Loving The Enemy

Daddy had spoiled me as much if not more than he had mom. From the time I was a little girl I don’t remember him ever telling me no. Looking around the room that my parents once shared I took in the largesse and grandeur that I was sure my mother would die without.

As my eyes fell on the walk in closet that was the size of most people’s bedrooms, I thought of the many suits hanging there that I would have to get rid of sooner or later. Mom was in no shape to handle that, just like she’d been in no shape to handle anything since the cops showed up at our door with the news that daddy had died.

“Where are you going?” Mom lifted her head long enough to watch me make my way to the door before dropping it back down in despair. I was mad at her and didn’t know why. Maybe because I hadn’t had time to grieve my own dad because I’ve been too busy trying to keep us from ruin while she wallowed in despair. I couldn’t choose now to fault her for her flighty ways though, she’s always been bordering on the wrong side of negligent.

“I’ll be back mother. Why don’t you take a nap?” I felt bad when I rolled my eyes and made my escape.

Well, it was finally over. The last two weeks I’ve been kidding myself that there was a silver lining, that somehow Jason Storm had cheated my dad out of his company and I was going to get to the bottom of it and make things right. I think I always knew that that was wishful thinking on my part, but it’s what had kept me from giving in completely to the ennui that was constantly nipping at my heels. Seeing dad’s signature on those papers put paid to that and there was no more escaping reality.

I heard a car coming up the driveway and realized that I wouldn’t have noticed something as insignificant as that in the past. I was set to ignore whoever was out there but the persistent ringing of the bell changed my mind. For a minute there I was about to call down to the housekeeper to get the door but I remembered right quick that that was now my job.

“I’m coming.” I was in no mood for visitors and opened the door with a ready excuse. “Simone…” My friend brushed past me and entered the house in her usual brash way. I wouldn’t say she was the last person I expected to see, but friends have been so scarce these days I was a bit surprised that she was here.

“What’re you doing here?” I followed her into the foyer and up the stairs to my room with her leading the way like she lived here. Simone is my one and only brown friend; her words. She once gave me a lesson in why she and her people are not black but are different shades of brown and I never forgot it. Her dad is a gazillionaire who, even when my family was in the sauce, made us look like paupers. Well not exactly, but you know what I mean.

“What do you think I’m doing here? It’s been like two weeks since anyone has seen or heard from you.” She threw herself down on my bed and swung her Prada enclosed feet back and forth. “So, what’s going on? did you see that Storm guy?” For some reason she’s the only one of my friends that I’d told about that. Everyone else had learned about my family’s demise from the news media, and even they didn’t know the half of it. They knew we were broke, which is why I think my friends were so scared to hang around me these days. Like they thought the shit was catching.

“Yes I saw him.” I dropped down beside her and took what felt like my first breath of the day.

“And?” I didn’t pretend not to know what she was getting at, the whole world would know soon enough. But I wasn’t sure I was ready to utter those words, they seemed so final. Like once I said them there was no going back and I would have to face reality and all that entailed.

“And, dad really did sell the company, but there’s no money.” I felt the tears that I’d been able to keep at bay slip from the corners of my eyes. I’ve searched through everything and there’s no offshore accounts, no hidden nest egg anywhere that would pull us through. Dad’s suicide note had only said that he was sorry for disappointing us, but left no clue as to what we were supposed to do next.

I could find a job, but daughters of wealthy men don’t usually get degrees in anything useful. Especially not when they’re expecting to inherit a fortune five hundred company with a board of directors to see to the daily grind. I know how to run a charity social, how to throw a mean party and where to buy the best art. Maybe some day one of those things would come in handy but right now my mind was too muddled to think on it.