We got in my car and drove to the exit. When it was time to pay the thirty dollars to park, she handed me her credit card.
“It’s fine,” I said, waving it away.
“Just take it.”
We exited the garage into the over-the-top opulence of downtown Beverly Hills. The sky was as dark as my mood. Rain fell like sheets, walling us off both metaphorically and literally from the sleek storefronts and unattainable luxuries beckoning from inside. Driving in, I had felt like a kid in a candy store, salivating over the crisp white shirts from Barneys, pens from Montblanc, and Prada for the Mrs.—not that we needed those things; it was just fun to imagine spoiling ourselves a little after so many years of struggle. But now the sight of it all made me want to gouge my eyes out. I know it sounds like I was an entitled little shit, but I had mouths to feed, and a wife who married me expecting I would provide for them. Mom had raised me to believe that giving up was for losers, so I tried to put those guitar lessons to good use by starting a band—an “occupation” that cost me more than I earned doing it. The credit cards my mom had cosigned for were maxed out, and we were literally living on the edge. I may have been irresponsible, but Mom had enabled me, instructing me to pursue an “enviable” life. When I told her my version of an enviable life didn’t include running a casting agency, she told me I was a fool but didn’t force the issue. For her to cut me off like this was a complete and utter betrayal. She had left me tumbling toward the hard earth without a parachute. I was terrified. But I was also pissed.
“How are you not livid?” I asked my sister, who was maddeningly jocular.
“Oh, for God’s sakes, Charlie, quit the self-righteous bullshit. It was Mom’s money. If she didn’t want to give it to us, there’s no rule she had to.”
“So you’re fine with Nathan’s girlfriend getting everything?”
“We let her die.”
“I have a wife and kids; it wasn’t just about me.”
“Fine. I let her die.”
“Stop!” I shouted. “None of us let her die. She pushed us away. It didn’t have to be like this.”
Winnie didn’t respond. I glanced over at her. She was crying. And suddenly I felt like a first-class prick.
“Sorry,” I apologized. “This is such a fucking piece-of-shit day.”
She waved off my apology. There were wet wipes in the center divider. I opened it and handed her one.
“I don’t have Kleenex,” I said. “There’s alcohol in them, so don’t use it to wipe your eyes.”
She took the wipe from my outstretched hand and blew her nose into it.
“I know I’m too emotional,” I said. “I just . . . I can’t believe she did this.”
“Let’s just see how it plays out,” my sister offered.
Like always, Winnie was the calm and reasonable one—Beauty to my Beast. Maybe Nathan was right and Ashley Brooks would do the right thing. Or at least take pity on us and throw us a bone. Hopefully a few million of them. I suddenly felt grateful Nathan had stopped me from saying anything I couldn’t take back.
I tried to imagine what I would do if I were in Ashley’s shoes. Would I share the money with the family? Or keep it for myself like the dead woman wanted? I wondered what Mom had told her about us. Did she tell her we were awful and selfish and not worthy? Whatever this woman thought she knew, it wasn’t the whole story. Nobody knew that but Winnie and me. Maybe the solution was to sit her down and tell her. Not just about that terrible day that our mother asked us to save her life. But the shameful reasons we’d both had to say no.
PART 4
* * *
AFTER
NATHAN, ASHLEY, WINNIE & CHARLIE
CHAPTER 31
* * *
NATHAN
I slumped down on my bed and listened to the message again.
“Hello,” the voice said. “This is Silvia Hernandez. I am very sorry to have to tell you this, but I have some very sad news. Very sad. Tu tía está muerta. Your aunt is dead.” Just moments before I was basking in the memory of last night’s hot date with Ashley; now I was a crumpled heap crying into my pillow.
I took a few minutes to pull myself together, then called Winnie and Charlie to tell them their mom had passed. Both son and daughter were predictably shocked and behaved accordingly. Charlie blasted me with expletives, and Winnie hung up on me—both reasonable reactions under the circumstances.
I canceled my morning meetings, then got dressed to go to Louisa’s. Thanks to Nurse Silvia and the expedient crew from the morgue, Louisa wouldn’t be there anymore—Silvia had offered to “arrange for pickup,” and I’d gratefully let her oversee the extraction. But I still thought I should peek in on things, given that the house had been vacated so suddenly and unexpectedly.