Cigars for Sawyer
Originally included in
The Memory Eater Anthology
By Justin Swapp
~~~
Copyright © 2012 Justin Swapp. All rights are reserved.
Books written by Justin Swapp can be obtained either through the author’s official website:
www.justinswapp.com
or through select, online book retailers.
Illustration by Chase Dryden
https://cerpin23.deviantart.com
Cigars for Sawyer
_______________________
I stood alone a long moment in my uncle's majestic hallway, hand hovering over the ornate knob to his study door. Just as I was thinking how old fashioned he had been, my watch vibrated and mother's avatar appeared on the display. With the touch of a button I ignored her. This was the entrance to my uncle's favorite place in the world, quiet and inspiring. I wasn't going to let my mother spoil his memory.
I hadn't been the same since he left us. As if I didn't know, the doctor informed me of a widely accepted practice for removing memories. It would help me cope, he had said, but I knew mother wouldn't stand for an unnatural remedy, especially that one. We played the hand that we were dealt, she always said. I turned the knob.
“You’re late,” an old man said as I entered the large room I had been in so many times. He was the only person there that I didn’t know, and he sat on my uncle’s favorite leather chair, behind the executive desk.
“Do you blame me?” I said, probably revealing too much of my ire. “I’m in no hurry to do this.”
“Come now, Ben,” the man said as he checked off something on a list. “It is Ben, isn't it?" I nodded. "Why don’t you sit down?” He motioned to the only free seat among several rows of chairs that had been set up in the room. “My name is Archer Singleton, and I will be conducting this meeting.”
With a nod, I sat down between my cousins Jared and Scott on the front row. They actually seemed excited to be there. It had been years since I had seen them. They were there with their families, of course. Too bad it took this to get everyone together.
“What do you think you’ll get?” Jared asked across me before I could greet them properly. The murmur in the room picked up.
“The plane, I hope,” Scott said picking a piece of lint off his sweater. “I’m pretty confident. He knew I was working on my pilot's license.”
Mr. Singleton cleared his throat. “Your attention, please." The noise level gradually settled down. "As you all know, we are gathered here today to settle the estate of one Mr. Charles Xavier.”
“He went by Chuck,” I said irritably.
Someone shushed me from behind.
“Let’s begin then, shall we?" Mr. Singleton said giving me a quick, sideward glance.
“Here we go,” Jared whispered, crossing his fingers. He started bouncing his leg.
“To my dearest Jacqueline,” Mr. Singleton read, “It’s time to put the top down, and feel the wind in your face again. Enjoy.” Mr. Singleton held up the keys to Chuck’s 2020 Lexus Hindsight, a classic racing machine. “Sign here, please,” Mr. Singleton said holding up an old Mont Blanc pen he pulled out of a drawer.
My aunt hustled up to the desk, her high heels clicking every step of the way. "Where?" she said, examining the desk, only to come up looking confused. "Where's the hand scanner?"
"The instructions were to use pen and paper," Mr. Singleton said.
It took her a moment, but she finally signed the document. Swiping the keys out of Mr. Singleton's hand, she took a deep breath, straightened her shirt, and walked slowly back to her seat.
It went on like this for a while. The Segway went to Uncle Henry, the house to Grandma Elsie, and the timeshare to my second cousin Brad. I stopped paying attention after hearing a few relatives behind me whisper that the will had been tampered with. I just wanted to leave, and put this all behind me. Uncle Xavier did indeed give the plane to Scott, but with one stipulation. He had to finish college first, which upset Scott enough that he tried to work a trade for the timeshare.
“Thank you all for your time,” Mr. Singleton concluded.
I got up to leave, but couldn't help thinking how much I had loved this place once. Now, I wanted nothing more than to get as far away from it as possible. It hurt a little that uncle Chuck hadn't thought of me in his will, but I was mostly irritated with the family. The funeral had been enough to deal with. Everyone's pretense, and outward sorrow. Today made it clear, though. They had just been posturing. All they really cared about was what Chuck could give them.
“One moment,” Mr. Singleton said as he scanned the document again. “My apologies. It seems as though there has been a slight oversight.”
A murmur brushed across the attendees. Jacqueline quickly stuffed the keys she had just been waving around down the front of her blouse.
“I apologize,” Mr. Singleton started. “Apparently in my old age, my eyesight fails me.” He lifted a pair of glasses that hung around his neck, up over the bridge of his nose.
“It would seem that there is a hand-written addendum to the will,” he brought the page up to his face, “complete, of course, with Mr. Xavier’s initials.”
“What does it say?” Jared asked not even trying to hide his enthusiasm. He hadn’t received anything.
“To Ben Wright, the son I never had,” Mr. Singleton stopped a moment to swallow, “I give my collector's tobacco box, a token to remember me by.”
To remember him by? That hurt, I thought. How was I supposed to deal with his memory now? Erasing it was off the table. He wanted me to remember him. Could I dishonor a dying man's wish?
Mr. Singleton swiveled in the chair, and examined the library wall behind the desk. There were books, works of art, and various antiques on the shelves between the novels and other things.
“Ah, here we are.”
He removed a dark wooden box from under a few books. It was almost as if the box had been hidden. Chuck never did like to let people see him smoke. It embarrassed him.
“Just sign here,” Mr. Singleton said as I approached the desk. I signed apprehensively.
Why would he have given me a tobacco box? I didn't smoke, and the family suspected that this was what finally killed Uncle Chuck.
That was it. The group disbanded quickly, apparently now with no reason to stay. I waited behind as Mr. Singleton put the signed papers in his brown leather brief case, and then snapped it shut.