I bought two plane tickets to Bali the next day. First class, because Grandpa insisted we start our new life in style.
The family exploded when they realized what had happened. Sharon threatened to sue.
Dad finally found his voice, but only to demand his “fair share.” My cousins showed their true colors with a rainbow of creative curse words.
We left anyway, with nothing but our suitcases and the satisfaction of knowing justice had been served.
Now, I’m writing this from a beach chair in Bali, watching Grandpa teach local kids how to build the perfect sandcastle.
He’s got more energy than all of them combined, and his laugh carries across the sand like music. His recovery seems even more miraculous in the tropical sun.
“Pass me another coconut drink, would you, Ellie?” he calls out. “Planning the perfect revenge makes a man thirsty!”
I bring him his drink and sit beside him, watching the sunset paint the sky in colors I never saw back home.
“Was it worth it?” I ask.
“All that planning, pretending to be blind?”
He takes a sip and grins. “Look around, kiddo. You’re smiling.
You’re free. And those vultures back home are probably still arguing about fake money. I’d say that’s worth everything.”
I lean back and close my eyes, feeling the warm breeze on my face.
For the first time in my life, I know exactly what he means about living well being the best revenge.
And you know what? He was right about the practical jokes too.
