The next morning, I found Jordan at the kitchen table with his phone beside his coffee.
He looked up when I walked in.
“Morning, Gary.”
“Morning.”
I poured myself a cup and sat across from him.
For a few minutes, neither of us said much.
Then I remembered the conversation we had left unfinished.
“You said you would think about putting your financial proposal in writing.”
Jordan rubbed his thumb along the side of his coffee mug.
“I said I would think about it.”
“That’s right.”
He seemed to be waiting for me to soften the question.
I didn't.
“If there's something specific you want me to consider, I need to understand what it is.”
He glanced toward the hallway.
“Mom and I have talked about it.”
“I know.”
“We just think it would be smart to get things organized.”
“I agree with that.”
He looked surprised.
I continued before he could mistake my answer for permission to do whatever he wanted.
“Organizing important documents is one thing. Giving somebody access to my accounts is another.”
Jordan leaned back.
“You always assume the worst.”
“I asked you to explain the difference.”
“I'm trying to help.”
“Then help me understand.”
He picked up his phone, checked the screen, and put it down again.
I watched him do it.
When I was younger, I had negotiated with contractors who wanted payment before finishing a job.
Some were honest people who needed reassurance.
Others hoped I would stop asking questions.
I had learned not to confuse irritation with an answer.
Jordan finally spoke.
“What happens if something happens to you?”
“That's a fair question.”
“You could end up in the hospital. You could be unable to pay bills. Somebody would have to handle things.”
“That is why people make plans.”
“Exactly.”
“But a plan should say who can do what, under what circumstances, and for how long.”
He gave a short laugh.
“You make everything sound like a business contract.”
“I spent most of my life running a business.”
“That doesn't mean everything has to be so complicated.”
“No,” I said. “It means I know what happens when people agree to things they haven't read.”
He stopped smiling.
I wasn't trying to embarrass him.
I wanted him to recognize that I would not sign a document simply because he called it sensible.
“If you're worried about emergencies,” I said, “we can make a list of my doctors, insurance information, and the people who should be contacted. We can discuss where those records should be kept.”
“That doesn't solve everything.”
“What else needs solving?”
He hesitated.
“Access to the money.”
There it was again.
Not the medical information.
Not the paperwork.
The money.
“What access?” I asked.
“Just enough to take care of things.”
“Which things?”
“Bills. Expenses. Whatever needs to be handled.”
“Would I still control my accounts?”
“Of course.”
“Would you be able to transfer money?”
He didn't answer immediately.
That pause told me more than his earlier explanations had.
“I don't know how it would be set up,” he said.
“Then neither of us should agree to it yet.”
He looked at me as if I had deliberately misunderstood him.
I kept my voice even.
“I'm not refusing to plan for the future, Jordan. I'm refusing to give somebody authority over my finances before I understand the arrangement.”
He pushed his chair back slightly.
“You act like I'm trying to take something from you.”
“I haven't said that.”
“But that's what you think.”
“I think you have asked for financial access without explaining why you need it. I think you accused me of gambling without showing me evidence. And I think those two things deserve a serious conversation.”
His face tightened.
For a moment, I expected him to stand up and leave.
Instead, he stared into his coffee.
“I shouldn't have said you were gambling,” he muttered.
I waited.
“What?”
“I said I shouldn't have said it.”
“That isn't quite the same as telling me why you said it.”
He looked away.
“I heard things.”
“From whom?”
“I don't remember exactly.”
I let the silence sit between us.
He knew that wasn't a convincing answer.
I knew it too.
But I also knew that pressing him until he gave me a convenient explanation wouldn't make the explanation true.
“Think about it,” I said. “If you have something specific to tell me, tell me. If you don't, then we need to stop treating a rumor like a fact.”
Jordan picked up his phone again.
“I'll write something up,” he said.
“Take your time.”
He stood and carried his mug to the sink.
Before leaving the kitchen, he turned back.
“You really don't trust me, do you?”
I thought carefully before answering.
“Trust isn't something I can give you because you ask for it. It comes from what we do with each other.”
He said nothing.
I heard his footsteps move down the hall.
For the rest of the morning, I went about my business.
I paid a household bill.
I reviewed a letter from my financial adviser.
I checked the dates on a few documents that needed filing.
Nothing about my routine changed.
But I had noticed something important.
Whenever I asked Jordan to explain the purpose of his proposal, he returned to the same vague promises about helping me.
Whenever I asked what authority he wanted, he became offended.
I didn't know what that meant yet.
I only knew I needed to keep asking clear questions.
Click here to continue reading: PART 14: Pam Asked Me to Trust Her, but She Had Not Yet Decided What Trust Was Supposed to Mean
At Sixty-Nine, I Thought My Hardest Years Were Behind Me Until the People Closest to Me Began Asking Questions I Couldn’t Explain
Part 13 of 20
