Getting Revenge on Grandma's Behalf

Many people showed up for Grandma's funeral. They were mainly business associates of my uncle, Michael Shaw. They came, glanced at the casket out of respect, and left. Most of them probably didn't even know Grandma's name—Annie Lewis.

Mom sat right beside the casket, her eyes puffy. Without a word, she dipped her head in gratitude to every guest who paid their respects.

Uncle Michael stood at the front in a black suit. His eyes were red, and tears streamed down his face as he told everyone, "My mother's passing came as a huge shock to all of us. I never even got to see her one last time."

His acting was so brilliant that I almost believed him.

Grandma died at midnight yesterday. She suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and was already gone by the time she was taken to the hospital.

Uncle Michael claimed he'd rushed over the moment he got the call. But I knew that during the six months Grandma had been sick and constantly in and out of the hospital, I could count the number of times he checked on her with one hand.

Halfway through the funeral, Uncle Michael's wife, Fiona Hall, pulled Mom aside.

"Monica, now that Mom's gone, there's something we need to discuss," she said.

My mom, Monica Shaw, was Grandma's eldest daughter and Uncle Michael's older sister.

But Grandma had always favored Uncle Michael more. All of the best things the family could afford went to him. Mom never even got the chance to attend college. She'd started working right out of high school to help bring money into the family.

"Before Mom passed away, she said the old house should go to Michael," Fiona declared. She was dabbing at her tears, but her tone was firm. "Randy's about to get married, and he still doesn't have a place of his own yet. This house is perfect for him."

She was talking about Randall Shaw, my cousin and her only son. He was 26 years old this year and had been sponging off Grandma for three years now.

Mom lowered her head and twisted the tissue in her hands. "Alright. If that's what Mom wanted, then that's what we'll do."

I tensed up a little. Grandma's house was located in a historic neighborhood on the west side of the city. Despite how old the building was, it was in a good location. Someone even offered to buy the house off Grandma for 550 thousand dollars last year, but she couldn't bear to part with it then.

Meanwhile, how much money had Mom forked out for Grandma over the years?

She paid for Grandma's medication and caregivers. She also gave Grandma spending money for every special occasion. All in all, it came up to at least 250 thousand dollars.

But in Mom's eyes, it was perfectly reasonable for the house to go, in its entirety, to her brother instead of her. That was the mentality she'd been raised to have.

"Mom." I gently tugged on her sleeve. "Can you stop agreeing to everything they say?"

Mom shot me a glare and hissed at me, "Stop it. Don't you realize what day it is?"

"The reason why we're here is the same reason why you can't agree to Aunt Fiona's demands!" I fired back, keeping my voice just as low, but my hands trembled.

"In the six months when Grandma kept getting hospitalized, how many times did Uncle Michael visit her? And when he did, how long did he even bother to stick around? Who paid for all her hospital bills?"

"Shut up!" Mom dragged me toward the door, her strength rather shocking for a 50-year-old woman. "Michael's your uncle! How can a niece talk about her uncle like that?"

She kept yanking on me until we were outside the funeral hall. The hallway was chilly, and the fluorescent lights overhead hummed softly.

"Mom, I'm not trying to fight him for the house. I just think it's unfair!" I declared.

"What's this nonsense about fairness? We're a family! Fairness isn't something we should be concerned about!" Mom sounded completely worn. "Your grandma has acted this way my whole life. I've come to terms with it."

Staring at Mom's expression, I suddenly found myself at a loss for words. She was 50 years old. Most of her hair had turned gray, and her crow's feet looked like they'd been carved into the corners of her eyes. Her hands were callused from having worked as a housekeeper for decades.

She'd gone through her entire life without ever fighting for herself.

I bit my lip, turned around, and walked back into the funeral hall. Grandma's body lay inside the casket, the makeup making her look better than she did when she was still alive.

Some of her belongings had been placed beside the casket. There were a few sets of old clothing, a string of prayer beads, an old radio, and an emerald bracelet.

Grandma had worn that bracelet for more than three decades. For as long as I could remember, I saw it on her wrist all the time. It was a vivid shade of green with great clarity. She said Grandpa had bought it with two months' salary when he was young.

She'd never let anyone else touch it.

I reached out. The moment my fingertips brushed the cold surface of the emerald, a voice rang out in my head. The sound didn't come from my ears. It poured directly into my consciousness, and it was Grandma's voice.

"The house should go to Monica. Michael is a terrible son. He hit me! Fiona is no better. She took the bank card for the account with my pension payouts. She said she was just keeping it safe for me, but when I got sick, she didn't let me have my medication on time.

"I wanted to tell Monica, but Michael said that if I did, he'd make sure Randall would never take care of me. I'm scared… I'm scared no one will look after me… Monica can have the emerald bracelet… It's the only thing I can leave to her…"

I jerked my hand back, my blood running cold.

Uncle Michael hit Grandma? And Aunt Fiona took Grandma's pension payouts? Grandma didn't even get to have the medication she needed after she got sick?

Grandma never breathed a word of this to Mom before.

Standing next to the casket, I gripped the emerald bracelet once more, my nails digging so deeply into my palm that it hurt.

Uncle Michael was still crying his heart out in the funeral hall. Aunt Fiona was supporting him with a concerned expression.

As I stared at them now, I felt a tight heaviness in my chest—like I had a boulder crushing down on me.

I said in my head, "Don't worry, Grandma. I'll help Mom get the house and everything she rightfully deserves."