Will
A fictional short-short story
I was sure I had a reprieve. My forbearance had run out and the bank is ready to repossess. That atop all the other bills including medical expenses that somehow the insurer usually finds a reason to not pay.
You see, my mother had made me the secondary beneficiary in her will. I didn’t mind that I wasn’t primary — She made her dog primary but because it had advanced cancer, it wouldn’t be long. I assumed she did that for some tax reason but that was beyond me. All I had to do was take care of the cur — I hate dogs almost as much as I hate cats, and after the dog died, just take the dog’s death certificate, notarized, to the nearest office of the will mill that drew up her will.
The clerk said she had drafted a codicil to that will. It changed the secondary beneficiary from me to The Center for Responsible Government!
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Bye-bye house, bye-bye decent credit rating. I googled “Center for Responsible Government.” Nothing. I asked the business librarian at the central library what she could find. It turns out it’s a dark-money laundering operation to give big money, in violation of campaign laws, to its desired candidates in high-stakes elections.
I couldn’t afford a lawyer to help me, so I asked Legal Aid. He said that the will was airtight unless my mother was non-compos mentis. But she was super mentis—a respected professor until she got run over by a motorcyclist. The lawyer concluded — and didn’t use this language —I was fucked.
The bank foreclosed, my job hours got cut — I thought nonprofits were supposed to care about their workers — and I had to find somewhere to live. With no money?
I didn’t want to sleep in doorways but the only person who’d take me was my aunt, who has six cats.
I read this aloud on YouTube.
Marty Nemko is a career and personal coach, and author of 36 books including Secrets and A Dose of Reality. You can reach him at mnemko@gmail.com
