Self-portrait

Green symbolizes that which I covet most: wealth. Green is also lucky. I have money, but the need for more is insatiable. I crave prominence and distinction. And, with a bit of luck here and there, money always seems to make its way to me. Though I must admit, money is merely the meat, it is the envy of others, the sauce.   

So, I chose green. Manifestation. Pickle-green, because I didn’t want to stray too far away from the dependable grey tones of my five-figure collection. Ah, and what a fine choice. The impeccably crisp, three-piece, tailored suit complemented by my gold watch made me look distinguished. It was very much worth the price. With each compliment, I would appear to be bashful. People should form their own perception of me while I feign an almost endearing reluctance to accept that I am any better than they are.

I intend for them to perceive that I am rich and, of course, much much better.

***

I hate Golf. I hate all sports. I never had the talent to make any money off my athletic ability and deemed it a waste of my time. My strength was studying. It earned me a spot at a private school, away from my siblings. I could study for hours, anything. I felt empowered with each certificate I earned. Though I’d spend hours with my nose buried in notes, books, and additional material, I could never be certain I’d be top of the class. There was Regina always hot on my tail, fighting me tooth and nail for every award. It maddened me because she was an outstanding hockey player yet chose to intrude on my area of brilliance, academics. My limelight was not to be shared. It was not to be risked.

It was Regina who helped me develop “The Safety Net”. During every examination period, I’d fight against exceptional odds to achieve my grades. The first year I realized that Regina might knock me to second, I developed the worst inner ear infection the doctors had seen. I’d seen no doctors, but, for a pretty penny, notes were easy to come by. For dramatic flair, I fell over in class, and twice on the way to the sick room. When that straw-haired troll came second, the general remark was that I had beaten her despite the horrendous ear infection.

The second year, Regina came in hot with her fancy tutors and gaudy twelve-piece highlighter set with three shades of blue.  And, so, my grandmother died.  I sought counselling from many of my teachers, I withdrew in class and spent all my lessons badgering on about the sweet sugar cookies she’d bake in her little apron I’d bought her with my fourth-grade birthday money, embroidered with “World’s Best Grandma”. When I came second, the consensus was that, given the tragedy, it was remarkable that I had even managed to do so well.

“I just hope to make Grammy proud,” I beamed, and looked to the heavens. 

If I was being honest, I would have looked down. The very sight of that wicked woman made me recoil. I was rather relieved when she had passed three years prior. She never made cookies. She smoked like a chimney and swore like a sailor. 

But, she proved useful in the end, I suppose.  Regina fell to the shadows. She’d never succeed, she didn’t have the guile.

The Safety Net. I still use it. For example, today, just before I meet my clients for golf, I will probably sprain my wrist. It will be very unfortunate because, as I explained to them in yesterday’s meeting, I am an avid player with considerable skill.

***

They signed the deal. The commission will be substantial. 

People gravitate toward me in much the same manner as I gravitate toward money. You see, I’ve been gifted with wit and good humor. I am well-versed in many topics.  And, I pay large bills with a devilish wink and a tap of my card.  With each premium whiskey fat Jimmy ordered, I felt my credit cards burn. I kept calculating prices, wondering which credit card would have enough to cover the inebriate’s consumption. In fairness, he had no idea I planned to cover the bill, but I’ve learned that people are more willing to give money to people who already have it. 

Anyway, with the deal done and dusted, I’d be able to cover the repayments more than comfortably. I am not going to get out of golf, though, and I’d have to get a coach. And clubs. Branded and new, not Craigslist. It will come out of my mortgage because it’s an investment. Debra will complain, but I’ll assure her that the return on investment will pay the house up in a few short years. This was good spending. A smile broke across my face. I had to mention my new hobby at tomorrow’s family dinner.

***

“Why are you wearing a suit to dinner?” my brother asked with condescension, his eyes passing between his worn-out tracksuit and my pickle-green suit. It’d be unsuitable to repeat the look at work for some time- one must always look new. It was also a waste not to show it off to the family.

“I came straight from work. Busy day.” I lied, grateful I removed the vest and tie, giving myself a more casual, effortless look. 

It wasn’t a busy day at all. I spent the morning researching golf in my frayed pinstriped pajamas. Later, I went past several stores in search of TaylorMade golf clubs. The price made my stomach turn. An investment, I assured myself.  I only put the suit on before leaving the house. Debra would arrive straight from work and know no better.

Every week, one of us three siblings would host a family-dinner, and I would get the chance to mentally sum up their success, comparing it to my own. 

My sister gave me the most joy.  She was poor. She had recently purchased and refurbished a little florist in a shabby part of town. She used all her savings and assured us that business was promising. I pitied her. I’d never start from the bottom.

Marvin was my thorn. 

He never achieved in school, never graduated from college and spent his younger days getting day-drunk and puking in flower beds. Yet, somehow, he managed to secure a well-paying job in real estate. Though Marvin spoke very little of money, it was clear he wasn’t as unsuccessful as I hoped he would be. Each time he hosted, I took stock of everything new and listened attentively when he spoke of his plans. It kept me ahead. 

Last year, he was very excited to announce that he was going to install a pool. I asked whether he’d like the number of the contractor I was using. 

“I’m not sure he is in your budget, but for a smaller pool, I am sure he wouldn’t charge you as much.”

So now we both have pools. Mine is bigger. I also have a fountain. An investment, I told Debra. It came from the mortgage.

Marvin scoffed when I mentioned my new hobby. My neck burned with feverish rage but I continued to be civil. Arguing with Marvin would be inexpedient. I needed to know about his life, and I really needed him to know about mine.

On the way out, I offered my little sister some money. Just a small gift to show how incredibly proud, and able, I am. She declined.

“I am really doing fine, Scully. Business is steady.”

“I insist. Afterall, I loaned Marvin some cash this week. Don’t tell him I said anything, you know how private he is about money.”

That night, I called my brother, ranting and raving about our sister’s audacity at taking another loan this month.

“No. No. I gave her enough. She was desperate. She asked me not to say anything. You know how defensive she gets with her business. She’d be mortified if you knew how poorly she was doing.”

***

I lay in bed that night, my iPhone screen illuminating my face, transferring funds between my accounts. My three credit cards would pay each other. This month’s commission would cover the house and the overdraft. Debra handles the food and utilities. But, I was still short.

Ping.

…have been pre-approved for a long-term revolving loan…

Like I said, money always seemed to make its way to me.

I must admit, I am excited to start golf. Perhaps, Debra and I could start something a little more… sophisticated… sailing, maybe?

We’d need a boat.