When Gracie is humiliated after following her best friend's brother to college and finds he's moved on without her, she grows closer to his rival--the captain of his basketball team--the infamous Kalen Rush, and suddenly Gracie wonders just what len...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The door shut behind me in the room alone with the safety deposit box glaring at me, the walls closing in on that rectangular silver box that, according to my mother, held more money than I'd ever seen before in my entire life.
I hadn't actually planned on coming here, entertaining this idiotic idea that my mother had actually left me anything of meaning or worth when all her life she'd done the complete opposite.
But it was still there, that annoying little flicker of hope still burning away in my chest, singeing the wick inside my soul even brighter after the video...
The video...
"If you're watching this, then that means I'm really gone, and for that, I'm sorry. I didn't do many things right in my life, but having you as a daughter was one of them. I'm sorry that I wasn't around enough to have seen just how perfect you turned out, but the pictures your dad's sent me tell me enough about you--spelling bee champion, honor-roll, straight-A's, a scholarship, graduating top of your class. I wish some of that had been my influence, but I know it was just in spite of it."
"Whatever you take from this video, if you haven't already shut it off, is this: go to the bank written on the slip attached to the safety deposit key and open it. Take the money inside and never look back. We're women in a harsh world, and this is all I've collected and kept back for you so that you could have your foot in the door in this cruel world we live in. I know it won't make me look better in your eyes, but it's the least I could've done to help you. Don't ask me how I got the money--well, I guess you can't if you're watching this."
"I missed so much of your life growing up--boys, tantrums, rebellious phases, sneaking out, trying your first cigarette, having your first sip of alcohol...your dad tells me he's been sober for three years, and I'm so glad he's a stable parent for you in a way I couldn't be. I wasn't cut out for being a mom, but maybe you will be one day, with your kids. I know you won't make the same mistakes I have, but hopefully giving you this last gift won't be one of them.
"Take the money and live your life. And do me a favor--never think about me again. Don't grieve my loss, don't feel sad or angry about me--don't think on me ever again. I was never worth your heartbreak, and I know I never will be, but at least I can do this one last act to make sure you'll always be taken care of. I know it might not seem like it, but I love you, Gracie Bear. Have a great life. Live a life to be proud of, because all you've done your entire life so far has made me proud. I really wish this wasn't goodbye, and for me maybe it isn't, but I know it is for you. I love you, Gracie."
The memory faded out like an old wisp of an intangible photograph, leaving me feeling more disjointed than prepared to open the safety deposit box, but open it I did, and to say that the contents of the box was shocking was an understatement.
I had never seen so many one-hundred dollar bills before in my life.
Each stack of them was banded together with a slip of paper around them, and at first it felt like I was in some kind of bank robbery movie.
