“Are you there?”
I looked at the debit card in the clear sleeve.
I looked at the forged signature.
I looked at the trust document with my grandfather’s name on it.
Then I answered.
“I’m here.”
He exhaled like a man relieved to have found a door he could still push open.
“This is all a misunderstanding,” he said.
Of course it was.
y father tried to slam shut had never been his to close.
