The visitor...
The tension was perceptible, even before the visitor arrived. Golden light reflected from the chandelier, forming shining spots on the walls. Mary studied the wallpaper, wondering if she should get rid of it or keep it. Oh, how she was looking forward to owning this beautiful apartment! Absorbed in dreams of house remodelling, she ruminated on the removal of assorted disgusting furniture from her brother-in-law's apartment. Her husband had discussed his dislike of his brother’s furniture, but she could sense that talking to him about it while they waited for the reading of the will could be a bad idea. She gazed longingly at the curtains that swayed gently in the breeze, revealing one of the the finest views in the city.
Her son, a morose boy, was sitting in one of the former apartment owner’s chairs. It was a beast of a chair, made of genuine leather, that almost swallowed the boy whole. You could barely see him. Emanating a sense of disaffected despair, he picked at his nails and glanced around the room. He had been practically silent since hearing of his uncle’s death, and Mary didn't really know how to talk to him about it. After all, she barely knew the fellow. He’d been a bit of a fool, in her estimate, and she’d never accompanied her husband when he went off to visit him.
Isaac had a long fringe that covered his right eye (Mary wished that he would cut his hair) and no discernible expression on his face. Across from him, in another of the comically huge chairs, was an impassive lady in black. Pursed lips, with hands tightly clutching her handbag, her large eyes stared directly at an ostentatious lamp, and seemed to indicate that she did not care for any of the people in this room. Her head was held high, and the slight tapping of her foot clearly stated her deep distaste for the entire room. From the décor to the visitors, there was nothing but disdain in her eyes.
Further away from the two silent family members in the chairs, a man was staring at a vase that his son had acquired a few years ago. Distasteful and opulent, like most of the trinkets in this abode. He was deeply tempted to knock it over, but that would not have been the decent thing to do. He sighed and rummaged in his jacket, hunting for a handkerchief. He made an annoyed glance at the garish chandelier swinging from the ceiling. Time was money, and this fool of a solicitor was taking his sweet time.
In the corner of the room was a woman with stringy hair and a disturbed stare. A cup of cold coffee trembled in her hand, and she stared intensely at a framed print. While the room was silent, the area around the woman was the quietest of all. No one even wanted her included in their silence. She shakily took tiny sips from her cup.
Miserably staring at cheap watercolours is not a habit many people take up. The brother of the deceased, however, had mastered the art and was currently staring at an amateur take on the view from this very room. He sighed and turned his thoughts toward the matter at hand. The will. That’s what the whole family – him, Mary, their son, his aunt, his father and of course, his sister – were all here. He ruminated on this unpleasant situation as he shook his head from side to side. He tapped his foot slightly and wished from the bottom of his heart that the lawyer would arrive soon. He couldn’t take any more of this awkward silence. At the beginning they’d all greeted each other, nice as could be, but when you run out of compliments and polite inquiries, silence typically descends. The plush carpet beneath his feet was a real treat, along with the delicate lamps arranged for the perfect amount of light. He’d gone to look at his brother’s mahogany writing desk, which was truly a work of art. Such a shame that the only things written on it were meticulous accounts of financial prosperity.
A clear, crisp knock at the door snapped the man out of his reminisces and brought him back to the here and now. The guests all stared at each other, daring the other to answer the door. Trembling, the woman with stringy hair got up and pulled the door open. It creaked slightly, disturbing the dust that had settled on the wooden floor. The visitor stood in the doorway, a sheepish expression on his face. He clutched an assortment of legal documents with a hand that only trembled ever so slightly. He gazed around at the gathered family members, as if assessing them for a test.
Mary noted his sharp suit and styled hair. She then deduced that this must be the lawyer. Her observation was immediately proven correct when the man settled himself down in a large chair and delicately placed a thick document on the desk in front of him. He smiled awkwardly and ran a hand through his hair. Mary noted with disapproval that his hair was doused in pomade. The lawyer shuffled his documents and politely asked that the family gather round the old table. The slightly disgruntled family obliged. Pulling chairs over to the table, armchairs were dragged and repositioned, which caused the antique carpets to fold in a most undignified manner. The arrangement took some time, and brief disputes over the various chairs available flared up. Eventually, when the room had quietened, the lawyer cleared his throat and began. He expounded at length the situation in which the death had occurred. A tragic death, a car accident at the tender age of forty-one! The assorted family members nodded their heads and sighed appropriately. They all knew this perfectly well and resented the visitor ever so slightly for running them through this tragic event once again.
The lawyer began the reading of the will, his eyes nervously darting from the will to the family. Mary tapped her foot, glancing around the room in the manner of an impatient customer. She sighed and turned her head this way and that. The nerves gave her the itch to move around. Her dark brown hair bounced as she tapped her foot, and she blinked more times than could possibly be necessary. Isaac slumped further down in his chair, refusing to look the interloper in the eye. He was usually an upbeat boy, albeit with a slight melodramatic streak. Of course, when one’s uncle dies, one is entitled to slight melodrama. He fiddled with his nails and sighed. His messy hair fell further down his face, and he stared up at the lawyer holding court. Mary straightened up when the lawyer began talk of who, in fact, would own the apartment. She was certain that this home would go to her. Not that she intended to live in it…But it would certainly be a useful asset for when her children ran off to university. If they did go off to university. It would be fine if they didn’t, of course, she’d support them no matter what, but…
Lost in her thoughts about the hypothetical futures of her children, Mary missed the crucial words spoken by the lawyer and so did not join the collective gasp issued by the family. However, she was still able to gather what had been said by the lawyer. This apartment, the treasure that they all coveted, was to go to his banker! Whispered mutterings abounded and were brought to a halt when the lawyer cleared his throat once again. Eyes flicked back and forth between the lawyer and the thick paper he gripped in his hands.
He politely explained that their dearly departed loved one had left his treasured apartment to his banker as a thanks for all the help and advice the kind man had given. In addition, the banker had rescued the poor man from bankruptcy! This did not soothe the enraged attendees one bit. Save for Isaac, who shrunk further down in his chair, the brittle words and flare-ups of tempers simply increased. Surely there must’ve been more to it, they insisted. Surely, he would not have deprived his beloved family of such an asset! The lawyer shook his head. He explained that while the apartment would not fall into their hands, plenty of treasures would remain in the family’s possession.
The trembling sister quietly muttered under her breath that she doubted that they’d be of any value, which the rest of the family determinedly ignored. The lawyer continued his reading, albeit with a nervous note in his voice. Papers shaking ever so slightly, he read out the charitable bequests. The dearly departed had been a prolific philanthropist, handing half his fortune away to assorted noble causes. This tradition, of course, continued after his death, with thousands being given to animal shelters, environmental charities, and other perfectly upstanding causes.
The seemingly endless number of donations that were dryly read out by the lawyer caused the level of impatience in the room to rise exponentially. Fingers tapped on tables, drawn-out sighs were expertly executed, and eyes were deeply tempted to roll. As he plodded through every detail in the document, the lawyer meticulously went over the precise ways in which the deceased’s fortune would disappear. The large sums read out caused a notable number of eye twitches. A few times, the father of the poor man looked positively green. Fists clenched and heads shook. The sunlight glittered on the ostentatious décor, projecting a sunny demeanour into the room that was soon shot down by the furious faces of the audience.
When the visitor finally got to the personal bequests, there was a tangible sense of relief. Audible exhales were released. He detailed the small gifts left to the children of the family and handed Isaac an elaborate mirror made with black glass. This made him smile faintly and he clutched the mirror close. As the lawyer continued to read the will, the family slowly came to the chilling realisation that their beloved relative had left them practically nothing. Trinkets were freely handed out, but all the expensive and valuable assets were given away to organisations, or simply not there at all. Apparently, despite the wealth their dearly departed possessed, he’d frittered it most of it away and simply did not have anything to give.
Dazed and confused, the attendees turned their bewildered gazes towards each other, as if to ensure that their fellow relatives had heard the same words. The resentment that had bottled up over the years towards the darling deceased finally released. Years of jealously, grudges carefully nursed every time he showed off his new artwork that joined the collection had built up and built up until it was impossible to contain. The fact that the target of their resentment was dead made expressing one’s resentment a lot easier. The air was filled with grief-stricken people airing every grievance they had with the dead man.
From the way that he dressed to an insult hurled at them at the last family reunion, every fault that the deceased possessed was dissected, piece by piece, by his beloved family. The visitor, the one who had caused this awkward situation, was forced to sit at the elaborate desk with a forced polite expression on his face. His fingers tapped slightly, and the dust of the room began to settle.
After a good ten minutes of the deceased’s sister (who the rest of the family no longer associated with) expounding on the reasons why her awful brother would be writing insurance claim denials in Hell, the lawyer cleared his throat and made an easy excuse. His dog was sick, something like that
He rose, collecting his documents as he extracted himself from the chair. The family stared at him as he donned his hat and nodded a goodbye. Silence filled the room, leaving a slightly stunned family and a considerably less stunned visitor. The room rang with the words that had just been screamed, as if in anticipation of another round of vicious epithets.
As he left through the intricately carved front door, he heard the argument flaring up again, heard people airing their well-aged irritations and personal attacks. He adjusted his hat and continued his confident stride down the avenue, humming all the while. This was how it always was at will readings.
Well, that’s how it was at the only one he’d attended. Very convenient of the good man to leave the will in the bank’s care. He had always liked him, especially after that bankruptcy matter. Thank God he’d learnt how to forge signatures. And thank goodness for his office’s shredder! Now, time to head to the estate office for his lovely new house. Being a banker was certainly an easier job than any of this law business!