing. All I care about is getting home and curling up in the blanket on my bed. The keepsake used to adorn the back of the couch at my old house and was used by everyone in the family, each of us snuggling in it on more than one occasion. My little brother preferred to be rolled up like a burrito. Having it around my body makes me feel like my family is still with me, if only for a little while.
“Money isn't everything,” the assistant says with a dry laugh. “Or so I hear.”
I glance up. “What?”
“Money. Some people claim it isn’t everything and it can’t buy happiness. I disagree. Money can change a person’s life. It can give them experiences they’ve never had. I figure an inheritance like this can buy a lot of happiness. Wouldn’t you agree?” He smiles crookedly again and bobs his head as if agreeing with himself, or maybe he's waiting for me to agree with him.
Instead, I stare as if he’s insane. How is this a normal conversation, given the circumstances? “Look, Bob. I just want this finished so I can go. Okay?”
He winks and clicks his tongue. “I get it. You’re in a hurry to get out of here and spend some of this money. I’d be the same.”
I touch my temples where an ache forms behind my eyes. “Do you know why I’m here?”
“Today’s payday.” He gestures to the papers scattered across the desk.
I close my eyes to keep from rolling them and take a calming breath.It’s times like this I wish I were back in Seattle. I could be using my dad's attorney, but then my Aunt Lina would still be with me, far from home and missing her family, too.
“Come to Florida with me,” she said, standing in my childhood home. “We have attorneys in Winter Park. Good ones who can settle the estate. You need to be with family right now.There’s nothing left for you here.” She gestured to the great room with its two-story ceilings, the furniture, and decorative accessories still in place, even though cardboard boxes sat in the corner ready to be filled so the house could be listed.
She cupped my hands.“Please, Braylee. Come back with me. Let me help you acclimate to your new life. Let me do it for my sister,”she added, tears in her eyes.
My heart ached for her.She lost family, too. Then she flew across the US to care for me and handle my parents' house, cars, and bills until I was released from the hospital.She gave up four months of her life and time with her family. How could I say no?
“Today isn't payday.” I frown, swarmed with hurt and anger over all I lost. “It’s settle-my-parents-estate day. You said I was young to be inheriting this kind of money. Think about why that would be?” I hold his gaze, the whites of his eyes veiny and yellow in an unhealthy way. Overworked and underpaid, my dad would have said.
Bob's brows pinch together. He takes in my black outfit.
I couldn’t bring myself to wear color today. It’s not a celebration. It’s another reminder that my family is gone.
Instead of recognition showing on his face, his brows pull deeper. “But you’re so young,” he says with disbelief.
I nod. I'm almost nineteen, but I don’t look my age. Never have. Without makeup, I could pass for a freshman in high school. My mom always looked much younger than her true age, too. She said I’d appreciate it one day.
“Uh?” Bob shuffles through a few papers and removes one to review. “Shit.” It’s a whisper. He glances up, shame etched on his weathered face. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were a different client. She’s coming in today to take over her eighteenth birthday trust fund. I just assumed… I mean, what are the odds?” He lets out a tense laugh. “I apologize and am terribly sorry for your loss. I’m an idiot. I-I can get someone else to finish this if you’d like. Chuck is going to be furio—” His lips press together in a hard line and he shakes his head.
Chuck Whitley is the attorney he works for. He introduced himself to me, explained his first-name only policy, the procedure for today, and then he left me with his assistant.Bob.
“What can I do to make this better?” Desperation shines from Bob's eyes.
“Just finish the paperwork and get me out of here. I won’t say anything to Chuck.” He’s not my attorney. Aunt Lina recommended him.
Bob moves even faster, organizing folders, sorting papers, and tagging them with yellow arrow stickies that say,sign here.He lines three stacks of documents in front of me, each opened to pages with the yellow tabs, and gives me a pen.“Your signature, please, on each set of documents, and then you’ll be good to go.”
I take the fat pen and scribble my signature, aching a little at the legacy of my family's name and how its continuation relies on me and if I change my last name when I get married or pass it on to my child.IfI get married andifI have a child.
When I set the pen down, Bob gathers the papers and stuffs them in three separate folders. He sets two off to the side and places an open one in front of me. He points to the bank statement and a business card clipped to the inner pocket. “This is your copy.The amount has been deposited into your checking account. Attached are the financial advisors the firm uses. I recommend Kelly. She’s excellent in matters such as these and not an idiot like some people.” He frowns at the table, and I feel bad for him.
