The Will had been read, and all the legal jargon had been spoken. A few signatures, some condolences from people whom I had never met before and who had never met my mother, so far as I knew. Suddenly, I was the proud owner of a single-story house with an attached garage, along with a barn and 4 acres of land. I idly wondered if it had a basement. I loved the idea of a cozy underground space. The feeling of the land's embrace around me.
There was also the fact that I no longer had to worry about my college fund. Between her investments and her excessive life insurance, I was more than just well off. I was a bloody millionaire. Immediate assets in the bank accounts were in excess of 700,000$ and my new stock portfolio was currently valued at just over 2 million.
I plan to inspect the house and property tomorrow before the baseball game with Edythe. The lawyers told me that it was a maintained property so it should not have too many issues. Though I will have until next Friday to get all the utilities and such under my name to avoid a disruption in services.
As expected, Mom left a bunch of fine China and family 'Daughter' heirlooms. Meant to be passed along the female line of the family. Bella would probably put them in storage for now. With Renee moving around so much they wouldn't last long at all under her care. Though Bella wanted to see them and get pictures for her mother at least before they were safely locked away. Other odds and ends, like some Wedding dresses were part of that collection as well as some baby blankets and family made blankets. Sounded like stuff they couldn't sell in a Yard Sale to me, but I'm a guy so what do I know?
Finally, the last thing the Will addressed sat in my hand. A letter. I was fidgeting with it constantly, one minute rubbing my thumb over the writing on the envelope, another it was between my fingers being flipped back and forth. I wanted to open it and read what it said, but then I didn't want to. Every decision was followed by my moving the letter to a new position in my hand. I couldn't force myself to put it on the coffee table or let it go at all. It was as if I was afraid that if I let go of it, it would disappear. I even got a finger under the flap of the envelope to tear it open, but a dog barking outside made me pause. Did I really want a dog barking in the background as I read the final words of my mother?
Now you're being stupid, I told myself. I took a deep breath and slowly, carefully, started to open the envelope. I pulled the letter out and was shocked to see her letter was in plain old college-ruled paper from a spiral notebook. It still had the torn holes along the left edge. I was expecting something more formal, like Vellum or something. Wouldn't that fit the occasion better? This just seemed too...Ordinary.
When I unfolded the paper, I saw her perfect looping cursive handwriting. She always said that if you write too fast, it's sloppy and that is a sign of a sloppy mind that makes quick decisions and many mistakes. She then turned it into a life lesson, "Just like life, if you make a mistake in writing, you often ruin everything you did before the mistake. All that effort has to be redone as you move to a new piece of paper. Life doesn't offer whiteout, and truly important documents with whiteout make it look unbefitting of the topic."
Just remembering the lecture made me sigh and roll my eyes. If she had seen that, she would have smacked the back of my head. I had a half smile on my face as I started to read the letter.
My dearest son, my little King.
Ugh, I forgot she used to call me that when I was little. My middle name was chosen by my father. Naresh meant Lord of Man; the King, in the Hindi language. It was one of Johnny's favorite things to pick on me about when they first got together. I finally convinced her to stop calling me that about a year and a half before she died.
If everything is going as I wish, I am sitting next to you, and tomorrow is your wedding day. At least, that is what I am hoping for, as I sit and write this letter. Right now, I am watching you sleep off a sugar high from your 12th birthday party. You didn't even make it to your room, just passed out on the couch after spending 5 minutes telling me how you weren't tired. I can't explain how weird it feels to look at my little boy and try to imagine the man you will be when you finally read this.
Your father was taken from us before you even drew your first breath, and though I shudder at the horror of my leaving you early as well, I must see that as a possibility and share with you the little that I know of him, and tell you about myself also.
I promised myself that I would rewrite this letter every 4 years, so I would stay current in what to tell you. The first bit I thought would be easy, it's how your father and I met and how you came to be. But later on, I realized that a lot of what I was putting down wouldn't help you understand us much. You really don't need to know about his horrible sense of humor(one-liners and dad jokes, Sigh!) or his terrible luck at games of chance. (Seriously, if he were alive today, I would take him to a casino and bet against him four times whatever he was betting, and we would be rich as can be.) He always told me that he used up all his luck in leaving home and meeting me.
So, I will make the early years short. Your father's name was Devansh Parth Raizel, he preferred to be called Devan here in America, though. We met in College, I was going for financial law, and he was doing the same, just different specialties. We were competitors at first, his written work was better than mine, but I had better articulation skills. We were placed together for a project and just stayed that way from then on.
Now, don't think too badly of us (and don't do it yourself), but we were married in a drive-in chapel by an Elvis impersonator in Las Vegas during the spring break before graduation. You wouldn't believe how outraged that made your aunt, it took her years to forgive me for that.
The reason we had made that rash choice was you. We were not as careful as we should have been, and you came into our lives. Devan was supposed to return home for some ceremony that was related to his 25th birthday that was still a year away. But he pushed that off so we would be married before you were born. He had some serious hangups about you being born out of wedlock and, well, I just can't deny him something he really wants. If I could, you would be a few years younger.
It turned out to be a good thing though, as shortly after graduation, your father died. The only thing the detectives could come up with was some sort of wild animal attack. The detectives tried to spare me as much as they could, not wanting it to affect my pregnancy. Not knowing what else to do, I focused on you and your needs. Got a great job that was flexible with single mothers in an industry where that was rare, I tried to excel for you and the company together.
I don't know if I should bother putting this in here, but it's on my mind, so I will. There is a chance that I have met someone I hope to share with you. His name is Johnny Track, he just started as a security consultant for the Firm. Hopefully, he is a good part of our life by now, or I will just remove mention of him in 4 years when I write this again, but he excites me, so here's to hoping.
If you are looking for more information on your father, I can only help a little. He planned to take me home to meet his family once you were born. I was hoping to meet them first, but he said there was some difficulty there because he didn't come home for his ceremony. It's in a small village he called Jivas Home, in the mountains of Nepal, in the Langtang District. He was the black sheep of the family according to him, they are all very ceremonial, and he hated the restriction of it all. If you go there looking for answers, I am not sure if you will be received well or seen as an interloper. Please be careful.
I am leaving you my family home in Forks, Washington. Renee and I got it from our parents, and Renee sold her half to me to buy a house in Phoenix, Arizona, so she could be an elementary school teacher. If, for whatever reason, you go to Forks, you should look up Charlie Swan. He is a Forks policeman and was married to my sister for a time before she screwed that all up. I swear, if I had met that man first... Well, whatever. He is a good man and will help you settle in if that's where you end up. If not, I am sure he will help you sell the house if you decide to do that.
I am not really sure what else to tell you, I don't know what circumstances led you to read this. Hopefully, you don't read it, and I will rewrite it yet again after your 16th birthday. Who knows, maybe your father's family will reach out to me by then. I have had word sent to them about you, but never heard anything back. I will end this in hopes it will never be read, but if it is. Know that you are the sum of all the joy in my life. I love you more than any words could express. I will see you again. Be it as I blubber into a handkerchief as you tell some girl "I Do!!", or in the next world. I love you, my son.
Mom.