It's a Lock

Word count 1725

It’s a Lock

By Bridgett Anderson

I dropped out of college in my last year. I was trying to get a business degree, but I was struggling. When my PawPaw needed my help, I was quick to head home. I didn’t know my dad and my mom died of an accidental overdose on heroin over 10 years ago. PawPaw was all the close family that I had left. He was getting sicker. I spent many months helping him with the toilet and feeding him meals. A month ago, he had to go into a long-term care place. I got the call this morning that he died. Old age, 60 years of smoking and drinking, one too many a fais-dodo. He had a great life.

I cannot process the void I feel inside of me. It feels like a physical pan. I sacrificed leaving school because he always sacrificed for me. He raised me after my mom died. He lived in a long-term care center and now the IRS is trying to seize all he had left, the farm and house where he and MaMa raised children. The same place I was raised. I received a call that I have until the end of the month to remove his personal things. I couldn’t take this stress. I rushed to the doctor today to tell my story; I felt like I was having a heart attack they gave me medication for anxiety and sent me on my way. They gave me 15 minutes to unload the story of my lifetime. Tomorrow I will try to start processing everything in my mind. Tomorrow I will go to the farm. Relive my memories. It is all I have left of him.

PawPaw was a stand-up guy, a very tough guy when he was young. He softened after my mom died, and after he truly realized he was a PawPaw. There was always mystery surrounding him and I never actually knew how he made a living. He lived on a farm in rural Louisiana and always made it work somehow. He used what he had available. He seemed to have money, but I wasn’t sure how since he only worked part-time as an auto part dealer. He always encouraged me to go to college, make a better life for myself.

I showed up there at 8 am and the vultures were already swarming. I am sentimental, I wanted the things that reminded me of him. The problem was that everything reminded me of him. I went to his old room. He loved cars so much. After MaMa died, he focused all his time on cars and working at the parts store, helping others with their cars. We already had to sell his baby, a ’56 Ford Thunderbird, to fund his long-term care. They really are vultures. They start picking at you, take what they can, wait for you to die.

I started through the clothing, the memorabilia, and the photos. I find an old cigar box. PawPaw loved his cigars. Maybe I will smoke one later in his memory. I can still smell him like he is sitting next to me. There are so many things to go through. I am so overwhelmed. I keep digging, keep packing, throwing things to keep or donate. I want to keep everything, even though they are not him. Nothing compares to a hug, a conversation, the tough love that he gave me. Even if he was a hard-ass most of the time.

I dug in the bedroom closet. There was a box way up in the closet, tucked away, that looked like an old box of brake pads. I opened the box and there is a black book in there. I think to myself it may be an old book with orders. He always had some side scrapping going on and hated the computer system at the parts store. Initials, amount of money, checkmarks. That was it. What did it mean? I guess he did have a great memory. Apparently, he didn’t even need to record the auto parts. I dove a bit deeper into the book. I see the initials, ML. That one stuck out to me because PawPaw’s best friend was Mel Lambert. I was planning a visit with old boy Mel soon because he wouldn’t be able to attend the funeral. He is living in a long-term care place up in Chalmette. I got kind of excited. I was thinking to myself about what car part Mel would have bought from PawPaw in the last few years and for that kind of money. From what I know, Mel doesn’t even own a car anymore.

I am going to drive up to see Mel tomorrow. It is an hour and a half from Baton Rouge to Chalmette. I will pass time listening to some of PawPaw’s music. It was always happy music, 50’s music. The music that reflected different times, before so many things changed in the world. Sometimes I wish I was alive in that time. It seemed less stressful or maybe men didn’t show their struggles as much back then. I feel like my struggles show on my face. Husbands and wives made it work out back then, for the family. They stayed with each other through abuse, cheating, money troubles, everything. PawPaw cheated on MaMa many times. Were people happy living like that or was there a sense of security they refused to give up? I am alone. I had a girlfriend back at school, but I cannot see myself marrying her. PawPaw said I should know when I meet the right one and the other ones I should “lay with them and not stay with them”. It seemed cruel, but I know that is what many girls have done to me. I am complicated. I do not have much to offer a woman. I do not even have money to finish school. I need sleep now. My mind is racing. I pour a glass of whiskey now. Hopefully, only one.

I woke up with a pounding headache. But I am eager to talk to Mel about the black book. I want to know what he bought from PawPaw for $4,000. Especially living in long-term care. Maybe it was for his grandson. I heard that he fixed up old mustangs. I hop in the car for the trip to Chalmette. Driving my piece of shit college car. It is an old Honda, but it hasn’t died on me yet. I could use some car parts right about now. PawPaw, why did you have to die?

I get to the center and Mel is excited to see me. Amazingly, he remembers me. His memory has been fading over the last year. I brought the black book and told him that I was intrigued when I saw his initials. He laughed and told me there was a lot I didn’t know about side hustles. PawPaw severely hurt his leg in an accident years ago and could not work the farm much anymore. I helped him with that, and he worked part-time in the small town near the farm. He limped around, made friends with his customers, sold some car parts here and there. He seemed content. Mel continued to share, and I continued to become increasingly intrigued with the parts of PawPaw’s life that I never knew.

Turns out, PawPaw was not just an auto parts guy; he was a bookie for sports betting. Mel told me that PawPaw used his network of customers to run the betting operation. He had to pay PawPaw because he was being generous with his bets and lost big. He didn’t care about money anymore. He said the IRS will take what he has anyway so he may as well have fun with it. Mel said that the others in the book either paid or owed PawPaw. He then said that he was tired, confused, and had to lie down and take his nap. I did not know what to make of all of this. I studied the book, tried to make out who any of the other initials belonged to but ran into a dead end.

Then I noticed a pattern in the book, starting with Mel’s initials. Some names had a checkmark by them. Mel said he paid his debts to PawPaw and that got me thinking, were the checkmarks showing that the money was already paid? If so, where was the money? PawPaw was living on social security when he died and did not have any real assets, except the farm. I didn’t have much time to clean out his things from the farmhouse. It was to be auctioned off soon. I rushed back to Baton Rouge.

I searched everywhere at the farmhouse. I went into his den. There were so many books. Anyone that knew him would say that he was a simple man, but he loved to read. Sitting in his den, smoking a cigar, reading books, and sipping on whiskey. I started packing up the books and got distracted. Football greats, baseball greats. That is when the discovery happened.

PawPaw was hiding small amounts of money in his books. The more I picked up, the more I found. A couple hundred here and there. I started to think back and remember that my PawPaw’s favorite football player was Walter Payton. He was still an avid sports fan, but he always compared them to his solid players from when he was a younger man. In my search, I found a book on the Chicago Bears and picked it up. Turned out it wasn’t a book at all, it was a book safe. I opened it up and that is where I found the money. I counted it eagerly. Turns out, a few buddies must have lost big, there was over $20,000 in there.

My whole life he always liked to send me on adventures. I can bet he knew that I would find the little black book and search for answers. As I embark on my next journey, I need to look for initials in the book without a check next to their initials.

For now, I can go back to college for a few more semesters. Not such a “bad beat” after all.