Alexander Meets His Uncle

Alexander paused just short of ringing the doorbell and turned to look at his mom. "Mom, do we have to do this?" he asked her.

His mother looked down her bumpy nose at him and her face began to turn red. "Alexander! Do not make me repeat myself! This is our big break! This is what we have been praying for all along." She straightened her dark blue blazer and brushed some of her brown hair back behind her ear. "Behave yourself. Act responsibly. Treat him with respect and whatever you do--do not ask him how he got his money!"

Alexander sighed and turned back to consider the imposing entry. Before he could ring the bell the door was opened and a maid wearing--Alexander had to do a double take--what you would expect a maid to wear stepped aside and with a welcoming gesture said, "Please come in."

The cool air was a welcome relief from the sweltering Florida summer as they stepped inside the grand foyer. Alexander inhaled deeply and heard his mother do the same as they surveyed their surroundings. The foyer had a cathedral ceiling with a painted mural on the ceiling of the heavens high above them. A staircase wound its way up the far wall like a wild vine while amidst the oversize sofas, cherubs and flowers stood on pedestals throughout the space.

"This way please." The maid said kindly as she led them into a room off to the right. They followed her through the arched doorway and took their seats on the sofa offered them. The room was decorated with paintings alternating between depicting naked women and green fields. Alexander sniggered.

"May I get you a drink?" She asked them.

"Coke please."

"Sherry." Alexander's mother replied in a haughty tone. He rolled his eyes. His mother had never, he was quite sure, ever drank sherry. She had only said it because she thought that was what rich people drink. She had told him that a hundred times before as they grew up.

Life had not been easy for Alexander. It was just him and his mother. She told people she worked in the service industry because she thought it sounded professional, but everywhere they lived she always ended up being a waitress. Usually in a slimy 24 hour diner and during the night shifts. They always ate food from the diner she would bring home and Alexander hated it. But his mother claimed she couldn't stand to go cook anything in the kitchen because she slaved over a hot stove at the diner. Alexander knew that was a lie but knew better than to speak his mind.

For the fourteen years of his existence he had always heard about his uncle. His mother would go on and on about how rich he was, about his lavish parties that the newspapers would sometimes write stories about; his famous speeches, his multiple mansions and most importantly about his piles and piles of money and their total absence of it. And his mother never failed to remind Alexander that she was the only living relative and that her brother should take pity on them and give them money. "He has money" she would say, "and we do not. It's that easy. Why should I slave away in a hot kitchen and make next to no money while he throws parties in the South of France? It is not fair."

The maid handed his mother an odd shaped glass with an amber liquid in it--sherry he supposed--and handed him a fizzling glass. "Thanks" he said.

Then the letter had arrived. It was an in over-sized cream color envelope with the yellow forwarding stamp from the post office. Thankfully, it had found them at their current address. As soon as it arrived his mother knew what it contained. She didn't go to work. Instead she sat on the recliner, staring dumb founded at the envelope while quietly mumbling to herself. Finally she opened it, stood up suddenly and exclaimed, "NEXT WEEK! Alexander, he expects to see us NEXT WEEK!"

Next week had arrived. As Alexander sat there, feeling out of sorts in the new suit his mother had forced on him he tried to decide how he felt. Most of the time he didn't care about meeting his uncle or his uncle's money. But if he were honest with himself, that most likely was because his mother was so strongly in favor of it. And he also wouldn't find living in one place for an extended amount of time. He would like to eat real food and of course, he'd like it very much if his mom would be awake during the day and home at night.

"I can't wait to do nothing" he heard his mother saying quietly to herself.

Then of course there was the great mystery of how his uncle ever made all this money. His mother never stopped talking about how much money he had--and how much he continued to make--but she would never answer the question "How did he make that money?" Her response was always the same, "Now, now Alex, that is a rude question. Never ask no one how they made their money."

A shadow fell across the entry and Alexander looked up and for the first time in his life saw his uncle in the flesh. He was tall, his hair was slicked back and he wore a white polo shirt with Bermuda shorts and exuded an air of class. A gold ring on his pinky twinkled in so many different ways simultaneously that Alexander knew it must house a sizable diamond.

"Silas!" His mother exclaimed as she stood up and smiled. "So good to see you!"

Alexander's uncle sighed, seemed to draw on some inner strength and nod to himself before responding, "It is good to see you too Leanna." He walked into the room and stood directly in front of Alexander. "Does your son have any manners" he asked Alexander's mother.

"Stand up!" She hissed at him under her breath. Alexander stood and mumbled an apology and held his hand out. His uncle took his hand and squeezed it hard as he shook it, with his gray eyes staring searchingly into Alexander's. The feeling was unnerving. Alexander figured he must have found what he was looking for because he could have sworn he heard his uncle quietly mutter "good."

They all took their seats simultaneously and Alexander noticed his uncle was now holding a drink in his hand that hadn't been present there before.

"Alexander. As I am unaware of what your mother has told you I am going to assume you are ignorant of the impending changes in your life and will fill you in. After me, you are the only living male of the family. As your mother has done absolutely nothing with her life and I have done so very much, it seems a complete waste to let my money go to the government when I die. So you are going to move in with me here; you will go to a preparatory school and eventually go to an excellent college. You will one day inherit my money and also inherit my legacy and take up my cause. Do you have any questions?"

Alexander shifted in his seat and looked down at his coke, trying to take it all in. Little bubbles of CO2 floated to the top, quietly popping at the surface. He was never very philosophical but it seemed there was something very similar to the fate of those bubbles of CO2 and his life as it currently stood. They had no say in their role, they just did what they were supposed to do and eventually popped and fizzled into nothing. For his entire life he had had no say in anything but just did what he was supposed to do. And so, it seemed, it would continue. "Well, what about my mom?"

His uncle sighed again. "Maria" he said as he shook his now empty glass--when had he drank that?--with the ice cubes clanking against the glass. The maid hurried over, took his glass and then quickly returned with another one. "If it is your wish then your mother will move in with me and you here--though," he turned and faced her, "the first embarrassing mistake you make and you are out!" He turned back to Alexander, "but of course, she will always be amply provided for." To his shame Alexander's mother said nothing in her defense, and neither did he. "Any other questions young man?"

Again, Alexander found himself struggling with the news and stalling for time to digest it. He looked around the room at the paintings, the gilded furniture, the crystal ware on the drinking cart, the maid, the sconces and imposing fireplace and marveled that this would be his home. "Well, you mentioned a cause. What is your cause?"

His uncle blanched at this question. "What is my cause" he asked incredulously. "Have you told him nothing about me, Leanna?"

"Well I... of course I... many stories..." She trailed off.

"Unbelievable." He turned and looked at Alexander. "My cause my dear nephew, is the poor." He waived ambiguously in the direction of the maid Maria. "And pleasure." He smiled wickedly at Alexander.

"That cause, of course, is one in the same. The poor can't experience pleasure like other people because pleasure is only found in material objects and material objects cost money. I think everyone should be able to enjoy life like I enjoy life and I think everyone should have access to money like I have access to money. So I make donations to organizations and individuals who think like I do; I make speeches occasionally, do what I can to educate the public ." He smiled benevolently.

Alexander tried his hardest to not choke on his drink. The poor! He thought. What does this man know about being poor? Has he ever been evicted from an apartment? Had he only eaten one meal a day and that provided by the school? Had he been dumpster diving or had the electricity shut off or enter a church with his mom and sit there while she goes on and on about how she loves Jesus just so she can't get a tank of gas? His entire life they had been poor. Poverty was all he knew. And here was his uncle, sitting on a sofa larger than Alexander's last bedroom talking about how he cared about the plight of the poor!

Before he knew what he was doing Alexander heard himself say, "How did you make your money?"

His mother inhaled audibly but his uncle's face lit up like the sun.

"Oh good question! That is my favorite topic!" Then his uncle tittered. "It started in the 60's. You know, everyone was all about free love, equality, all of that stuff. One day, this silly little tune came into my head and I wrote it down. I thought, 'Hey Silas, this is pretty good' so I copyrighted it. First lesson Alex--make sure you own the rights to everything you create. So anyway, I wrote this song and it is about how nice it would be if we got along and there were no poor. All fluff--but people loved it! It became this instant hit!"

"You're a rock star!"

"Not anymore. I haven't toured in decades. There is no need and I never enjoyed it. The funny thing is that millions of people, millions Alex, agreed entirely with the message of my song and paid money to own a copy of it and in the process paid me millions and millions! Every time the news plays it in the back ground of some David and Goliath story, every time a TV show or movie uses it in a sound track, every time another band covers it, 'cha-ching!'" He laughed out loud now. "Oh it is such a joke! Don't they see? They agree with the message of the song, they cheer when I talk yet they simultaneously pay money for my songs and pay me to speak and support this life style. Fools!" He suddenly became somber. "Alex, always remember this: anyone can succeed if they put their mind to it." He ended this advice by looking dismissively at his sister. "Now, any more questions?"

Alexander sat silent, unsure of what to say or do.