Wild Orchids

I couldn't understand why she chose me, of all her grandchildren, to leave anything to. Let alone what she left me.

According to my father's side of the family, I was the least responsible, the most traumatized, and, frankly, the one who knew her least.

I was the queerest child of the blackest sheep. Practically un-loveable. Yet, there I was, alone, in an oddly decorated office, save a small balding man, an inexplicably large desk and a check for $20,000.

"What do you mean no one else is coming?"

"That's it," he responded. "You were the one she named in her will for this amount. All of her other assets have been distributed to the named charities and relatives."

"You're telling me Maria Oller left me 20 grand with zero explanation?"

He shrugged and handed me the check. I stared at it, still in a daze.

"My advice," he said, "invest some, save some, pay off your debts with the rest. Not many people get this sort of opportunity in this lifetime."

With that he shook my hand and led me to the door.

I took the elevator downstairs, walked outside, the sun offensively bright after the shadowy office, and felt numb. Why me? We hadn't spoken in years, other than the obligatory holiday and birthday phone calls. It just didn’t make sense. Why me?

As this question rattled through my brain, my feet moved without my knowledge or direction and I suddenly found myself in front of a bank.

Strange. I'd never had one of those before. A bank, or even an account. Seeing as I had spent most of my life moving from city to city, odd job to odd job, I never really had much need for one.

I felt for the check in my pocket - How could one piece of paper feel so heavy? - and looked up at the backlit sign. I took a deep breath and walked in.

The guard at the door looked at me the way most security guards looked at me - with suspicion and vague disgust. I was, after all, an utterly androgynous street urchin.

In any case, I smiled at him and thought about what he would do if I simply handed him a $100 bill.

Just like that, the idea dawned on me.

I didn't really have any debts or needs. I had spent so long on my own, that I didn't even know where to begin with this money. In all my time and all my travels, the only thing I ever really wanted was a way to help the people who most needed and deserved it.

I walked right up to the teller, who looked at me like she smelled something awful.

"I'd like to cash this please."

As I handed over the piece of paper, I met her eye and gave her another of my wide smiles.

"Alright, I think I can help you with - "

She stopped mid-sentence as she read the amount on the check.

"I'm sorry, you said you wanted to cash this?"

"Yep. 20's, 50's and 100's if you don't mind."

She eyed me again, then looked incredulously back down at the check.

"Okay... I'm going to need to verify this with my manager first. It may take a while. I will also need an ID to prove that this is you."

"Not a problem, I have plenty of time."

I handed her my license and motioned to the sofas in the corner. She nodded and walked away, disappearing into the back, her fellow tellers all suddenly aware that something was amiss.

After a few minutes, she returned with a comically large envelope and my ID. I walked back over to her.

"Did everything check out?" I asked, grinning, amused by my own wit. She smiled tightly, less amused.

"It did. Here is your license and here is the amount you requested, in mixed bills."

I opened the package immediately. I'd never seen so much money before. I thought about all the "smart" things I could do with it - invest, buy a plot, go back to school, travel, make a savings account - and instantly pushed the ideas out of my head.

No. After years of neglect and general disdain at who and how I was, I never wanted to succeed in life with my family thinking they had anything at all to do with it.

I looked around the bank, counted the people and handed each one $100.

I went to every homeless person I could find and handed them $100. I bought out the ice cream cart for $200. I bought all the flowers from the flower lady and handed them out to anyone who looked even remotely sad. Each flower had a $20 bill attached and a smiley face drawn over Jackson's mug.

I couldn't help but notice the last flower left was a shockingly small, bright pink orchid, in an even smaller clay pot. It was my grandmother's favorite flower. Despite her cold demeanor while alive, I couldn't help but think maybe this was her way of approving from the great beyond, so I decided to keep it.

When I got home to my trailer, I looked inside the bag and realized I still had a few grand left. I wasn't sure what to do with it yet, so I wrapped a rubber band around the bag and shoved it in my sock drawer. I placed the orchid on the windowsill behind my headboard.

That night, I had the best sleep of my life.

The next day, I decided it was time for a drive. I had a beautiful day but it wasn't until that evening that I realized what everything was for.

I parked my trailer near the edge of a small cliff overlooking the water to watch the sunset. As I got out, I saw a young person, no more than 19, with tousled hair and tears on their face, hanging their feet off the edge. I wasn't sure if they noticed me.

"Hey," I said.

They did not turn to look.

"Are you okay?"

I caught a soft eye roll before they shrugged.

"Do you need help?"

That snapped them out of it.

"What could you possibly do for me?"

"Well, I suppose that depends on what you need."

"Just leave me alone."

"Look, I get it. If you want to jump off this cliff right now, I would understand. I don't even need to know anything about you. I know life. That's enough. I don't look like much but maybe, just maybe, there will be something I can do for you. And if there is, I will."

"Why? What do you want?"

"The knowledge that I could help you find hope in a dark time is more than enough."

"No one talks like that. Why do you sound like a fortune cookie?"

I laughed.

"There's this old curse… it says "may you have an interesting life". I think I got so cursed, I turned blessed. I suppose that sort of thing changes you. Right down to the way you talk."

They stared at me for a long time, the debate of whether or not to trust me clear in their eyes. They glanced at my home behind me.

"Look, you drive a trailer. You can't help me."

I laughed again, the money in the envelope whispering to me from inside that this might be the moment I was waiting for.

"I need money for a plane ticket. My parents kicked me out with nothing but the clothes on my back, took my phone, everything. My girlfriend and her family said I could stay with them in New York but I don't have any way of getting there.. Or even telling her I'm okay…"

Silent tears began to stream. I knew this pain. This loneliness. This was in fact, exactly the moment I was waiting for.

"Come with me."

"What?"

"You need a ride to the airport. But first, we need to get you some stuff."

"What?"

"C'mon. Even if I am a murderer, it's not like you weren't just thinking about murdering yourself. You've already assumed the worst - why not try the best for a change?"

They paused a long time, looked out at the sea once more before nodding and following me inside.

Their name was Luz. Light. I found it fitting. We got them a phone, some clothes, and a bag to carry everything. After we ate, they slept the rest of the way to the airport. By then it was already near midnight.

"Hey, Luz," I whispered as I gently shook them awake, "we're here."

They awoke, startled, despite my efforts, and looked around.

"I thought this was a dream."

"You ready for the best part?"

I pulled out the envelope with the rest of the cash in it and smiled.

"This is for you. You'll need it for your ticket and to live while you find a job over there."

They stared quizzically before taking the envelope and looking inside. Their eyes widened in realization.

"There's like 5 grand here."

"Yep."

"I don't -"

"It's yours now. Go home. To your new family. Start the life you deserve."

We both cried as they wrapped their arms around me and I hugged them back. I was finally able to make the difference I felt I needed to make.

"And stay in touch. I want to know you're doing well. If you're ever not, I am here for you."

I saw them off and realized I had just participated in the rebirth of a human being. I thanked my grandmother silently. Who would've thought that in all her religiously devout glory, she would indirectly save the life of someone she might've previously criticized? I smiled the whole way home.

Under the light of the full moon, I planted the orchid and named it Luz. For years, I looked after it and anytime it got sick, I would call my young friend to check on them.

A decade later, Luz gave me a call. They had been hired as a curator for a museum in the city and found something they thought might be of interest.

"I sent it to your PO box. The tracking number said it arrived."

"But what is it?"

"Look, you've already imagined the worst so why not try imagining the best."

"Hah. Okay."

When I arrived at the post office and opened the PO, I struggled to understand what I saw. An old, small leather bound book peered back at me from inside the mailbox. I pulled it out and opened it.

Instantly my eye recognized the handwriting. I couldn't believe it at first but then my eye was drawn to the name at the bottom of the page. Maria Oller. This was my grandmother's diary from when she was in her 20's. I don't know how many times I poured over it before calling Luz back. My favorite part was the budding orchid pressed into the inside of the back cover labelled: "Nuestra amor, aqui por siempre."

"Our love (feminine), immortalized here."

My grandmother was an artist. A poet. An intellectual. And a lesbian.

For years I had no idea. Her family forcefully institutionalized her in the McCarthy 50's and she pretended to be straight for the rest of her life with my grandfather. They had 8 kids. All of them hated me. The way they spoke to me, I thought she hated me too. We were all wrong.

I couldn't help but think how arrogant I had been to think life was done teaching me things after so much time. I was grateful for the lesson. And the beautiful way life had of teaching it to me.