Turning a Life Around

Turning a Life Around

Gerald swam to the surface of consciousness. As he lay there, he began to put the moment into context. He was in a hired car Sally had sent. He’d used gin and pills to get through the trip in as unconscious a state as possible. It apparently worked.

He was leaning against the window, a scratchy, complimentary blanket scrunched up to his ears, not wanting to move, not even open his eyes. The car was stopped, obviously not at their destination or he would have been woken. Reaching up to scratch his nose, it seemed cold. He couldn't hear the car running either. Maybe they were refueling. He really didn’t care; he’d rather go back to sleep.

But he'd been awake long enough for thoughts to drift in. The trip, and the reason for it, exciting him. Grandfather was dead. Gerald smiled to himself. How often he’d wished the old coot would kick off. He was going home, to be rich! No more handouts from his goodie-two-shoes sister. He’d own half of everything, he could finally live the wonderful life he deserved, travel, gambling, women! Sally couldn’t stop him, nobody could! It was his money now.

Smiling, he nodded back into unconsciousness just as the car began to move. The bus that hit them started sliding, pushing the car the rest of the way over the embankment. It sailed out freely toward the canyon floor with it’s two unconscious occupants.

Sally was waiting excitedly for Gerald to arrive. She loved her brother and was sure he would want to run the company with her. She’d talk to him as soon as he arrived. He could finally make something of himself. She just didn’t know how she was going to tell him that Grandfather had cut him out of his will.