Five(43)

Everything that came after her death has been a distraction—the memorial, the people who had to be contacted, and all the things to sign and do, even though Luna had, of course, planned every last detail so Sonny wouldn’t have to worry about it. And so somehow, the need for the games has gotten out of his system. He was surprised, he thought he would need to feel the electricity and then the numbness, but he hasn’t wanted that. He has only wanted to be good these last few weeks, to be good for his mother so that at last she wouldn’t worry. Because he knew she would worry about him, even when she was dead.

The lawyer continues, “The flat is yours now. She owned it outright with no mortgage. She wanted you to have it, to keep until you get on your feet without having to worry about rent, and you can live there, or rent it out for extra income, which she thought you might want to do eventually.

“After that there was about ?100,000 she had in savings, some of it still left over from your father’s life insurance, which she was clever about investing. Your mother was a very thoughtful woman,” the lawyer says.

Sonny smiles sadly because this seems like the socially appropriate moment to do that. Thoughtful was one way to describe his mother. Strong-willed, a force of nature, and pathologically insistent on his success were others. Sonny can’t remember this lawyer’s name even though she just said it a few minutes ago, and he thinks how strange it is that she knows these intimate details about his life but that he doesn’t even know her name.

“However, about ?25,000 of that was already accessed to pay your outstanding debts and settle your bills with various credit cards, collection agencies, and your university,” the lawyer, whose name might be Helen or might be Emily, continues. “The remaining money will still go to you, but it will be held in a trust, and in order to access it you’ll have to meet certain conditions.”

“Her master plan to control me from the afterlife,” Sonny says, with a sad grin.

“The afterlife won’t know what’s hit it, Sonny,” Gabriela says, trying not to cry. On second thought, maybe Sonny should not have brought Gabriela. She has been trying not to cry since they got here.

“If you comply with the conditions, you’ll receive the remainder in thirds. You’ll receive the first ?25,000 when you have finished your degree and held a part-time job for three years with no outstanding debts and you’re living a financially solvent life. You will also attend Gamblers Anonymous during that time. Gabriela will have full access to all of your bank accounts and credit cards. You’ll receive the next ?25,000 once you have a full-time job and have remained gainfully employed for two years. After that, if you can prove full-time employment with no outstanding debts, you will receive the final ?25,000, liquidating the trust. If you don’t meet these conditions and provide the proof required by the trust, the money stays where it is until you do. There are contingencies in place for redundancy, illness, or other things that might come up, but that’s the general structure. Does that make sense so far?”

“Yes,” Sonny says. “She thought of everything.”

And she did. Except for how it makes him feel to know that she loved him so much and trusted him so little.



* * *





He does it. Everything his mother wanted him to do. Finishes his degree at night, works in the day, Gamblers Anonymous meetings, no debts, no gambling for three years. It is hard, really, really hard, he slips up a couple of times, but mostly he stays busy, he has Gabriela checking on him, and when he makes a mistake they deal with it right away and he moves on. Part of him wonders if deep down he is doing it so he can get the cash so he can gamble as soon as he has it. But when the first ?25,000 arrives what he feels is nervous. He takes his aunt out to dinner and they tell stories about Luna and laugh until they cry.

“She’s so proud of you,” Gabriela says.

“How do you know? Does she talk to you?” he says.

“She never shuts up,” Gabriela says, and they both laugh.

“Hey,” she says, just before leaving. “Do you want me to hold the money for you? Will you be okay?” and in his aunt’s face he sees his mother’s younger face, the Luna of his adolescence.

“You know what,” he says, “I think I will. I’ve learned a lot, I’ve got to trust myself,” he says. “But thank you,” and then, “Do you think I can do it? I mean, maybe I should give it to you to hold,” he says, suddenly doubting himself and all of his hard work.

And it is here that Gabriela should have listened to Luna, who was calling to her, who had learned a few lessons in the afterlife, but the champagne has clouded Gabriela’s hearing, because instead of saying, “I know you can do it,” she says, “You know I’m always here, you’ve always got a safety net,” which does not mean he can do it. It means, when he fucks up, which is likely, she will help.

But Sonny devises a plan. He puts the money in a savings account at a different bank from his usual one, and refuses to set up internet banking so he can’t easily get to it, and throws away the ATM card that comes automatically with the account, and doesn’t even look at the PIN number that comes in the post, and receives only paper statements that he doesn’t take out of the envelope and that he throws away immediately when they arrive. He puts Gabriela’s name on the account so that she also gets the statements as a check, a buffer, to keep him honest. He installs Gamban on his phone and his computer so he can’t access any sites. He stays busy, working, running, working, running, and after work one day he is running late for a meeting and he stumbles into the room and trips over a bag that belongs to Valentina.