Part 1
He was sitting in a lawyer’s office in front of Ms. Rhode’s niece. Every few seconds, she looked at me like she was dirty glued to her shoe. The lawyer cleared his throat, opened a file and began reading with a monotonous and detached voice.
“The house on Willow Street will be bequeathed to the Charity of St. Matthew’s Scope.”
I blinked, perplexed.
What? “
He continued reading without looking at me.
“Your personal savings will be shared between St. The Church of Matthew and various charities. She is bequeathing her jewelry collection to her niece.”
I stood still, waiting for my shift. Mrs. Rhode had promised me everything. He had told me that if he took care of her during her last years, everything she possessed would be mine after her death. But the lawyer turned the last page, closed the file and searched.
“The reading is over.”
I looked at him.
“Is that all? But she promised me…”
The words dried up in my throat when a terrible thought went through my mind. Did Mrs. Roda lie to me? I stood up and left before I was seen crying. When I arrived at my small rented apartment, my chest hurt. I went in, closed the door and collapsed on the bed without taking off my boots. First, I felt anger. Then the humiliation.
Then came that familiar, old shame of realizing that I had been fooled by a story that everyone else had discovered before me. But deep down, there was something worse: distress. Because, at some point, I had started to believe that the lady cared so much. Rhode like she did to me.
I grew up in foster care, so maybe I should have known. My mother abandoned me when I was a baby, and my father spent my childhood in prison. I learned from the beginning that adults can make empty promises. I learned to pack quickly, keep my important belongings together and avoid crying in front of strangers.
“Click here to read the full story”.
