Lost Cause Read Free

to hear what you’re going to tell us.”
    â€œI’m sure you are,” the lawyer said. “But, actually, I’m not going to tell you anything. Your grandfather is.”
    Everyone tensed at that, and I caught DJ glancing toward the door as if he expected Grandfather to walk through it.
    â€œI’m going to play a video your grandfather made.” The lawyer picked up a remote and pointed it at the shiny black TV. “I was in the room when your grandfather recorded this.” He pressed a button and the TV flickered into life. “I think all of you will be at least a little surprised by what he has to say.” He pressed a second button, and Grandfather appeared on the screen.
    I watched, enthralled. We all did. I know I had never felt particularly close to Grandfather, but it was weird seeing and hearing him almost from beyond the grave.
    â€œI’m not sure why I have to be wearing makeup,” he said to someone off camera. “This is my will, not some late-night talk show…and it’s certainly not a live taping.” The figure off camera laughed, and I found myself smiling. That was the sort of black humor I enjoyed.
    â€œGood morning…or afternoon, boys,” he began, turning to face the camera and us. “If you’re watching this, I must be dead, although on this fine afternoon I feel very much alive.” Grandfather looked exactly as I remembered him, wearing his trademark black beret and the sweater I remembered Mom knitting him a couple of winters ago.
    â€œI want to start off by saying that I don’t want you to be sad. I had a good life and I wouldn’t change a minute of it. That said, I still hope that you are at least a little sad and that you miss having me around. After all, I was one spectacular grandpa!”
    A chuckle rose from the group, and I had to admit that I did miss him, now that I could only see him on TV.
    â€œAnd you were simply the best grandsons a man could ever have. I want you to know that of all the joys in my life, you were among my greatest. From the first time I met each of you to the last moments I spent with you”—Grandfather smiled slightly—“and of course I don’t know what those last moments were, but I know they were wonderful, I want to thank you all for being part of my life. A very big, special, wonderful, warm part of my life.”
    It was soppy and sentimental. I knew that, but it didn’t stop a tear forming in the corner of my eye as I watched the old man reach forward and take a sip of water from the glass on the desk in front of him. His hand shook ever so slightly. Was he nervous? He never struck me as someone who felt fear.
    â€œI wanted to record this rather than have my lawyer read it out to you.” A smile turned the corners of my grandfather’s lips up. “Hello, Johnnie.”
    â€œHello, Davie,” the lawyer replied with a matching smile.
    Grandfather glanced off screen. “I hope you appreciate that twenty-year-old bottle of Scotch I left you. And you better not have had more than one snort of it before the reading of my will.” He looked back at us and winked.
    The lawyer held up two fingers.
    â€œBut knowing you the way I do, I suspect you would have had two.”
    The lawyer looked embarrassed. “He did know me well.”
    I shook my head to try and get rid of the feeling of weirdness. Here was my dead grandfather talking to us and his lawyer in this room and also to the same lawyer who was at the recording of the message. It was eerie.
    â€œI just thought I wanted—needed—to say goodbye to all of you in person. Or at least as in person as this allows.
    â€œLife is an interesting journey, one that seldom takes you where you think you might be going. Certainly, I never expected that I was going to ever become an old man. In fact, there were more than a few times when I was a boy that I didn’t believe I was going