Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
That makes me sad. Again. Not that someone else’s sadness ever did anything for anyone else. It never made anything better, just like sorry is a pathetic word when all else fails.
I’m alone out here because of what someone else did to me, but it’s my choice. It’s not going to be forever.
I’ve always known money was just blah when it came to a lot of things. It can be fun, but what happens when the fun wears out and gets old?
“My mom went the same way. Cancer. But she fought for three years. I took every single job I could find, but I was still paying student loans, and the hospital bills were expensive. In the end, she wanted to be at home, and I quit all the jobs I was working so I could be with her. I had endless bills and debt collectors calling me all the time. So much unpaid everything. My parents had set a bit of money aside for their funerals, so I didn’t have to pay for those. They’re next to each other now, at least, though small fucking comfort, that is.
“The house had to be sold to pay off some of the debts, and when I was cleaning it out, that’s when I found out who they were. My mom kept the information in her safe in a token brown file folder. The kind you always see people keeping important stuff in on TV. It was just like that. I’d never gone in there before. Never had a reason. My parents didn’t keep money or fucking jewelry in there. They didn’t have any of that. I just knew they kept files, receipts they needed, passports, birth certificates, photos on a USB, and stuff you wouldn’t want to lose if your house burned down.”
“You contacted them then?” I ask.
“I did. That’s how I made my money.”
“I’m sorry….I’m not…how?” I dig my nails into the bale. I didn’t realize I was sitting on the very edge of it until now.
“My birth parents had me when they were thirteen. Yeah, super young. But then, they stayed together, got married, and had two other kids. They never told anyone what happened. My mom’s family did the whole going away for a few months to visit relatives thing, so no one even knew about me except my dad, his parents, and my mom and her parents. They met with me and told me all of that, and they said they were sorry, but they liked their lives the way they were. My dad made a lot of money doing stocks, and he’d created a corporation to help other people learn how to get into trading. He had a public image to think about. They both did. So they offered me a quarter of a million dollars to stay quiet.”
“But you didn’t take the money?”
“No. Of course not. What’s two hundred and fifty thousand? I wanted a million.” Holy crap and a half, he’s so honest about all this. He’s decided he’s going to tell me, and he’s leaving out nothing, not even the heavy dose of self-depreciation. “If they were going to do the blood money thing, I thought I might as well make them bleed. Their offer was an insult.”
“Of course it was. Who pays their own child to stay out of their lives like they are a dirty secret? The child is a person!”
I want to jump up. I want to throw up. I want to get mad. The cats are done eating now. They’ve finished and vanished, and I wasn’t even paying attention. We could both use some cat love right now. Cats lower blood pressure, and I need mine lowered. I need mine seriously lowered. I half want to jump up and walk around this barn, venting, and the other half of me wants to lift these walls by hand and jack them up with my own body because I’m that pissed at hearing this. Pissed power. It’s a thing.
“No. I mean, well, yes, but I’d done some research on them before meeting with them, and I knew exactly what his net worth was, and it was far more than that. He could afford a million. When they gave it to me, I thought I’d be a real asshole and try and make my money the same way he did. It worked out for me. I guess I have the same talents.”
“That’s…”
“Horrible? Dishonorable? Yes, well, I was an unwanted child, born in shame. I guess it set the tone for the rest of my life. Apparently, there’s only so far that nature goes against nurture. My adoptive parents loved the hell out of me, and I was like a curse that came into their lives, nearly bankrupting them and then doing nothing but watching them die.”