“Please, come in.” She stepped to the side to allow us to pass. The foyer was huge and had a staircase that seemed like it belonged in a fancy museum.
“Why don’t you both wait here, and I’ll find out. Okay?” She ran the towel through her hands a few times, looking hesitant before disappearing around the staircase.
“Did she look like me? Do you think we’re related?” I had a million questions. Pixie took a few steps into the parlor to our left. It was filled with books and pictures of strangers. She stepped closer to one on a high shelf and went to her tiptoes.
“This one. Come look at this one.” She gestured to the faded picture in a wooden frame.
“Oh.” It was weird to see your face in someone else’s. I had a few pictures of Mom, but not many, and none of them were this close up, like it had been taken by a professional. Her eye color and mine were a perfect match.
“She was beautiful.” Pixie didn’t seem to have any hesitation that the picture was of my mother.
“She was that,” from behind us an elderly man spoke.
I turned around to face him.
“And you must be her son.”
I nodded. In my head I’d introduced myself formally, made a great impression. I think the only thing I was doing in reality was making my eyes huge and gulping air.
“This is Gaze and I’m Pixie Rae and we need your help.” Pixie stepped up and held out her hand like a businesswoman. I followed her lead and held out my hand, too.
The older man shook hers and then held my hand a bit longer. “It’s like stepping back in time. Seeing you. So much like her.”
Pain and sadness, possibly some disbelief, mixed in his eyes. I wondered if he had rehearsed this moment, too, like I had and was also failing at hitting all the right notes.
“Let’s step into my office, shall we?” The lady who had opened the door for us was puttering around the foyer, wiping down tables with her towel.
“It’s not entertainment, Matilda. Please find something else to do.”
She hurried away.
The man held open the door and Pixie and I sat in the seats across from the fancy leather one.
He closed the office door and walked behind the desk. He was wearing a gray suit and a red tie on a Saturday.
“You’ve come here without your father?”
He sat and the chair made a squeaking noise that reminded me of a fart and I started to lose my control. It was hitting me as hilarious. Pixie reached over and pinched my arm hard, warning in her eyes. She knew a fart would always get me rolling. I swallowed my laughter.
“Yes. Just Pixie and me.”
He crossed his arms and regarded us both. “Why are you here?”
Not are you okay? Is everything all right? Do you want to hear stories about your mom? Just getting to the endgame.
“I heard you were rich and we aren’t. Dad’s having a rough time, so I want to pay the bills.” If he wanted to get straight to it, so be it. We could both play this game.
“Your father is having a rough time? Is that so? So the move to the big city wasn’t the answer to every problem he had? No one could have seen that coming.” The older man huffed.
I knew my face was getting red and my mouth was getting dry as well.
“Hey, moneybags, let’s not be a jerk about it and hear some solutions to the problem.” Pixie was ready to fight for me, like she always was.
His eyebrows crawled up into his hairline as he registered her words. “You both don’t mince words, huh?”
“You’re not being real friendly. I expected more from my...grandfather.”
I’d never called him that before. Even by myself in my head. He was always Mom’s dad if I thought about him at all.
“Is that so? Well, go on then. Tell me how I can magically fix your life with my money.” And then he put his shoulders back.
Pixie stood up and put both her hands on his desk. “We just rode a train an hour and a half to get here to talk to you. Don’t make us regret it. This boy is amazing. More amazing than you could ever be.”
I looked at my feet. I was having a hard time saying what I needed to. I had hoped hard that it’d be a good experience. They would offer me money before I even had to ask, maybe ask me about some of the things that I was interested in.
The old man opened a drawer and slid out a checkbook. “How much?”
Pixie made a frustrated noise. She pointed to a picture on the wall. “He looks just like her. Just like her.”
The man glanced from the picture to me and back, his shoulders slumping. “Why did you come?”
It was a little better than how much? at least.
“My father is going through a rough time, and I’d like us to be able to stay in our apartment.”
Pixie opened up her backpack and slid the paper that we had compiled over to him. “This is what they’re looking at monthly.”
My grandfather unfolded his glasses on his chin while he shook the paperwork.
“I see. This is…well-thought-out.” He proposed the numbers and nodded slowly. Finally, he offered a surprised, “An alcohol budget?”
“If he doesn’t get it, things get worse.” I folded my hands on my lap, feeling the humiliation of my dad’s addiction.
“You do know that your father killed my daughter in a drunken car accident, correct?” He peered over his glasses at me, like I had been driving as well.
I looked at my hands. I didn’t know. The way Dad had talked about it, it seemed like cancer had taken her when I was a toddler. Or something medical. It explained a lot. Like why I wasn’t involved with these people at all. They probably hated me.
Pixie’s hand covered mine.
“He was a baby. Would your daughter want you to still love Gaze and provide for him?”
A tear escaped and I wanted to wipe it, but I wasn’t moving my hands. I was so thankful that she could speak. I was just dumbfounded.
My grandfather stood. I could hear his chair scraping the floor. I risked a peek. His back was to me, and he was looking at the picture on the wall.
“I told her not to marry him. That it would be the death of me. Turns out, I was close to right. God, I wish it had been me.” His voice choked off and he put his hand on his forehead, rubbing.
“I can’t deal with this. I can’t let my wife deal with this. We’ve moved on. It hurts, and I’m not willing to open her up to all of this.”
He waved his hand in my direction.
“Then you have one choice. You pay Gaze’s bills and we won’t trouble you with him again. But it’s your loss. I wouldn’t have chosen a day without this guy.” Pixie stood up, too, glaring.
My grandfather stared at the picture for a long time. “Okay. Okay. Give me the address.”
Pixie was prepared with all the information my grandfather needed, including a bank account number. He carefully copied the information and then set his pen down.
Pixie tapped her fingers on the desk as she stood. “You deliver every month, and we won’t have to come back.”
I stood up as well, waiting for maybe a kind word, or anything from him.
He dug into his wallet, pulling out a small stack of twenties. “This should get you home. And maybe a dinner. I’ll give my accountant this information and he’ll put you on a schedule.”