Life List

“Gregor Stefka is a…  difficult client, to put it mildly,” Paul Owens reminded her, with a condescending eyebrow.  Perhaps a bit resentful at being saddled with a Junior associate.  No matter. All the glory would fall in his lap, like it always did.

Annaleah Velky didn’t need to be warned.  She paid attention around the Law Offices of Abram & Zachary, LLP.  It was the small details, remembered in the boardroom at sweaty emergency conferences, that got you noticed.  Standing out in a sea of greedy wallpaper faces was how one got ahead.

“And one of our best clients,” she reminded him, with the perfect pinch of reproach in her husky, saxophone voice.  That, along with her strawberry hair and elf-like body, had the horny old men playing with a significant handicap.  Paul had already looked three times at her ass in the pocket-less, heather-grey suit pants with the purposefully high-cut jacket.

“Who knows what he’s cooking up for this -- his Grand Finale.”  His eyes were straightforward now.  All business as they approached the grimy burrito bar on the borders of Old City.

Why did the rich eccentrics always insist on meeting in shit-holes like this?  To show off their connection to the ‘common man,’ she assumed.

Gregor was seated outside.  Deep in thought, he ignored their approach.  The cast iron filigree table had one empty glass and one half full of what looked like strong beer.  It was eight-thirty in the morning.

“They offer everything on the menu, all day.  Highly recommend the red chile pork tamales.” Gregor spoke softly in a way that carried over their hardened leather soles clacking on the rain-soaked cobblestones and the bustle of the working-class part of the city.  “Alcohol too.  Get yourself some booze, for god’s sake, Paul.”

“No, that’s okay.”  Paul checked his watch to emphasize the sin.  “Let’s talk about why you called us out…  here.”  

Gregor frowned without moving his face -- that was an admirable skill.  

“Get for you something, Senor?  Senorita?”  A very dark Mexican woman in apron interrupted.  She was all authentic, with sloping Mayan forehead and rope sandals to boot.

“A coffee for me, please.  Black, with three sugars.”  Paul spoke slowly, but it came across as aloof rather than considerate.

“I’ll have one of those,” Anna pointed to Gregor’s now empty glass.

“And another for me, Rosa,” Gregor toned with a noticeable grin, eyes of grey meeting her own jade-green windows warmly.  Paul was such a tool.

Gregor reached into a stained leather satchel that looked like it had seen the jungles and mountains of the world, and pulled out two spiral bound pads of small green-lined grid paper. 

He carefully opened them up and laid one in front of each lawyer, saying nothing.  A fine black marker topped each blank sheet of possibilities.  Paul seemed restless, but Anna was enjoying the mystery.

Some workers setting up scaffolds nearby made eyes at her, which she returned magnanimously.  Something firm and warm in her crotch.  A stinky mutt, plunging it’s snout into her nethers for lack of good smells in the street this early. 

She scratched behind its ears with no thought for consequences.  The beer yet untasted was already making her giddy.

“I’ve stopped treatment,” Gregor stated with finality.  With peace, he spoke.

“Are you sure?”  Paul seemed unsure, and Gregor’s reproachful stare cowered him.  “How are you feeling?”  Paul asked, desperate for approval.

“Fantastic, actually!  Thank you.”  Vitality behind his eyes, Gregor turned to watch Rosa serving a young couple holding hands for the simple act of breakfast. 

He was handsome, Anna thought.  Chiseled features, tanned skin, and grey, unruly hair.  His eyes threw her.  They weren’t hungry, like the others -- but softly intimate and…  Kind, betrayed by the way they crinkled at the corners -- behind the weariness, that is.

Nothing was said for a full two minutes, until Rosa arrived with their beer.  Anna sipped first.  Four swallows before she set it down.  Things felt dangerous for some primal reason.

“My children turned out to be trash.  It’s all my fault.  I thought…”  Gregor paused to watch the workers for a moment.  They were quick, efficient -- like ants programmed for survival. 

“I thought I was doing something good for them.  Something righteous. But all I did was turn them into worthless slobs by working so hard to provide their every earthly desire.

“The grandchildren are no better.  They say it skips generations, leap-frogging.  But, that’s only when the parents are poor.  Those prodigy grow up vowing for a better life and it hardens them for victory in the world.  I gave enough to my spawn so much in their lifetime, they could cushion -- and thereby ruin -- their own children as well.”

“What have I done?”  Paul’s mouth opened stupidly at the rhetorical question.  Anna sipped her beer. 

“Ruined them, that’s what.  The more I give, the lazier they get.  Had I not striven so hard to build a world-class company, I could have had it all.  Not only would my children, and their children, but respectable, hard-working folk, but they might actually love me.

“You see, it was all for them!  I never gave two shits about my own comfort, or luxury.  What a fatal error.  How can you know these things?  There’s no god-damned manual for life, is there?”  There was no pause for a response.

“As it is, they do not -- love me, that is.  In fact, they despise me -- for my absence, and my distance -- and for what I have they can never obtain through any avenue except an old man’s charity.”

“We’re gathered here today to remedy that mistake.  What is your name, Daughter?”

“Annaleah.  Anna.”  Under his stare, she no longer felt like a chicken in the fox house.  She was a little girl, looking way, way up to where the beaming face of her father blotted out the sky.

“Anna, Paul…”  He said their names with such affection and care.  The heightened alive-ness of the dying, she supposed.  Or perhaps he was always this way?  Anna wished she could have know him longer.  

“I want you to write down, on that paper, your Bucket List, if you will.  Number the left margin one to twenty-three.  Write down twenty-three things you’ve always wanted to do before you die.  Anything at all -- there are no rules.”

“In your secret hour, between you and the Maker himself, what do you yearn to see and do before blackness envelops your soul forever -- or whatever he has planned for us…”

“Uh, this is highly unprecedented, Sir.”  Paul sputtered.  He was completely out of sorts, and losing his cool.  Something about this exercise was touching a nerve with the middle-aged legal star, B-rated though he was.

“No one, deep in their heart, dreams of doing what we do.  No. It’s just a means to an end.  A way to finance what you really crave, and love.  If money were no object -- if it didn’t exist, or matter -- what would you do with your remaining time on this earth?  

“Our conversation is over until you complete the task, you two.  I’ve got all day, and so do you.  It’s my dime, remember.”  His smile was cool now, and closed to dispute.

Gregor got up and stretched.  Anna was already writing, and ignored their client in her frenzy.  He meandered to the other occupied table to chat with the guests in Spanish, before disappearing into the dark restaurant.

She took a sip of beer at three, and again at eight.  She flagged Rosa at thirteen for another brew.  Whatever the hell was happening, it felt like the moment she’d been dreaming of since lying awake in bed listening to her parents shout over who could break dishes louder in their back-hollow West Virginia trailer.

Gregor returned, looking serene.  From his satchel, he withdrew a small pile of papers and pushed them over.  With the authority and captive audience a billion dollar CEO commands, he spoke.

“I called you here today because I need your services, long after I’m gone.  For my last will and testament, instead of the usual distribution of wealth to heirs -- the thing they are all waiting for -- we’re going to instead play a little game.

“Look at the papers in front of you.  Those are the Lists from each of my three children, and seven grandchildren.  It took some time, and cajoling, and a bit of trickery to get an honest accounting from them all -- but I believe I have it finally.

“As my lawyers, you know my worth -- in dollars, anyway.  Beyond the company, there is a substantial fortune.  As for the former, my shares shall be distributed equally among all the current employees.  Equally, you understand?  No scaling for income, or any horse-shit like that."

Anna was taking notes.  Paul looked even more uncomfortable.  This certainly wasn’t typical.  It fell way outside of his training and preparation.

“Oh, management and the board will cry.  It’s okay.  For my replacement, you shall appoint Robert -- Bobby Jones.  He knows the company, is intelligent, and has an unshakable integrity as rare as pink diamonds.

“As to my fortune, it shall not be given to my descendants, as expected.  Rather, they shall finally earn it -- by completing the tasks on their respective lists.  Take a look.”

Paul was fidgety, agitated.  He shuffled papers confusedly.  Why wasn’t he handling this clearly defined task like any other?  Anna took half the stack from him, and read:

Franklin Stefka…

1. Learn to speak Latin American Spanish -- $25,000
2. Adopt a child from a third-world country -- $300,000
3. Save someone’s life -- $70,000

Anna flipped to the next -- Maria Gagne…

1. Ride the Amazon River by boat -- $10,000
2. Get my Art Degree -- $200,000
3. Sell a painting -- $25,000

The next, Johnny Gagne...

1. Start a Dungeons & Dragons group at the children’s group home -- $90,000
2. Make friends with someone no one likes -- $150,000
3. Write a fantasy novel -- $500,000

“Wow, right?  Don’t you see it?  They are good people.  Despite the indulgence, vanity, and material obsession -- their hearts are still intact.  They see what matters in life.  The adventure, the compassion, and the…  The beauty of it all.  They inwardly yearn for it!

"Beside each item bullet, is a dollar amount.  That’s the payout for completing the task. I’ve calculated each based on the time and money invested.  It’s like a game!  You get rewarded for your achievements.

"You know my youngest grandson?  He’s my favorite.  Gregor, my namesake.  He says, ‘why won’t anybody just pay me to do what I feel like doing?  It’s unfair, Grandpa.’ 

"I’m planning to pay them to do exactly what they want to accomplish in life.  Not only them, you too.

“Paul?  Let me see your list.  Oh, this is pitiful!  What’s wrong with you, man?  ‘Serve my clients to the best of my ability?  Make partner in the firm?’”

“I-- I-- just don’t think this is very appropriate, Sir.”  Paul sputtered.

“What is not appropriate?  You think I should just get it over with?  Write up the standard form?  It’s my money, and I’m paying you to distribute my estate as I see fit.  It’s fairly simple.  What have you got here?”  Gregor picked up Anna’s pad from the middle of the greasy table.

He read, “number one, Get a whole back tattoo.  Two, become a black-belt in Kung Fu.  Three, buy my mother a house.”  He was continued to read in silence, nodding and smiling wider and deeper.

“Anna, this is good.  This is…  Life!  Thank you for opening your heart to my silly chore.  Rosa!”  He called, and she shuffled over happily.  “Can we please get a large platter of the fresh tamales?  Thank you, Dear.”

“Anna…  I’d like you to take over my account.”

Her heart was beating fast, but not in the frightened way.  The buildings, the other tables, Paul’s uncomfortable fidgeting -- was nothing but a blur.  All she could see was the sky-blue in his dying eyes.

“I charge you with distributing my wealth to my heirs according to my wishes.  It will take some personal intrusion into their lives.  You will need to form relationships with each and everyone. 

"I feel you are more than capable of honoring my wishes, Dear.  I am trusting you with my legacy, Anna.  I feel you understand my purpose, and I would like you to manage it.”

“As far as compensation,” he smiled.  She didn’t even have time to think about asking.  “I’m going to put a dollar amount on this list you’ve given me as well.  While you supervise the completion of my family’s dreams, I very much want you to pursue your own.  You will quit the firm, and devote full attention to my prodigy’s redemption.

"You will make more money living your dreams than you ever could in decades playing corporate strip poker.

“I will name you as sole trustee of my estate.  Paul, you can draft the papers for this -- it’s what you are best at, and also requires a third party.  And as for you, my old acquaintance, I hope you can figure out what you really, truly want out of life before it’s too late.”

“Thank you both for your time.”  Gregor got up, downed his beer, and winked directly at Anna.  He walked away with a young man’s vigor while Rosa brought a huge platter of steaming tamales.

They smelled heavenly.  Paul meticulously packed up his things, before standing solemnly for too long.

“Would you mind finding your own ride back to the office?”  He asked, almost beseechingly.

“Of course,” she said, through a mouthful of wonderful flavor.