Page 33 of The Grizzly Situation
“Are you trying to buy our friendship? Do you think we care about you because of what you give us?”
“Well no, but?—”
“There are no buts here.” He handed me a roll of cash. “I returned the dirt bike and Benjy told the company that whoever paid off his car had done it mistakenly so that’s being returned to the account.” He put a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Being given something is so much different than earning it yourself. Benjy wants his car, but he needs to pay for it himself to feel as though he’s earned it. I love that dirt bike, but if I don’t get it, the world will not end. Just because you have money doesn’t mean you need to use it to buy friends.”
But I wasn’t. Was I? I mean, I would have done anything for Chaim and Benjy. Thanks to them, I had gotten bigger and even after my father forced us apart, I continued to lift at the gym so I had a spotter. Was it wrong of me to want to give them gifts? According to Chaim, it was dependent on my reasons for giving them. Did I do it so they’d love me more?
Was I trying to buy affection here? No, most certainly not. Every member of the sleuth worked their asses off. My father hoarded wealth. I spread it around. We took in far more money by sharing it than we ever did by being greedy. People got extra in their pocket and therefore spent more. They built houses. They opened their own businesses if they didn’t want to work for Ursine, and we supported those people as well. I’d heard of billionaires in the human world who—like my father—used their vast wealth to avoid paying taxes or to do insane things, but paid their own people a pittance. I never understood why.
“Mr. Lockhart?”
Once again I’d been caught zoning out. That was happening way too much lately.
“Look, you’ve been working hard for almost your entire life. You’ve done not only for me, but for everyone who needed a hand. You’ve given, even when you didn’t have much to give. This is a gift from me to you, because me and the boys? No, me and the sleuth? We all look at you as our family.”
And then came the tears. Big, gasping cries. Tom tried to console her, but he was crying too. It was then I realized the company needed to open a tissue factory. We’d rake it in, just based on the tears Tom and Sandy were shedding now.
“Come on, let me show you your home away from home.”
I took them inside and started the tour. Each feature they saw had them both bawling, hugging each other, hugging me, then asking multiple times if I was sure. Of course I was. When I broached the subject of a driver, Tom hesitated.
“You won’t be angry if I say no, will you?”
“Of course not.”
“Then I have to decline. This? What you’ve given us? It’s already too much.”
But it wasn’t. Our sleuth was worth five hundred thirteen billion dollars, one of the most prosperous companies in the world. Everyone assumed the money was mine, but I put it in trust for my people so if anything was to ever happen to me, they’d all be taken care of. Yes, we donated gobs of cash, but everywhere the money went was voted on by the sleuth. Every group we helped—Planned Parenthood, LGBT groups, funding studies in colleges across the country, and hundreds of other things? All of that was due to the goodwill of my people. It was the one thing I was most proud of. Humans bickered constantly about who deserved help. Us? We waded in, our sleeves rolled up, and got to work.
When we finished the tour, I directed them to the table. We nibbled, toasted with champagne, and shared stories of what it was like before I took over. It had been a completely different world under my father. The nicest thing I’d heard in forever was when Sandy wrapped her arms around my chest and whispered how much better life was now.
What I couldn’t find the words to tell her was that she, Tom, Chaim, Benjy, and so many other people molded me into the man—the leader—I was today.
And honestly, I loved it.
ULY
I closed the suitcase,making sure it was latched tight. On the few previous trips I’d taken—like Thanksgiving at Aunt Jackie’s place—I’d had a few mishaps with luggage that wasn’t properly secured. Most of the people around me roared with laughter. A few were kind enough to help me collect everything I’d let fly. They were sympathetic, a few telling me they’d done it themselves. Didn’t stop me from wanting to crawl into a hole and pull the dirt back over me.
This year was different, though. I was more focused. I remembered what I needed to pack—even if I checked it every time I added something—kept my ticket easily accessible, had my itinerary. No, it wasn’t the year that was different, it was me. I hadn’t been taking the medication for long, but they’d caused a huge change in my life. I was sleeping on a schedule—almost—could watch a show without being distracted, hell, I even read a book all the way through. It was remarkable. It was freaking liberating.
About the only negative thing I noticed was I usually ended up taking an hour nap in the afternoon. Still, I didn’t wakeup groggy. Totally refreshed and ready to continue my day. I mentioned it to Dr. Ross and he said it was a normal side effect, but that we were still working on the proper dosage, so be patient. That had never been my strong suit, but I’d try my best.
When the bell rang, I jumped. Beyond Jamie and Deb, I didn’t really get visitors other than the occasional delivery—which I seldom remembered ordering—or someone ringing for entry into the building. I always declined those. It already was a crappy place to live, and letting in people I didn’t know was a sure way for someone to get robbed. I hurried to the panel by the door and pressed the button.
“Yes?”
“Cab to the airport for Uly?”
“Yes, thank you! I’m on my way down.”
I grabbed my suitcase and rushed out of my apartment, only stopping to lock the door. The cab was waiting at the curb. The driver offered to take my suitcase, but I’d packed pretty light. An extra pair of pants, a couple of shirts—one a white dress shirt and tie if I had to meet anyone and another T-shirt that I could wear tomorrow. My nerves were ratcheting up, thinking that this trip could affect my whole life in ways I hadn’t even considered. By this time next week, I could be moving to Singapore or some other exotic country where I didn’t know the language and would be the typical lost American tourist hoping someone would interject and save me.
No, I hadn’t been worried about that. Really.
When I got to the airport, I was directed to a gate by a man who’d met me upon entering. He smiled and held up a sign that said, ‘Ulysses McNamara’. I was confused as heck.
“I’m Uly,” I told him.
