Gone for Good Read Online Free

I turned the page and skimmed the rest. I knew what it said. Mom had once, offhandedly, mentioned that she intended to leave everything to Ronnie and me. She didn’t have much – just the house, a ten-year-old Toyota Corolla and the life insurance. I didn’t expect to see much. I figured whatever there was would go to Ronnie’s care, and I was fine with that despite my life as an impoverished graduate student.
    ‘Are you … ?’ Paul looked like he thought he was interrupting something private and personal. He stood at the doorway of Mom’s room as though an invisible barrier were keeping him out.
    I looked at him and held the paper up. ‘The plan,’ I said. ‘Information about the funeral home. And Mom’s will.’
    ‘The will’s there?’ he said. He still didn’t come into the room. He looked around again, just as he had in the living room. Absorbing? Remembering?
    ‘It looks pretty standard,’ I said. ‘Ronnie and I get everything.’
    ‘Good.’
    ‘And
it names you Ronnie’s guardian,’ I said. ‘But I guess you knew that.’
    I felt emotion welling in me again. I clamped my lips tight, biting against it. Everything seemed so final, so certain. So finished. I looked up at Paul. His face was ashen, his lips slightly parted. For a moment, I thought he might faint or fall over. Was he sick?
    ‘Paul?’ I said.
    I dropped the will and started to get up. But he waved me back.
    ‘I’m okay,’ he said. ‘Really. Things are just sinking in, that’s all.’ He let his body sag against the doorjamb. He lifted his hand to his head and rubbed his temple. ‘Ronnie went to sleep.’
    ‘Is he okay?’ I asked.
    ‘He’s okay. He didn’t say much. I think he’s wiped out.’
    ‘Me too,’ I said. I picked up the will again. I stared at the stupid papers. My vision started to swim. ‘Paul, I hadn’t talked to her in six weeks.’
    ‘I know.’
    ‘The last time we talked we had a huge fight.’
    ‘Don’t do this to yourself,’ he said. His voice sounded weary and hollow. ‘She knew.’
    ‘Knew what?’ I asked.
    ‘That you love her. That you love Ronnie. She knew that.’
    ‘Are you sure she did? I never said it. Not since I was a little kid. I probably didn’t even tell her when Dad died.’
    ‘She knew. Mothers know these things.’
    ‘You know what we fought about, right?’
    ‘About Ronnie?’
    ‘She
wanted me to promise that I would take care of him if anything happened to her. She wanted me to promise he would live with family and never have to go to an institution or a home. She was adamant, more adamant than ever.’
    ‘She always worried about that,’ he said.
    ‘Why couldn’t I just say it, Paul?’ I asked. ‘Why couldn’t I just tell her what she wanted to hear?’
    ‘Stubbornness,’ he said.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Stubbornness. Good old-fashioned stubbornness. We can’t make other people do things for us, no matter how much we want them to.’
    He seemed to be talking about something I didn’t know about, and I didn’t ask.
    I folded up the papers and slid them into the envelope, then put it back into the drawer. I would make the appropriate calls in the morning.
    ‘And,’ I said, ‘here I am tearing myself apart over it, and the fucking will gives you guardianship of Ronnie. Why did she need to ride me so hard?’
    I caught myself. Why was I worrying about these things now? She was gone. Mom was gone. Who cared about anything else?
    ‘I’m not getting any younger either,’ he said. ‘Look, you’re of a different generation than your mother. She’s sixty-nine. You’re twenty-six. You want to have a career. You worked after college in Illinois and supported yourself. You’re independent. She never thought about those things. Her whole life was her kids, especially Ronnie. She lived to make sure he was okay. That’s why he’s doing so
well. She spent so much time with him. Talking to him, reading to him.’
    I tried to collect my thoughts, tried to be logical and