Tina

I woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs wafting behind my door. Receiving breakfast at my door wasn’t necessarily a new concept, but having it delivered in my house without hearing my mother’s voice accompanying it was. I stretched my arms and legs before I sat up in bed, and I planted my feet heavily on the floor.

I remembered mornings when I was growing up. Mom would bring me breakfast in bed-- fruit, eggs, bacon, and juice-- and my dad would be downstairs smoking his mint pipe. By the time I was done eating breakfast, the smell of his pipe would have wafted so far up the steps that I could smell it, and that’s when Mom would start in on him smoking in the house.

But, as I opened the door and saw breakfast sitting on the ground, there was no smell of mint. There was no smoke, there was no pipe, and there was no nagging mother.

There was only silence.

I picked up the breakfast tray and carried it into the room as I realized an envelope was sitting underneath my plate. I picked it up and opened it, not caring too much for food, and the words across the letterhead in big, bold letters read as such:

Last Will And Testament

I took a shaky breath and closed my eyes for a second. I wanted to process these last few moments. The few moments where-- for the briefest of seconds-- I could still convince myself he was alive.

I could still tell myself my father was downstairs smoking his pipe.

Because I knew the moment I read this, it would be real. I knew the moment I showered, dressed, and went to the florist, it would be real. I knew the moment I chanced to look into my mother’s eyes, it would be real.

“I love you so much daddy,” I whispered.

I opened my eyes as my tears dripped onto the page. They scanned the document-- written in my father’s own handwriting-- and I read through the funeral arrangements he set forth. The writing was sloppy, no doubt written by the shaky dominant hand that was affected by one of his many strokes, but I could make out every single thing he wanted.

White and yellow roses to lay on his casket.

Mints in little bags to be handed to everyone that attended the funeral.

A private burial with just the family.

No wake.

Eulogy to be given by…

Me?

He wanted me to give the eulogy?

Not Mom?

I flipped the page over and fumed when I saw the next page. It listed the assets he had allocated to the family, meaning my mother had this officially read without me. I saw the bottom form had already been signed off by her, and there was a blank space for my signature.

The witness had even signed it.

“She really likes her wedges,” I murmured.

But, as my eyes continued to scan the document, I realized there was something off about his assets. He left control of his estate to Bernie, he left his offshore accounts I didn’t even know he had to Mom, and he left control of his business to me.

He left me the business he built.

I flipped to the last page and saw it was different from the others. I wasn’t written on the same elegant stationary as my father’s will and testament, but was written on something akin to cheap printer paper. I recognized the handwriting as well as the clipped phrases, and I sighed as I allowed the papers to flutter to the bed.

The florist is expecting you at noon. I need you to get to the caterer at three. Dinner is at seven.

Mom

I felt tears drifting down my face again as my mind began to spin with what I’d just processed. My father had just left me his entire business. A law firm he had built from the ground-up that housed some of the finest defense attorneys in the state of New York. Located on the edge of the main city was a hulking building with 18 floors, and each floor was rented out to a specific lawyer for a specific amount of time. Some lawyers had been there for years, and some only rented on a year-to-year basis. My father kept one lawyer on each floor so them and their clients could have their privacy, and his office was located at the top. He specialized in divorces, but the lawyers below him all specialized in something different.

He charged them all rent to use their level of the building, they all split the bills evenly across all occupied floors, and if they won a case he gained a certain agreed upon percentage of their final bulk payment negotiated within their contract.

And he left the entire thing to me.

I didn’t know the first fucking thing about being a lawyer. I had actually stayed away from the profession because of the hours my father kept. The bullshit he’d seen. The couples who ripped each other apart and the people who were taken advantage of by corporations trying to keep them silent.

I could handle my job because one of my requirements was people owning up to the shit they did.

I couldn’t handle people who didn’t own up to their bullshit.

“Knock, knock.”

I heard Maddie enter the room, but I didn’t make a move to clean myself up. I felt overwhelmed and alone, and even as I felt her slip her arm around my waist, I wished Kevin was there.

He would know what to do.

“Have you tried eating?” Maddie asked.

“Not hungry,” I said, sniffling.

“You wanna try taking a shower?” she asked.

But, all I could do was point to the papers on the floor.

“You want that?” she asked.

I saw her pick up the papers and I knew the moment she laid eyes on them she’d scan them. She’d scan them quicker than I’d ever be able to, and by the time she placed them back in my hand I knew she’d seen what I had.

“Why don’t we get you a hot shower, then we’ll get dressed and go into town. We’ve gotta do some things to prepare, but that doesn’t mean we can’t take a walk and get some fresh air,” she said.

“What am I going to do?” I asked.

“Does your Mom know?” she asked.

“She signed it, so I assume so,” I said.

“Is she even here?” she asked.

“I don’t think so,” I said, whispering.

“Maddie, I don’t know the first thing about being a lawyer,” I said. “I mean, I-I-I have my own business. In D.C. I can’t just stick around and learn an entirely new trade. And I have to go to his office. Shit, he’s got all those lawyers who pay rent. A-a-and commissions if they win. Holy hell, I’m gonna have to balance those bank accounts. How am I gonna do all this shit from D.C.?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, alright? We’ll take this one question at at time. But, for now, there are more important things we have to do,” she said.

“Maddie, this business is still happening. Right now. It’s happening right now,” I said breathlessly.

“If you can’t breathe, Tina, I’m going to call Kevin,” she said.

Kevin.

Kevin would know what to do.

“Kevin…” I whispered.

“Would you like me to call Kevin?” she asked.

“Kevin…”

“Tina, let’s get you in the shower. A nice, hot shower so you can wake up and calm down. I’ll call Kevin while you’re in there. I’m sure he can help us out today. Alright?” she asked.

“We have to be at the florist by noon, and the caterer by three,” I said.

“The caterer, too?” she asked.

“Yeah. Mom said so.”

“Alright. I’m sure Kevin won’t mind coming with us. I’ll see if he can pick us up, alright?” she asked.

“Mom said she wanted us to take her car,” I said.

“Well, your mother can shove it for all I care,” she said, smirking. “Do you want me to go start your shower?”

“No,” I said breathlessly. “Who’s gonna call Kevin?”

“I will, sweetheart. Once I know you’re in the shower cleaning up,” she said.

“I’m not a lawyer,” I said.

“I know, Tee.”

“I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

“I know, Tee,” she said.

“I’m not-”

I closed my eyes and drew in a long breath through my nose. I tried so hard to smell the smoke and mint that should be coming up the stairs. I tried so hard to be that little girl again, bounding down the stairs to sit at my father’s legs while he worked.

I tried so hard to make him alive.

“I’m not daddy’s little girl anymore,” I said.

“You will always be your father’s little girl,” she said. “Always.”

And I leaned into the crook of Maddie’s arm and sobbed onto her shoulder.