My mother is one of those people that have more money than they can ever spend but never worked a day to deserve it. No one knows where it came from, I asked my father once but he brushed the question aside and started talking about airplanes.
The little I know about her background (I never asked, she never told me) is that she escaped from Russia in her early teens and left her whole family behind. There's a black and white photo of her father, my grandfather, on her night stand. He's wearing a giant fur hat and a black overcoat, it's snowing and there's something in his eyes. If I didn't know better I'd say it looks like fear.
We attended a dinner party once, I was eleven or twelve and mother bragged about me wanting to become a lawyer. Afterwards, in the cab, I told her I wouldn't want to be a lawyer even if my life depended on it. "Oh, it does", she said melodramatically, placing her hand firmly on my shoulder. "So what is it you do" I asked, knowing it was a delicate subject. She took her eyes off me, put on her white leather gloves and uttered (for the first time) the theme of our future relationship:
"You disappoint me."