What Money Could Buy

In the year 1983 in the month of Christmas, the earth is stifled by the running bodies inhabiting the city of Moreton. Going heads of the crowded city move in unison as the industrial corporate buildings stay put and towering over them. A tenant of one of the towering buildings is me, 23-year-old Rebecca Norrys gloomily watching the uncoordinated city contributing its part to the economy. I have already contributed my part as I sit watching the city with completed task and 200 forwarded files and emails. I then shift my posture to then keep a stern eye on the clock as the minute hand goes by and time gets closer to the end of my shift. My antisocial like aura feels the office floor almost instantly and fifteen minutes starts to feel like dreadful hours.

“tik-tik” goes the clock.

“Clickety- click” goes the keyboards of my coworkers impatiently trying to catch up to my completion status. Ten minutes now remain and the energy, sound of the clock and typing gets stifled by the footsteps of one of the twelve people that make executive decisions throughout the building. It’s my boss, and she enters with strutting thin legs and healthy blonde hair passing her bright green shoulder pads only adding to her intimidating nature. I stand attempting to look professional with my thin pale legs hovered over by a black skirt and my white blazer unaccompanied by my short brown hair waiting to be addressed.

“Oh, hey…um… Angela!” I utter.

Stopping in her place and looking disgusted, “It’s Kayce.”

She responds. Trying to reclaim my somewhat professionalism,

“Nice weather we’re having isn’t it Kayce?”

Kayce eyes drop to my feet then back to my face, “Rebecca isn’t it; you seem to have just completed your work in just the nick of time, haven’t you?”

Even though I took pride in finishing my work before the end of my shift, I took no time to agree, “Oh yeah, you know me.” I reply followed by an awkward laugh. I knew standing this close to Kayce I was standing near a much superior version of myself. This was my first actual one on one conversation with my boss since I started this job. I justifiably sought out approval from such figures as herself. I wanted her to notice me not only in the office, but I wanted approval outside of work as well. It must have been my neglect from my mother or something related. I really did just want Kayce to recognize that I could be a useful and delightful acquaintance.

“Well Kaycee, I did notice that it was the perfect weather for a cup of tea maybe, or a playdate with our children.” I questionably state. The minute hand on the clock reaches the hour and Kaycee words follow,

“Look at the time, it’s time to shut the office room down now.”

I look at the clock with full attendance realizing my daughter’s school dismissed them early all this week. Urgently packing my things, from the corner of my eye I spot Kaycee eagerly walking to the water dispenser cubicles away from me.

“I just came this way for a cup.” She mentions to the IT worker as she passes his office room door. Again, trying to redeem myself, I hurry to the stairs in my casual flat business shoes. Reaching the last few steps, I take risk of more embarrassment springing myself over the steps. Success, “If only Kaycee could see me know.” My thought of satisfaction was suppressed with a sound of sudden frustration. “Uggggghhhh!” I cried. “I hate myself.”

The sun and heated leather parts of my seat did its daily after work greeting as I start the engine to pick up Iris, my daughter. Once the tires met the pavement of the road, I’m also greeted by a green Honda Accord like mine pulling in before me. It’s Jeff, from the third floor of my job. He was the only person I attempted to avoid when getting to and off from work. HE, DROVE, LIKE, A SLOTH. On top of that we both were introduced to six-ish o’clock traffic. Looked as if my daughter was going to have to wait with that one teacher again. As the second lane opened, I then freed myself from the motorist trap of the one they call Jeff. I look to my left only to see him smiling so contently as if he didn’t understand the hell, he was dragging me through each time I stumbled upon his slightly more maintained Accord. I without hesitation form my hand to flick him off. Jeff not noticing and mistaking my frustration as a greeting, turned his head toward me. I quickly drop my hand. With his window up he smiles with his generic commercial like white teeth silently waving at me. Boy, how much I hated Jeff. Once I reached Iris’s school, the sun had already set, and I immediately spot Iris and her teacher standing as the only ones at the bus loop. As the car came to a complete stop, Miss “Teacher” escorted my daughter to car holding her hand, looking straight into my car. I try not to look Miss “Teacher” in the face. Iris opens the car door with a somewhat gloomy like expression, gripping a black notebook I never noticed before. I look at her through the rear-view as she quickly props in the seat, letting her teacher close the door then fastening her seat belt preparing to open the black notebook. She opens the book that Miss “Teacher” probably gave to her and the dead silence in the car suddenly changes.

“Look at what Miss Rebekah gave me mom.” Iris said energetically. That was it. Miss “After School Staff Lady” had the exact name as me. Her parents even had the nerve to spell her name with the wrong letters.

“I drew a few pictures in it that I would like for you to -” I drove off punctuating Iris’s sentence,

“Show me once we make it home Iris, your mother has had a long day.” It was an excuse I had given her once before, but Iris seemed more disappointed in the fact I just drove off from her early holiday Santa.

Iris’s face was pressed against the window watching her teacher angrily starring as we drove away. Miss “Rebekah” was one of those teachers whose sole purpose was to make my bad days worse. She probably wanted to walk to the window of my car and lecture me about the constant late pick-ups again, well not this time. I then press the gas accelerating the car.

Iris’s face then returned to its gloomy state.

“Okay, mom.” She murmured.

Upon reaching our home, I unlatched the rusty hook of the mailbox. Grabbing the mail, I could hear Iris’s sleep related groan in the back of the car. Viewing the mail, I received the usual including things like coupons, bills, and promotional flyers; but there was well dressed envelope that was on the wrong side that I believed to possibly be a gift from my parents. I flipped the envelope over; through reading the title, my troubles of today were at its limits, it was the will of my father.

It read Will and Testament of Mr. Norrys. I turned my head back to Iris just to make sure she didn’t read the same envelope that brought instant despair to my face, she was still sound asleep. A single tear finds its way down my face and on the envelope. My father was the only person I would go to during a time like this. I was his only child and I would look for him to cheer me up on the phone when a holiday would begin to start with such dread. I grabbed all the mail shutting off the car, leaving my work bag in the passenger seat preparing to grab Iris and her notebook. I guess she must’ve heard me upon opening her side of the car because her eyes began to open. Needing comfort, I grab her anyway and began to walk to the house. I take Iris to her room setting her down so she could decide whether to stay awake or go back to sleep. Regardless, I left her room walking to the living room stumbling to the floor with tears. After a few hours of wallowing in my misery, I then open the envelope and began to read the letter with eyes freshly damped. After reading my fathers will I remained on the floor stunned knowing that my father had passed from cancer. It was something he never even decided to tell me all these years. The will then goes on to state that he wanted me, his only child to have possession of 20,000 dollars as well as full ownership of his property in Colorado. It was a weird experience as I stayed put placed on the living room carpet. My father was an all-around hard-working man, but it never occurred to me that he would have even 2,000 dollars to his name. And yet, here he is in the with property and twenty grand to pass on to me. A day of suffering started to fade in my newfound excitement. My father left me, little Becky Norrys, an early Christmas gift. Me with twenty thousand dollars seemed uncanny. I was a nobody, a boring typical middle-class working female of the big city, soon to be a force to be reconciled with in the city of Moreton. “If only Kaycee could see me know.” (Well, without the tear and dried up snot of course).