Page 19 of Billionaire Grump

Closing my eyes again, I start the little gratitude practice I started doing soon after we moved into this apartment. Because I am grateful. I also read a book that says thoughts have an actual frequency. You’re creating cosmic waves with your thoughts. You attract or deflect things by thinking about them either positively or negatively. According to the book, you’re creating your own reality with whatever thoughts you spend the most time thinking.

I found this wildly intriguing. What if it’s true?

So I figured it couldn’t hurt to spend a few minutes a day being grateful for the things I already have and also for the things I want to achieve, sort of preemptively. Maybe if I’m grateful enough, I’ll attract good things and all my dreams will come true.

Sure.

But I push the little kernel of cynicism out of my head. It’s useless to me.

I concentrate instead on five things I’m grateful for. I do this every morning before I get out of bed.

The strange thing is: it works. I end up talking myself into a frame of mind and it begins to act like a self-fulfilling prophecy after a while, which feels almost magical. So I’ve kept it up.

So I start with the obvious. These things sometimes take on their own momentum.

I’m grateful we live in this awesome, fabulous apartment. Josh and I finally have our own rooms—that was way overdue—and there’s a balcony. I love being able to grow my own plants. And I love that we’re not living in a dingy basement apartment with our dying mother and our aunt who helped us but never really fully enjoyed having us live with her. I can’t blame her. We were a mess and it was hard. And then having her sister get sick and Josh was a handful sometimes—okay, most of the time—it can’t have been easy. I’m glad she’s happy in California now, even if we hardly ever hear from her. I guess she had enough of us and was glad to move on.

I hear the front door slam and a banging noise. Josh must be home.

Oh my gosh, I’m so fucking grateful Josh got into Columbia. I mean, holy hell! That’s huge. Mom, you’d be so proud. I know you can see him. I know you’d love the person he’s becoming. Even if he’s still a surly seventeen-year-old most days, you can see the good man in him starting to peel back its layers. I love that he’s on track to achieve everything he’s capable of.

More banging. The fridge door slams.

I’m grateful I get to play my music for people who appreciate it. The show last night was one of the best I’ve ever played. I’m grateful that it was sold out and that I made money from doing what I love.

What else?

I’m grateful that people came up to me after the show and told me how much they enjoyed it. Seven different guys asked me for my number. Even if I didn’t give it to any of them, I guess it’s nice to get noticed in that way. Not that any of them really stood out as someone I wanted to talk to again. And of course I’d never bring a guy back here when Josh was here. I mean, how awkward would that be? Plus he’s six-feet or something now and sort of protective of me, so the thought of something going wrong or them not getting along makes me cringe. But it would be nice to meet someone…someday. I’ve been too busy lately but I hope it’ll happen. Once Josh starts college, I’ll have more time and a little more space.

How many is that? Four. I need one more.

I guess I’m grateful—no, I am grateful—I went out to Connecticut last weekend. Even if the whole thing sucks and was a total disaster. I’m glad I got a final answer from him. His no-show spoke volumes and I’m grateful it’s now over. No more wondering. We can have some closure now and move on. I’m grateful he at least donated his DNA (ew) and stuck around long enough to give me Josh. Goodbye, Dad. And good riddance. Have a nice life.

I take a deep, restorative breath. Then I open my eyes and climb out of bed, doing a few quick yoga stretches on the mat in my room by the windows. I can see my plants out there and I am grateful. This shit works.

Then I put on a short silk kimono over the bralette and boy shorts I slept in, tying it. I grab my phone and head out to the kitchen.

Josh is sitting at the table, scrolling on his phone and drinking directly out of the orange juice carton again.

“Morning, Josh. You can finish that because no one else will be drinking out of it.”

“Hey, Ive.” He’s in a good mood. “How’d last night go?”

“Really well. That venue is amazing. It’s small but has great acoustics. And it’s a cool atmosphere.”

“Awesome.”

I study him for a few seconds, trying to get a read on why he’s in such a good mood this morning. Usually he’d grunt at me or give me some kind of non-answer.

Then I notice he’s wearing a new hoodie. A nice one. And there’s a bag sitting on the chair with the end of a white box sticking out of it.

With an Apple logo on it.

“Josh?”

“Yeah?” He takes a bite of the bagel he’s eating.

“You got a new laptop?”