Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Do better.
Shut up the voices in your head and become what you envision for the world. I loved my mom and dad; now, my burden’s heavy.” He moves to the side of the stage. “So, as the heir to my family legacy, I’ve chosen to donate two million dollars to Hearts For Home, an independent foster care business that helps place kids in good homes.”
Tears start streaming down my face.
“…Three million dollars to domestic and sexual abuse victims with our city’s largest organization, Keep Me Safe.”
Quinn starts shaking next to me.
I grip his hand harder.
“And finally…” Ambrose smiles. “Another five million…” People gasp. “…to the local college fund for people who need help getting an education, and in the future, I’ll be doing more and more donations. I don’t want the money, I don’t believe in how it was earned, and I don’t believe in keeping all of it. My parents did the best they could, and I vow to do better. I love you, Mom. Thank you for your gift, fly high, and thank you for this…”
I frown.
What’s he talking about?
He pulls out a letter, one I’ve never seen.
Ambrose smiles down at it. “You know what’s funny? I didn’t want to go to the reading of the will at all, I kept this letter for a week, and I finally read it this morning after some friends came and helped me… so now I’m going to read it out loud… and maybe then you’ll understand.”
He clears his throat.
The room is so silent you’d think that we weren’t even allowed to breathe.
“Ambrose,” he starts. “If you’re reading this, something tragic has happened, and what I’ve been told for the last year and a half has actually come to fruition. Stress has been hard, and my heart isn’t the best. I hide it from you the best I can. Your mom tried as well because we wanted you to focus on school, thinking it was easier to appear perfect when the world was crashing down around us. You might be alone, but you won’t always be. Money cannot be your family, but you can use the money to give family to others. My greatest regret, I’m sure, will be that I worked too hard to build an empire—and lacked. Son, time is the only thing in this world people wish they could obtain. It’s the only thing you can’t take more of or give back. It’s structured purposefully to make us cherish what we have and regret what we don’t.”
Ambrose smiles down at the paper.
“Time.”
He smiles again. “Time.”
“Time.” He repeats again. “Exactly thirty-seven seconds passed that I will never get back while writing those last few words. I’ve made mistakes, I hurt you in ways that I’ll never be able to take back, just like time, and it was all out of fear of you finding out, fear of losing it all, when I now realize as my hands shake, as I stare at the door and realize that I might not make it that far—it was you and your mom, my most treasured possessions, the doctor had said if this happens again even an ambulance won’t save me, you see son, when your heart fails you—it often times does not beat again no matter how many times you will it to keep going. I will always have regrets, and the biggest ones I have are the minutes you’d come into my office and beg me to play catch, but you see, I was too busy.”
Ambrose pauses and looks over at me. “I don’t know why I’m writing this and adding a letter to my will. Maybe it’s because I just hit you because of my own frustrations. My own failings, but I’m sitting here at my desk wondering where I went wrong and realize that I valued money over time. I valued perfection over chaos. You may never see this letter, I hope to God you don’t, that I do better and that this is just anxiety, but instead of reaching for my phone, I wanted to reach for you. I love you, son, and I’m proud. Make the world a better place, and when I see you again. Know I love you. I always have. I always will.”
I don’t know what to say; I think back on that night when his dad pointed toward the desk after I ran in there, ready to raise hell.
All his dad kept saying was keep, keep, keep, Ambrose, and when the EMTs came, I ignored his points at the desk and just sat next to him.
I held his hand.
And realized I’d killed him.
But I didn’t.
It wasn’t out of shock.
He was sick.
Ambrose stares across the room at me and nods once as a tear falls from his cheek. “I’ll do my best to not be perfect.”