The Accounts

It took two months to receive the notarized form appointing me executor of the estate. I'd been sitting in wait, unable to act. But now able to move forward, I found myself even more perplexed.

I started with the personal accounts—the joint checking which he’d never used. I found the debit card tucked away in his filing bin, still adhered to the original mailer.

I moved on to business. I sat in the bank beneath the fluorescent lights for hours, fingering through the statements while the banker sat by the phone on hold. The elevator music emanating through the cubicle. Every few pages I’d erupt in laughter—the banker looking up at me uncomfortably. “The audacity,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. The account was largely drained—a measly crumb of the funds his grandfather had given him remained.