At 6:31 on a gray Tuesday morning, my sister called to tell me our father was dead. Dad was sitting three feet away from me, buttering toast.<\/p>\n
For several seconds, I said nothing. I watched the knife scrape across the browned surface, watched a crumb catch against the edge of his plate, watched steam drift from the coffee mug beside his elbow. My father, Edward Cole, looked irritatingly, undeniably alive.<\/p>\n
\u201cNatalie?\u201d Vanessa said. Her voice came thin and breathless through the phone. \u201cDid you hear me?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad glanced up. His eyebrows lifted at the expression on my face. I held up one finger, asking him to wait, although I had no idea what I was asking him to wait for.<\/p>\n
\u201cI heard you,\u201d I said. \u201cSay it again.\u201d<\/p>\n
Vanessa inhaled sharply. \u201cDad died last night.\u201d<\/p>\n
Across the table, Dad stopped chewing.<\/p>\n
The kitchen suddenly seemed too small for the sentence. Rain ticked against the window above the sink. The refrigerator hummed. Somewhere inside the wall, an old pipe gave its familiar morning knock. Dad lowered his toast and stared at my phone.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
Vanessa hesitated just long enough for me to notice. \u201cIn his sleep. Grant found out early this morning. It must have happened sometime during the night.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad mouthed, Grant?<\/p>\n
I shook my head.<\/p>\n
My brother-in-law had never been the person I expected to discover anything about Dad. Grant visited when Vanessa insisted, complained about the drive, and spent most family dinners checking his phone. Yet Vanessa was telling me that somehow he knew our father had died before I did.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere are you?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cAt Dad\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n
That made Dad sit straighter.<\/p>\n
I had arrived at his house the previous evening after driving four hours from my apartment. Dad had asked me to come because he wanted help sorting boxes that had been sitting untouched since Mom died. We had stayed up too late talking, and rather than drive home, I had slept in my old bedroom.<\/p>\n
Vanessa knew none of that.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy are you there?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
Another pause.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe came as soon as we heard.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFrom whom?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho told you Dad died?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad placed his toast carefully on his plate.<\/p>\n
Vanessa\u2019s breathing changed. \u201cNatalie, I really don\u2019t think this is the moment to interrogate me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI asked one question.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd I\u2019m trying to tell you our father is dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad leaned toward the phone. I covered the microphone before he could speak.<\/p>\n
His eyes narrowed.<\/p>\n
I whispered, \u201cNot yet.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked offended by the instruction, but he leaned back.<\/p>\n
Vanessa continued. \u201cThere are things we have to handle immediately. Grant and I have already started going through the paperwork.\u201d<\/p>\n
The grief I should have been feeling never arrived. Something colder took its place.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat paperwork?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe estate. The house. His accounts. Everything.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad\u2019s face changed.<\/p>\n
It was subtle. Anyone who didn\u2019t know him might have missed it. His shoulders stayed relaxed and his mouth stayed closed, but his fingers stopped moving around the coffee mug.<\/p>\n
Vanessa lowered her voice. \u201cI know this is going to hurt, Natalie, so I want you to hear it from me before you hear it from somebody else.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad and I looked at each other.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s a will.\u201d<\/p>\n
I almost laughed. Of course there was a will. Dad had been meticulous about paperwork for as long as I could remember. He saved receipts for appliances he no longer owned and labeled extension cords by length.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat about it?\u201d<\/p>\n
Vanessa exhaled. \u201cDad left the house to me and Grant.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad blinked once.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe truck too,\u201d she added. \u201cAnd most of the accounts.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad slowly put his coffee down.<\/p>\n
I pressed the phone tighter against my ear. \u201cMost?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere are some smaller things that still have to be sorted out.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did he leave me?\u201d<\/p>\n
This time Vanessa answered quickly.<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad\u2019s chair creaked beneath him.<\/p>\n
I stared at him.<\/p>\n
He stared back.<\/p>\n
Vanessa rushed on. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. I know you probably expected something, but apparently Dad changed things. Grant found the papers in his office. They\u2019re clear.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad silently pointed toward the hallway leading to his office.<\/p>\n
I shook my head again.<\/p>\n
\u201cClear how?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour name is specifically mentioned.\u201d<\/p>\n
My stomach tightened despite the absurdity of the conversation. \u201cWhat does it say?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat you aren\u2019t to receive any portion of the estate.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad\u2019s expression hardened.<\/p>\n
Vanessa continued with the confidence of someone who had rehearsed the sentence. \u201cIt also says the house and its contents pass to us. So I need you to understand something before you come here.\u201d<\/p>\n
Before I come here.<\/p>\n
I looked around Dad\u2019s kitchen.<\/p>\n
The chipped blue sugar bowl Mom had bought at a flea market sat beside me. Dad\u2019s muddy boots were near the back door. My overnight bag was upstairs. His jacket hung from the chair behind him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do I need to understand?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can\u2019t just show up and start taking things.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad\u2019s mouth opened.<\/p>\n
I raised my hand again.<\/p>\n
Vanessa said, \u201cI know there are things from childhood you\u2019ll want. Pictures, Mom\u2019s dishes, maybe some jewelry. We can discuss those later. But legally, everything in the house belongs to us now.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad stood.<\/p>\n
His chair legs scraped across the floor.<\/p>\n
\u201cSit down,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n
His expression suggested that at seventy-four years old he did not appreciate being ordered around by his youngest daughter in his own kitchen while someone else declared him dead.<\/p>\n
Vanessa heard the noise.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHome.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was not exactly a lie. Dad\u2019s house had been home long before my apartment was.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen stay there for now,\u201d she said. \u201cGrant and I need time to secure everything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSecure it from whom?\u201d<\/p>\n
She went quiet.<\/p>\n
\u201cFrom me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat isn\u2019t what I said.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt sounded remarkably close.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNatalie, please don\u2019t turn this into one of those things where you assume I\u2019m attacking you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad gave me a look that almost made me smile.<\/p>\n
Vanessa had been using that sentence since we were teenagers.<\/p>\n
She could take my sweater without asking, dent my car, invite friends into my bedroom, and somehow my objection became evidence that I was creating drama.<\/p>\n
I looked at Dad. He was no longer amused.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened last night?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI already told you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. You told me Dad died in his sleep. Who found him?\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence.<\/p>\n
\u201cVanessa?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGrant spoke to someone.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know every detail yet.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re standing in Dad\u2019s house telling me you own his truck, but you don\u2019t know who found his body?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad\u2019s jaw tightened.<\/p>\n
Vanessa snapped, \u201cI am trying to deal with a nightmare.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo am I.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, Natalie. You\u2019re four hours away. I\u2019m here.\u201d<\/p>\n
There it was.<\/p>\n
The old division.<\/p>\n
Vanessa stayed nearby; therefore Vanessa cared more. Vanessa attended neighborhood cookouts and brought casseroles and stopped by on Sundays. I had moved away for work twelve years earlier, and every disagreement eventually returned to those miles.<\/p>\n
Dad looked toward the window.<\/p>\n
I knew that look too.<\/p>\n
He was hurt.<\/p>\n
Not because Vanessa believed I had abandoned him. Because somewhere along the way, he had apparently realized she had been using her proximity as leverage.<\/p>\n
Vanessa sighed. \u201cLook, I shouldn\u2019t have mentioned the estate yet.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cProbably not.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut since I did, I need you to promise you won\u2019t come here until we have everything organized.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad reached across the table.<\/p>\n
This time I didn\u2019t stop him.<\/p>\n
He held out his hand for the phone.<\/p>\n
I gave it to him.<\/p>\n
He looked at the screen, then at me.<\/p>\n
I switched the call to speaker.<\/p>\n
Vanessa was still talking. \u201cAnd please don\u2019t call Dad\u2019s neighbors. We don\u2019t need people wandering over here before we know what\u2019s happening.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad leaned toward the phone.<\/p>\n
\u201cVanessa.\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence swallowed the room.<\/p>\n
For a moment, even the rain seemed quieter.<\/p>\n
Then my sister whispered, \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad folded his hands on the table.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou said I died in my sleep?\u201d<\/p>\n
Nothing.<\/p>\n
\u201cVanessa?\u201d<\/p>\n
A small sound came through the speaker.<\/p>\n
Dad\u2019s eyes hardened.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m asking because I\u2019d like to know how I died before you start giving away my belongings.\u201d<\/p>\n
The call remained connected.<\/p>\n
Vanessa did not answer.<\/p>\n
Then another voice appeared faintly in the background.<\/p>\n
Grant.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n
Vanessa whispered something I couldn\u2019t hear.<\/p>\n
Grant came closer.<\/p>\n
Then his voice reached us clearly.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho is that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad picked up his coffee.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s the dead man.\u201d<\/p>\n
At 6:31 on a gray Tuesday morning, my sister called to tell me our father was dead. Dad was sitting three feet away from me, buttering toast. For several seconds, … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":29973,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-29974","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-insightdrama"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29974","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=29974"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29974\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":30025,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29974\/revisions\/30025"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/29973"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=29974"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=29974"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=29974"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}