Page 125 - Too Much and Never Enough - Mary L. Trump

Two months after the semester started, my apartment was burgled. All of my electronics, including my typewriter, which was essential for school, were taken. When I called Irwin to see if I could get an advance on my allowance, he refused. My grandfather thought I should get a job, he told me.
The next time I visited my grandmother at the House, I explained the situation to her, and she offered to write me a check. “It’s okay, Gam. I only have to wait a couple of weeks.”
“Mary,” she said, “never reject a gift of money.” She wrote me the check, and I was able to buy a typewriter later that week.
I soon got an angry call from Irwin. “Did you ask your grandmother for money?”
“Not exactly,” I said. “I told her I got robbed, and she helped me out.”
While going through the canceled checks of all of his personal and business accounts, as well as my grandmother’s, as he did at the end of every month, my grandfather had discovered the check my grandmother had written to me, and he was furious.
“You need to be careful,” Irwin warned me. “Your grandfather often speaks of disowning you.”
I got another call from Irwin a few weeks later. My grandfather was angry with me again, this time because he didn’t like the signature with which I endorsed my checks.
“Irwin, you’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m not. He hates the fact that it’s illegible.”
“It’s a signature.”
He paused and softened his tone. “Change it. Mary, you’ve got to play
the game. Your grandfather thinks you’re being selfish, and there may be nothing left by the time you turn thirty.” But I never understood what he meant by “the game”—it was my family, not a bureaucracy.
“I don’t see what I’m doing wrong. I’m getting a master’s degree at an Ivy League university.”
“He doesn’t care.”
“Does Donald know about this?”
“Yes.”
“He’s my trustee. What does he have to say?” “Donald?” Irwin laughed dismissively. “Nothing.”