Kimber (5 page)

As
I walk through the office entrance, the waiting room is empty. A young blond
woman sits behind a tall desk with small fake plants on either side.

As
I approach, I tell the blond woman, “I’m here to see Mr. Blake.”

“Your
name, please.”

“Kimber
Knowl.”

“One
moment.” She smiles as she picks up the phone informing Mr. Blake of my
arrival. “Ok. This way please.” Rising from behind her desk, she leads me down
a long hallway toward two large wooden doors. She pushes the right one open and
holds her hand out motioning for me to enter.

Mr.
Blake’s office is set up to appear more as a large living room rather than an
office. It’s furnished with a large beige couch with a matching loveseat, law
books stacked neatly in bookcases, several diplomas hanging on the white walls,
and a large bay window framed with long and plush creamy peach drapes. The
comfortable warm feeling provided by the office atmosphere does not make the
business taking place any less difficult.

 Behind
a mahogany desk stands Mr. Blake waiting to greet me. He is short for a man and
a little on the heavy side. His face is pudgy, his nose is stumpy and pig like.
His green eyes are large and slightly too big for his face. He appears to be in
his late fifties and missing the majority of his hair on the top of his head.

“Kimber,
I’m very sorry for your loss. I wish we weren’t meeting so soon.” He says in a
raspy broken voice. The kind of voice you immediately associate with too many
years spent smoking cigarettes or perhaps cigars in his case.

Forcing
a smile, I shake his hand. Mr. Blake gestures for me to take a seat in one of
his brown leather chairs. I do.

Mr.
Blake wastes no time in getting to the point of our meeting. “There’s quite a
lot to go over. Such as stocks, bonds, CD’s, an IRA,  things like that. I took
the liberty of printing out the different percentages of the inheritance. It’ll
be divided as your mother wished. These numbers are final unless you decide to
sell the house.”

 “Why
would I sell my home?”

“I’m
not suggesting you do. Your mother planned for every scenario. In this circumstance,
she thought perhaps you’d downsize to something smaller and more comfortable, affordable.
She had it appraised last year. With the prime location and condition the home
is in, along with the neighborhood, it was valued at three hundred and fifty
four thousand.”

 “What?”
I ask utterly dumbfounded. I was never good at numbers. My low C average in
Algebra spoke for itself. Even though I know how large the number is, I can’t
picture it in my mind.

“It
could be more. I’m not sure. The real estate market is always fluctuating.” Mr.
Blake continues while I try to keep up with him. He talks about percentages,
accounts, and a million other things while pointing at the sheets of paper that
sit in front of me. I have no idea what any of it means. Although I act as if I
do, shaking my head and adding in an “
ok”
and “
ah ha”
every other
word. It’s not until the end that he really catches my attention. “All in all
you stand to inherit all of your mother’s personal belongings and two point six
million dollars. This includes any residuals from the Defense Attorney’s
office.”

 I
swallow hard. That
cannot
be right.

“I’m
sorry; did you say two point six million? How is that possible?” 

Mr.
Blake smiles widely. His teeth are straight but tarnished. “Your mother had a
very well known reputation. Marie was a heavy hitter. When you are at the top
of your game, they pay big. I know it’s a lot of money for an eighteen year old
but as thorough as your mother was, the money should last quite a while. Now, I’ve
made sure to dot every I and cross every T so if you would just sign, date and
initial where the tabs are I can put all this in motion and have it settled
within a week or two.”

Mr.
Blake passes the official papers to me. Thankfully, my mother taught me a thing
or two when it came to signing my name on anything legally binding.
“No
matter who or what it is Kimber
always
read every line before you sign
your name
.” I heed my mother’s advice. Mr. Blake waits impatiently,
shifting in his seat and shuffling through papers on his desk. When I am
satisfied everything is in place, although I don’t really understand all the
legal mumbo jumbo, I sign my name next to my mothers on all the X’s marked with
tabs. As I slid the papers back over to Mr. Blake, he pulls an envelope from
his desk drawer.

“She
left this for you so you’d have some money for the next few days while the
paper work is processed.”

 I
take the enveloped card from Mr. Blake and unfold the check inside. It’s blank.
Attached to the right corner is a small post-it that reads, “Use wisely, no
shoes. Love ya kiddo.”

My
throat tightens as tears form in my eyes. I stare at the words in my mother’s
handwriting. I close my eyes and clear my throat hoping the tightness will
loosen as I try to speak. “Thank you.” I stand and hurry from the office to my
car.

              I LAY IN
my bed later that night. I can’t get what Mr. Blake said out of my head. Two
point six million. All the number does is remind me of the hours and cases
taken on by her that accumulated that much money. All those minutes and hours
that added up to years is what that money has already cost me. I know my mother
had a plan for me, I just wish I could see it.

As
the dream starts taking shape in my mind, it feels too vivid. Almost as though
I’m not asleep at all. I stand alone in an unfamiliar place that I cannot make
out. I think I stand in a room but it’s too distorted and blurred maybe by my
own vision. I pick one area to focus on but nothing, no matter how hard I try,
will appear clear. I feel like clouds have formed in my eyes.

As
I stand there, I’m overcome with a strange sensation. As if someone’s energy
pulsates against my back. At first I feel the urge to be frightened, though I
do not feel threatened. I turn slowly seeing in the distance what looks to be a
tall man walking towards me. There is something about him I cannot place but I
feel safe knowing he is here.

As
he approaches, I stay very still. Once he reaches me, we stand facing one
another. I realize that my eyes are not the reason for the fogginess. It’s him.
Everything about and around him is a blurred, like I’m looking through a
plastic bag. I try so hard to make out the form of his face. Not one detail is
clear. Strangely, I find myself drawn to him. My heart flutters as he reaches
his hand out toward me. I try to take it but without warning, he starts to pull
away. I continue to reach for him as he threatens to leave. It’s no use. Within
seconds he fades away into nothing.

As
I wake in the morning, the dream is fresh on my mind. Had it not seemed so
strange I would be convinced it actually happened. The more I think of it the
less sense it makes.

 I
head down stairs, turn the stereo on, select disc one track one, and dance
around the house to Paramore while conquering my list of morning chorus. All
the while, I cannot rid myself of this lingering feeling. I keep thinking I’m
forgetting something. I shake it off and sing as loud as the speakers do.

With
the house clean and no lost items found, I make a cup of hot tea and step out
front for some fresh air. I sit on the white wood painted porch swing and
lightly sway back and forth. As I sip my tea, I smile with a feeling of
lightness. Like my spirit is not afraid to show its own little smile. It’s
amazing what good music and dancing like a fool will do.

 In
the yard next to me, Mrs. Johnson, a woman in her forties, waves cordially to
me as Muffy, her chocolate toy puddle, piddles by the mailbox. I return the
kind jester.

Across
the street, Mr. Woods, known for being a senile man with serious anger issues,
pushes a bucket with wheels around his lawn. I assume it’s fertilizer of some
sort. I assume because the lawn is literally his pride and joy. If you did not
know this little fact, well, there are at least four different signs in the
yard all saying the same thing, to stay the heck off it.

 If
breeding poodles is Mrs. Johnson’s forte and Mr. Wood’s is grass, I wonder what
mine would be. Oddly, I cannot think of one thing I have ever excelled at,
unless being an intern counts. I’m in mid thought when unexpectedly Luke’s car
pulls into the driveway.

     
“Braving the outdoors today?” He says smiling as he walks up the sidewalk.

It
is the kind of smile certain guys can do so perfectly. I remember that same loaded
smile the first time I met him in eighth grade. It is as inviting to me now as
it was back then. In fact, that same smile attracted me to Luke a few years
back.

I
came to know Luke through Tommy, more of an off again than on again
ex-boyfriend to my good friend Tiffany. Our personalities meshed right away and
the rest is history. Even with my slight attraction to Luke, whatever
opportunity there was for us to explore a possible relationship had gone
unseen. Now Luke is one of my closest and most trusted friends.

“I’m
people watchin’.”

“How
exciting!” He jokes before sitting beside me.

“If
everyone has a forte, what do you think ours is?” 

Luke
takes a minute to think. “I don’t think we have one. I mean it’s still early in
the game. It takes time to master a craft. It’s not like over night or anythin’.
Why?”

“I
don’t know, stupid question.” I smile sheepishly. “So what brings ya to my neck
of the woods?”

“I’ve
come to rescue you fair maiden and take you to thy Pier.” Luke laughs not sure
himself of what he has just said. I smile back and accept Luke’s invitation to
the Pier. After a quick change, we head out.

            It’s
unbelievably refreshing to be in Luke’s car and out from the cold, lonely and
restricting walls of my house. Through the car window Florida’s warm sun shines
upon my face, the wind frolics through my hair. The closer to the Pier we get
the more pronounced the salty ocean air becomes.

            When we
arrive at the Pier in downtown St. Pete, we head right for the viewing deck on
the top floor. The scenic view of Saint Petersburg surrounded by miles and
miles of ocean is beautiful. The twin peaks of the Skyway Bridge stand visible
in the distance. I look out over the edge of the deck trying to take in the
view of the vast open ocean. I have been to the Pier a dozen times before but
the way the sun sparkles and dances off the top of small waves never gets old. I
cannot help but feel small in comparison to the miles of open water before me.

 “Want
a closer look?” Luke asks pointing to the viewfinder as he slips a quarter in.

 “I
think it’s broken.” I say trying to focus the lens but it’s no use.

“Figures.”
Luke says annoyed. “Come on; let’s get some ice cream.”

“Yum!”
I exclaim.

 Ten
minutes later, I find myself in a red plastic booth eating birthday cake
flavored ice cream. It tastes like a scoop of Heaven. It is so good that I have
to restrain myself from licking the bowl clean.

“Geez,
you killed that.” Luke laughs.

“Don’t
come between me and my ice cream.” I smile.

Luke
smirks while putting his spoon down. “Listen, there’s somethin’ I was hopin’ to
talk to you about.”

“Ok,
shoot.”

“I
know a lot of people think of me as some playboy or bad guy when it comes to
datin’.”

“Like
who.” I ask spooning the corner of my bowl for ice cream residue.

“Just
people, you know ‘cause I dated a lot in high school.”

“I
don’t know who told you that but trust me, girls didn’t care who you were
dating as long as they were next in line.”

“Careful,
my ego has a mind of its own.” Luke quips.

“I’m
serious.” I laugh. “Some girl even threatened me in the bathroom one time
‘cause she thought we were dating.”

“Why
didn’t we?” He smiles coyly as I look up at him.

I
set my depleted bowl down gently. “I think we became too good of friends.” I
feel the heat in my flushed face.

“What
if I don’t want to be friends? What if I want somethin’ stronger, somethin’
different?” 

As
I sit across the table from Luke, a visible change occurs. Every boyish quality
about him matures before me leaving a handsome man with soft eyes and a
seductive smile sitting across from me. I blink twice trying to find the
familiar version of Luke but he isn’t’ there. 

 “Luke,
I…I value our friendship. I can’t take a risk with that.”

“Just
hear me out. This friendship is just as important to me. But look at me and
tell me you haven’t felt the attraction, the pull. I care for you in more than
a friend type of way. We get each other. We click. And I know you got a lot on
your plate right now but you don’t have to be alone. I’m not sayin’ I want to
fill any gaps or anythin’ but I want be someone special in your life.”