16 Year Bet

What do you do when you lose a bet with a dead man?

Grandfathers’ funeral was today, Mother spent the afternoon crying with a black tissue tucked between her fingers while Father whispered in her ear that it would be alright. My brothers, Daniel and Nicolas stood by the casket while our broken Grandmother kneeled on the ground in front of the wooden box that held Grandfathers body. I wondered if the casket had to be customed ordered to fit his fat ass; dead or not, he wasn’t an Olympian to say the least. I stood there, nearby but at a further distance to escape from the sympathy. I loved the old man, I did, but he left me with a burden that I had to wrap my mind around; a little box wrapped up in the ugliest brown paper and a bet that kept this box shut.

I was ten years old, it was a hot summers day, and this little brown box showed up on the doorstep one afternoon, with no name and no address attached.

“First one to open the box will owe the other five dollars.” Grandfather whispered to me while we both examined the box.

We were both cheap and competitive even then, neither wanted to pay the other and now the box sat in Grandfathers’ closet collecting dust.

Now, I am a twenty-six-year-old and he is laid in a casket with his eyes glued shut, he’d never know if I peeked yet, I could almost hear him breathing over my shoulder, “Come on Gin, I could use that fiver for a cigar.” He wouldn’t win this bet, I will take it to my grave and my children will take it to theirs, I will win this, Grandfather.

The funeral flew by, one moment people were hugging us while they sobbed over what a wonderful man Grandfather was and the next moment, we were watching the casket being lowered into the ground. He was really gone. I watched as my family parted to say their goodbyes to loved ones before we’d have to take off to sort Grandfathers’ belongings before I reached down and grabbed a handful of dirt, leaning down to the open hole that held his wooden box, releasing the dirt on top of him, “Don’t forget our bet, old man. Don’t go asking around Heaven what the box holds.”

The car ride back to our family home was dreadfully silent, a few sobs here and there from Grandmother and Mother but, other than that there was no sound, you could hear a pin drop. Grandfather was the main talker, he hated silence, so he never shut his mouth now that he was gone; no one had a thing to say. Mother helped Grandmother inside and Father followed. My brothers had snuck away before we’d even said our goodbyes to those at the funeral. The day continued with more awkward silence until Mother suggested that we sorted Grandfathers’ things because ‘it was time.’

While Mother and Grandmother were sorting Grandfathers clothes, my life flashed before my eyes when I saw the box falling from the closet. I jumped forward to catch the box, my chest hitting the stained carpet while the box landed in my hands, and I nearly caused my grandmother to have a heart attack, “this is mine.”

I had scooped the box in my arms and held it tightly to my chest before excusing myself from the room to go into my own, locking the door behind me. I was sat down on my bed, the brown papered box sat right in front of me. It was haunting me more than the fact that I found this man dead less than two weeks ago. He was laid in his bed with a whiskey bottle on his chest, I noticed he wasn’t breathing when I didn’t see the bottle moving up and down. As I laid in my bed, I couldn’t keep my mind off what contents this box held, I could finally know without owing him anything yet, I felt that he was watching over me and I couldn’t give him the satisfaction. Therefore, I forced myself to sleep at ten past six.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of people chattering outside my door yet the first thing that caught my attention was the box that was once on the end of my bed was now placed right beside me on my night table. I forced myself to believe that nothing suspicious happened and continued with my daily duties; cleaning my bedroom and making Grandmother breakfast while Mother and Father went into town for things they needed. Though, the last two weeks have been different. When I peeked out my door, I saw my parents speaking to Grandmother while having a cup of tea; I chose not to leave my room when I confirmed the voices. The choice not to leave my room was almost more haunting than having to conversate with a depressed widow and daughter because I was left with that dreadful box. I wondered what could be inside, I wondered what the brown paper was underneath if it was a brown box or perhaps it was one of those fancy white boxes with a loved ones scribbled handwriting on it. Why did Grandfather have to die and leave me with this mystery by myself? It was much easier when he was alive because his raisin looking face always kept the competition on my mind. He would tease me about opening the box every morning and I could say with confidence that I never intended to figure out what was inside. Now, all I could think about was what was inside. I stood there in silence for several moments before the idea came to me, the idea of how I could still win this bet while knowing what was held in this box.

This idea led me onto a drive alone, heading to Grandfathers’ burial site. He was easy to find, it was the only grave there that had been newly dug in and didn’t have a headstone yet. I parked my car on the paved ground and walked toward the dirt covered hole that held his body. I sat down right beside him, placing the box down in front of me.

“I know you want to know what is inside. So, I am going to open it and close my eyes. You can see first then since you already lost, I will look. You can save the five dollars until I met you at the gates.” I spoke to Grandfathers’ grave as if he were sat right beside me. I aligned my hand with the edge of the brown paper and closed my eyes, pulling it to rip open the box. I ripped layers and layers of this brown paper until I reached the end. I felt around the box until I found an opening, pulling on that until the seal broke and it opened, “Get a good look old man.” I mumbled, keeping my eyes closed for another ten seconds before I finally opened them and looked down at the container that was in my hands.

It wasn’t a box at all, it was a plastic container that had been wrapped so tightly that I’d assumed it had been an old cardboard box. Inside this container held an envelope, to say I was disappointed at first was an understatement, that was until I grabbed the letter that was inside, and it read:

Ginny, my darling grandbaby.

I am almost certain if you are reading this that I have passed on. I know you even at ten years old you are fierce and want to win at everything you do. I love that about you. I leave this earth knowing how proud I am of you in this moment when I am writing this, and I am certain that I am proud of the person you are when I am gone. If I wasn’t, I would’ve told your grandmother to burn this box. I love you, Ginger-Bean. Congratulations, you owe me $5, and I will be here waiting. I love you and hope wherever you are in life, this note finds you and the contents attached ease your burdens.

Sincerely, Grandfather Richard, the winner of $5.

Attached to this note was a check for $9,995 with a note written on the back of it,

‘I was going to give you $10,000 but, I needed a new cigar.’

From the moment I read the first line, the tears never stopped; how could I live with losing him and the bet?

© Jessica Kubicki