The Black Book

The sound of a ringing phone can elicit many emotions, from anger to curiosity or even fear. At 03:00AM, a ringing phone is rarely a good thing and usually means nothing but trouble. Occasionally it was a drunk waitress or girlfriend looking for company, but mostly it was trouble.

“Hello” I groaned into the phone as I struggled to wake up.

The cobwebs of sleep and fragments of dreams were barely receding as I sat up and tried to focus on the bedside clock. The old-fashioned clock radio number flipped over to 03:01AM as I blinked in a feeble attempt to clear my eyes.

“The old man is dead.” A familiar voice responded, “You need to come home.”

“How did you find me?” I asked. I was more shocked that my brother knew where to call to get a hold of me, than the fact that my Grandfather was dead. My Grandfather Thomas Kincaid, or The Old Man as most people called him, was indeed an old man. Eventually, old men died.

The fact that he was old was a given, but nobody knew exactly how old he was. Thomas Kincaid, no middle initial, arrived on the shore of these United States alone; an orphan with no papers. He had the clothes on his back and a battered black leather journal. Nothing else.

When I asked him once about his middle name, he told me that he didn’t have one as his family in Ireland was so poor, they could only afford a first name and he was one of the lucky few to even have a last name. Another time, he said that the damn Brits stole it and yet another time he even claimed to have sold it to pay his passage to the United States.

“Come home!” Was the only response as the line went dead with a click.

Just like that. Come home. Forget the past and come home.

I would do it for my Grandfather, knowing that it was the last time that I had to lay eyes on the rest of my family. I would do it for The Old Man and hope that ‘they’ could be civil, even though I knew that civility was not a trait that was passed down to my brother and sister.

I didn’t sleep the rest of the night. I gave up tossing and turning around 05:00AM and began to pack a small bag. I wouldn’t need more than a small bag as I had no intention of staying any longer than was needed. In fact, I wasn’t worried about how long I would stay as much as I was worried about I was going to get back to Chicago. I figured that at such short notice, I had enough money to buy a one-way ticket home but certainly not a round trip ticket.

Wait! Didn’t the airlines have some sort of hardship or funeral airfare? I would have to make a note to check on that – maybe I would get back to Chicago without worrying about hitching a ride with Mr. Touchy MacFeely or Stranger Danger.

Just as I was wishing that I had a decent suit to wear to the funeral, there was a knock at my door.

I opened the door and stood face to face or rather face to chest with Seamus. Seamus worked for my grandfather as a ‘problem solver’ and he was a big man at 6’5” and probably went about 285 pounds with big scarred hands the size of catcher’s mitts. The scars no doubt came from solving some of The Old Man’s more delicate problems, such as unpaid accounts or betting more than you could afford to lose.

“Hello, Liam.” Seamus said and stared at me.

“Seamus” I replied and walked into the room with an unspoken invitation for him to follow me.

I headed over to the liquor cabinet and grabbed two glasses and poured us each a shot of Paddy’s.

As I poured the whiskey, I heard the front door click shut. Most men would be hesitant to turn their back on Seamus; I knew that not only was he a friend, he certainly was not the type of man to attack you from behind. Seamus would look you in the eye before he pulled the trigger or raised a hand to you.

I handed him glass.

He took it and replied, “Slainte” and we drained our glasses.

“You’ve heard?” He asked as he eyed my bag sitting on the floor next to the couch.

“Yeah, big brother woke me up at 0300AM to give me the news.” I responded.

“He knew since 1000AM.” Seamus replied with a snort as he handed me back the glass.

“Another?” I asked which got me a declining shake of his big Irish head.

Now you may be looking at the timeline and thinking to yourself that it was awfully early for a drink of whiskey, but it was a family thing. Family that has not been seen in a long time were always greeted with the offer of a shot of whiskey and a suspicious look if you asked for water. A cup of tea was the substitute if you were a member of the clergy or plagued with the misfortune of being Irish and unable to control your drinking.

“Alright, Boyo,” Seamus announced “The rest of your luggage is in the trunk of the car downstairs and The Old Man wanted me to offer you a haircut before the funeral. From there the Gulfstream is at Midway waiting to take you home.”

“The rest of my luggage?” I questioned.

“A garment bag with three suits, some new shirts, jeans and a sport coat.” Seamus responded.

“How did you know that…” I started.

“The clothes would fit?” He finished. “You moved to Chicago, Liam. Not Mars. We’ve kept tabs.”

“Did you buy my tighty-whities too?” I challenged.

“I figured a non-conformist like you went commando and I had to draw the line someplace.” Was his response.

“I’ll just grab a few last items since my clothing choices have been upgraded, we’ll skip the haircut and head to the airport.” I stated matter-of-factly.

“Aye, the haircut was my idea anyway.” Seamus chuckled. “Your Gramps knew that you would never go for it.”

The ride to the airport was short and quiet. Not much was said during the commute and truth be told, what was there to say anyway.

We entered Midway Airport, once the busiest airport in the entire world and now while still busy it was a shadow of its former self, through a side gate on 59th Street. The driver got my bags from the trunk of the Lincoln Town Car and placed them at the entrance to the hangar.

The driver nodded almost imperceptibly to me and paused in front of Seamus, was handed an envelope, nodded his thanks and left the airport the same way we came in without saying a word. The driver had mastered the ‘don’t speak unless spoken to’ mentality that came with driving people that valued and paid for their privacy.

A pretty, young Flight Attendant named Fiona smiled and disappeared with my bags. Another even prettier Flight Attendant named Finula with an identical uniform and identical smile led us to our seats.

She took our drink orders and went off to fix them.

Upon her return, Seamus told her to “bring the bottle and a bucket of ice” which she did and then made herself scarce, leaving us to ourselves.

After Finula performed her disappearing act, Seamus handed me an envelope. I could tell without looking inside that it was stuffed full of bills.

“Some walking around money.” He responded to my raised eyebrows, “The Old Man didn’t want you walking around without a little scratch while you were in town.” With that he took a sip of his drink and closed his eyes.

My Grandfather always looked out for my best interests – Even before he took me and my siblings in. My parents were killed in a plane crash in the Everglades. While my brother and sister became spoiled and entitled, I took advantage of my situation in other ways.

The plane landed and the drive to the “Homeplace” was uneventful.

We had a nice dinner in the main dining room fixed by Mary the cook and housekeeper that had been there for my entire childhood.

My brother was well into his cups by the time we sat down to dinner and didn’t hesitate to point out how Mary had fixed all of my favorites for dinner.

“The prodigal son returns and gets all of his favorites on a silver platter.” He slurred.

My sister didn’t even feign to pretend interest in my life or where I had been. All she could talk about when she wasn’t texting, was my Grandfather’s will. Surely The Old Man had left the house to her so that she and her two unfortunately children had a roof over their heads. She was a single mother with two sons.

“As the eldest son and leader of the family,” my brother proclaimed, “I am sure that I will get the house. Maybe if you’re nice to me little sis I will let you live here.” He looked at me and waited for me to take the bait, which of course I didn’t.

“I’m going to bed.” I stated to everyone and no one in particular.

“The funeral is at 10:00AM, followed by the luncheon and the reading of the will at 7:00PM.” Big brother said to my receding back. “See if you can hang around long enough for the funeral.”

To the delight of my nephews. I flipped off my brother as I walked away.

The funeral was, well a funeral. The priest knew him well and gave a nice homily, no doubt The Old Man had given the church a nice donation every year for the last forty or so decades.

The luncheon was a blur of handshakes and condolences and didn’t I look well and how nice it was of me to return for the funeral and where on earth had I been living, and would I be staying long?

Now to the Main Event my brother announced as we walked into the Library for the reading of the will.

My brother and my sister split everything in the estate. I won’t bore you with the terms and conditions.

To my favorite Grandson, Liam, I leave you my journal. My only possession when I set foot on American soil. May it serve you well as you begin your journey into the future. Just remember son, never ask for more than you need and be careful what you wish for.

As I was leaving the house, battered black leather journal in hand, my brother tried to but it for $20,000.

I refused. I needed the money, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. The Old Man had left it to me and so he wanted it.

I flipped the journal open when the plane took off. On the inside cover in faded ink was written “Thoughts are Things”. I took a drink from the glass that Finula put down in front of me and wrote “I wish that I had $20,000 waiting for me at home and that Finula would drop by for dinner.”

I slipped the key into my condo lock and walked inside. When I opened my bag to unpack, I found stacks of $100 bills inside my duffel. I knew without counting it that there was $20,000 inside that bag, but I counted it anyway.

$20,000.00 in cash.

My life had suddenly gotten very interesting.

Just as I decided that I should order dinner, the doorbell rang. I knew who it was before I even opened the door.