My Old Life
I hated watching him die. Knowing that each day brought him closer to his grave. I hated him for doing it. For making me watch. Well, he didn't really make me watch since I was away at school. But it's not like I ever watched anything happen to him, he never was around long enough. Work shit mostly. But, still...I knew what was happening. I'm a smart girl, I was studying psychology in college and it's not hard to figure out when someone is purposely working themselves to death. 100 hour work weeks. Unnecessary. I miss Mom too, maybe more than he did. When was he ever around to enjoy her company for more than a couple of days or a few hours here and there? I know he loved her with his whole self, but he couldn't ever give himself to her and it ate away at him.
So he worked. And worked and worked. He became a billionaire. I became an heiress. She got sick.
She got so sick.
It took her 6 years to die. My entire adolescence. He became overprotective, sent me to multiple self-defense classes, bought me a gorgeous ebony-handled 8" half-serrated blade. "Do what you have to do to stay safe", he told me. He couldn't handle the idea of losing me over something senseless, like someone trying to steal my PDA or my Louis Vuitton backpack. He was already losing her and there was nothing he could do, so he had me taught to defend myself. He showed more of himself to her as she died then I'd ever seen.
6 months at the house in the Hamptons- relaxing on the beach, cocktails in bed when she couldn't get out of it, extravagant breakfasts courtesy of Hannah, our cook, who had all the rules for Mom's diet memorized in 2 days, closed curtains sometimes when she couldn't stand to know that the world was so beautiful and she was so quickly leaving it. Other times, when all she wanted was her family near her to enjoy what time she had left together, he'd carry her to the deck (which faced the ocean) and set her in a lounger, make her comfortable then he and I would build a sand castle not far off the deck. She'd take pictures and I'd see tears streaming down behind the camera and she asked us to pose for her. We had such good times eating S'mores (the kind Hannah made, of course. Chocolate from Switzerland and all that.), drinking champagne (Dom, what else?), trying to just enjoy each other.
But after the first couple of years, she didn't get better and it started to wear on all of us. Having the jet make emergency trips to the clinic in...well, I don't remember where, everyone was on edge all the time hoping that it wouldn't be today that we'd lose her.
After another 2 years, we wondered if it wouldn't be easier for her to just go and let us move on. It was too hard on her, on us. He began to withdraw into his work so he wouldn't have to face it.
I started my first year at Yale in August of 96. She died in October. At least she died in her sleep. She'd been through enough. I finished the current semester in a couple of weeks and left early.
My father flew home for the funeral, then left during the dinner. A conference he couldn't miss.
Then he started killing himself with work. I went back to school. Took classes over the summers, no point coming home.
I double majored in Psychology and German. I concentrated on Personality and Behavior, and Abnormal Psychology (pathology, cognitive problems). I also studied group dynamics in the soc department. I learned german so I could read the great german psychologists and philosophers in their native language. Just me being a nerd, I guess.
I graduated in December 2000, full honors, lucky me. My father accomplished his task in Nov. 99. He beat me. He won the race. I inherited everything. Billions. And the unfortunate fame that went with it.
I hated it. I hated all the people. The shopping was nice. I quickly bored of that though.
I didn't want to go to Grad School. I didn't know what to do with myself. I gave gobs of money to charities. Any charity, I couldn't care less. Millions at a time. Sometimes anonymously. I never left the house during the day. I'd travel to New York for weeks at a time, stay in the poshest suite at the most amazing hotels and tip so well, the staff would fall over themselves to do whatever I wanted.
Can I have a masseuse come to you Miss?
Yes please do so. Actually, send the whole spa staff. I want everything.
I never left the hotels during the day. At night I partied like it was the sole purpose of my life. Cocaine flowed into my system. Alcohol was like water and not beer or wine...Tequila. Straight, just the way I liked it. I partied to hurt myself as much as possible. I'd always been a lusty gal and it was my time to fuck whomever looked my way. I grabbed strangers. I had meaningless, awful sex in bathrooms, hallways, alleys, the back of the limo, other people's apartments - threesomes, all girls, orgies - it didn't matter....never in my room though. I never brought it home.
I behaved this way for over a year. I'm surprised I didn't die. I wasted millions. My life was meaningless and I didn't care.
It was this lifestyle that allowed me to accept my new life with such open arms.
The old one was worthless.