Coming Home

Thirteen

I enter the building with a heavy heart and mixed emotions; while I'm relieved that this is my last obligation in this town, I'm not at all looking forward to hearing the contents of my grandmother's will. There's a sense of finality looming over the reading of the document, one that verifies that Gran's death is absolute. As if the wake and funeral weren't enough, the overwhelming realization that my grandma will never return seems entirely more definite at this very moment. It brings an unsettled feeling to my stomach, and tears threaten to fall from my eyes once more. I choke them back, however, refusing to show any more vulnerability in the presence of these people than I already have over the past few days.

I'm the last of my family members to arrive at the lawyer's office, which doesn't exactly surprise me; I should have known that these people would be eager to receive whatever amounts of money or property my wealthy grandmother left to them. Honestly, their immense greed is probably the only reason they're here; they'd have little care about how Gran decided to divvy up her belongings otherwise. I hold in a frustrated sigh as I try to push aside those thoughts; I don't want to cause a scene here. I'm greeted with a myriad of death glares, blank stares, and confused frowns, which I do my best to ignore. As much as I'd enjoy finally putting these people in their proper place, I can't. This isn't the time for such things.

Besides, that would involve actually speaking to the people who have hurt me the most, and I think I'll pass on that. Indefinitely.

While I have arrived with about twenty minutes to spare before our scheduled time, I overhear my father and a few other relatives loudly complaining about the long wait. I can't help but balk at their repulsive behavior; it's certainly not an appropriate way for adults to behave in a situation like this. Or at all, really. While I find their immaturity and rudeness appalling and utterly disrespectful toward both the lawyer himself and our current circumstances, unfortunately, it doesn't come as any surprise; they've always been rather greedy and selfish people. I suppose there are some things not even time can change.

As the minutes tick by seemingly slowly, I stand quietly off to the side of the waiting room, thankful this trip is almost over. I'm beyond ready to return to my life in New York. To leave this place once and for all and never look back. The thought alone has my nerves calming slightly, knowing that the end is finally in sight. Be strong, Kate; it's just another hour or two, and you'll be free.

We're called into the lawyer's meeting room precisely as the clock strikes one o'clock and not a second before or after; this lawyer must have a fetish for punctuality or something. Not that I'm complaining. In fact, I would probably have even delayed the meeting by a few minutes if I were him. That's what these people and their disgusting behavior deserve. Again, I find myself lingering near the doorway, keeping my distance from the others in the room. I don't have any desire to be close to these people, nor do I want to be here any longer than necessary. Once the will has been read, I'll silently slip out of the room before anyone even notices, and then I'll be on my way back to New York. To where I belong.

The lawyer introduces himself and says a few kind words about my grandmother since he knew her personally. Again, this doesn't surprise me; it's kind of expected for everyone to know everyone else in a place like this. He then opens the manila envelope containing Gran's will and begins reading aloud. I don't pay much attention as the lawyer goes through name after name, announcing what each person has inherited and dividing Gran's belongings between the people currently occupying the room. Grumbles and groans of dissatisfaction can be heard throughout the space from those who are obviously not pleased with what they've been given. Of course, when a wealthy relative passes away, you see people's true colors.

I choose to ignore the sounds of ungratefulness, wishing wholeheartedly, yet entirely in vain, that these people would care more about the now permanent absence of Gran than the lining of their wallets. I'm only here out of respect for my grandma, not because I think I'm somehow entitled to or deserving of something that was never mine to begin with. Honestly, I'd still cherish her memory dearly if she left nothing to me; I wish all these so-called family members could feel the same way.

"And lastly," the lawyer says, drawing a hush over the entire room. It's quite evident that this must be the announcement they've been waiting for, the one they've most anticipated since the news of Gran's passing. A quick glance around the room tells me that everyone is sitting at the edge of their seats, silently urging the lawyer to finish his sentence. "I leave my house and everything contained within it," the lawyer continues, pausing for dramatic effect before delivering the words that he knows these people are dying to hear. Perhaps he's toying with them a little, maybe as a form of retribution for the lack of decorum they've displayed since arriving in his office. If that's the case, I think I've found an even deeper newfound appreciation for this man. The lawyer completes his statement with a deep breath, "To my granddaughter, Alexis."

Her house?

Gran left me her... house?

Tension suddenly grows in the air, making it difficult to breathe; it's glaringly apparent that no one in the room is pleased with that final announcement. I can see the lawyer's lips moving, signaling to my brain that he's still talking, but my mind can't seem to process any of what he's saying. The enraged murmurs of my family members as they try to control their emotions while in a public setting have no effect on me, either. I can't even believe that my grandma left me her house... something so eagerly sought after by most of the family... and what's worse, something so entirely significant in linking me back to this place.

As grateful as I know I should be, I'm absolutely terrified of what this means.