My last conversation with him. The pocket watch. The letter.
The drum of my heartbeats chased away the silence as I stared at my mother’s familiar handwriting. She’d loved calligraphy and insisted I learn cursive, even though no one used it much anymore.
I used to sit next to her as she hand wrote thank-you cards and birthday greetings and get-well-soon wishes, tracing the loops and swirls on my own piece of paper.
Some people found her handwriting difficult to read, but I parsed it easily.
Dear Xavier,
I met you for the first time yesterday.
I’d imagined the moment many times, but no amount of imagination could’ve prepared me for holding you in my arms. For seeing you stare up at me, then falling asleep together because we’re both exhausted, and hearing you laugh as you grabbed my fingers on our way out of the hospital.
You’re only two days old at the time of this writing, so tiny I can almost fit you into the palm of my hand. Buta parent’s best gift is watching their child grow up, and I can’t wait for the journey ahead.
I can’t wait to see you off to your first day of school. I’ll probably (definitely) cry, but they’ll be happy tears because you’ll be starting a new chapter of your life.
I can’t wait to teach you how to swim and ride a bike, to give you advice about girls, and to see you fall in love for the first time.
I can’t wait to watch you discover your passions, whether it’s music, sports, business, or anything else you want to do. (Don’t tell your father, but I’m rooting for art.) However, I’ll be happy with anything you choose, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart. The world is big enough for all of our dreams.
There’s potential in each and every one of us, and I hope you fulfill yours to the point of happiness.
Your father says I’m getting ahead of myself because you’re so young, but by the time you read this, you’ll have turned twenty-one. Old enough to attend college, drive a car, and travel on your own. My heart hurts just thinking about it, not because I’m sad, but because I’m so excited for you to experience my favorite parts of the world and to find your own. (And if you can’t decide where to go, choose a spot close to the beach. Trust me. The water heals us in ways we can’t comprehend.)
I can’t say for certain what the future will hold, but at the risk of sounding like a cheesy motivational poster, know this: life ebbs and flows, and there’s always room for change. Humans have the capacity for growth until they leave this earth, so never feel like it’s too late for you to take another road if you’re unhappy with the one you’re traveling.
No matter which road you take, I’m proud of you. I hope you are too.
Be proud of the person you’ve become and the person you’ll grow into. Even though you’ve just arrived in the world, I know you’ll make it a better place.
You’re my greatest joy, and you always will be.
Love always,
Mom
P.S. I left you a special gift. The pocket watch has been handed down through generations in my family, and it’s time I passed it on to you. I hope you cherish it as much as I did.
Something dripped onto the paper, smudging the words. Tears. The first I’d shed since I arrived.
I retrieved the pocket watch from the drawer with a trembling hand and opened it. It was so old the numbers had faded, but the message engraved inside remained legible.
The greatest gift we have is time. Use it wisely.
“Xavier? Xavier!”
The present rushed back in a tidal wave of noise.
I blinked away the memories fogging my brain as Tía Lupe’s face came into focus. Not the first person I wanted to see under any circumstance.
“Well?” she demanded. “What do you have to say about this will? It’s utterly—”
“Tía? Shut the hell up.”
I thought I saw Sloane smirk out of the corner of my eye as Tía Lupe gasped. Eduardo made a strange noise that fell somewhere between a laugh and a cough.
I tuned out my aunt’s splutters and focused on Santos.
The echoes of my mother’s letter lived in my heart like a blade lodged between my ribs, but I couldn’t afford to dwell on the past right now.
The greatest gift we have is time. Use it wisely.
“Can you repeat the condition of the will in plain terms?” I asked calmly. I understood what it meant, but I wanted to be sure.
The room quieted as everyone waited for Santos’s response.
He met my gaze with an unflinching one of his own. “It means if you don’t assume the CEO position by your next birthday, you will lose every cent of your inheritance.”
A collective shudder swept through the library.
My family didn’t want me inheriting the billions because I didn’t “deserve it” (fair enough, though that was like the pot calling the kettle black), but they would rather die than see all that money flow outside the family.
“That’s what I thought.” My hand curled around the arm of my chair. “Who are the preselected committee members my father mentioned?”
“Ah, yes.” Santos adjusted his glasses and read from the will again. “The committee will consist of the following five members: Eduardo Aguilar…” Expected. “Martin Herrera…” Tía Lupe’s husband. Less expected, but he was the fairest and most levelheaded person in my family. “Mariana Acevedo…” Chairwoman of the Castillo Group’s board. “Dante Russo…” Wait. What the fuck? “And Sloane Kensington.”
Pin-drop silence followed his proclamation.
