The moment I saw my brother cruising around in a shiny red convertible, I knew something was off. Little did I know, that car held the key to a betrayal I never saw coming — and a plan Gran had set in motion long before she was gone.
My name is Juniper. I’m 26 now, and I’ve been living out of state for four years. Honestly, it was the best decision I ever made: to get away from my family and from all the hurt that came with it.
It wasn’t like I ever felt a part of them. My parents had always favored my older brother, Maverick. You could say he was the golden child, but that doesn’t even cover it. Growing up, I was just… there. The “spare,” as Gran used to joke, though there was always a tenderness in her voice when she said it.
That’s part of why I left. Well, that, and Noel — my boyfriend. He convinced me it was time to live for myself, to create something outside the shadows of my family.
We packed up our little car, and I moved with him to the city, away from my parents, Maverick, and all the memories.
“Noel, I swear, I just couldn’t stay there anymore,” I had told him over dinner once. I still remember the way he’d smiled at me from across the table, his hand reaching out to grab mine.
“You don’t need to explain it to me again, June. You did the right thing,” he had reassured me, squeezing my hand. “You deserve more than being the second choice.”
Even after four years away, I barely spoke to my family. Calls came less frequently, texts became a rare formality. My parents? They didn’t seem to mind, honestly. It was like I had just faded out of their lives. The only one who stayed in touch was Gran.
She was the one person in my family who made me feel like I mattered. When I was younger, she’d sneak me chocolate bars when my mom wasn’t looking, or call me on the phone late at night just to hear how my day went.
Gran didn’t care if it was boring or if I felt like my life was a mess. She just listened.
And then, one day, I found out she died. Accidentally. No call, no message, nothing. Can you believe that? I was scrolling through Facebook, of all places, and saw a post from an old family friend. Gran’s picture. A date and a “Rest in Peace” note.
I couldn’t breathe. I stared at my phone, waiting for things to make sense, but they didn’t. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest.
I dropped my phone on the table, stood up, and muttered, “Gran’s gone.”
Noel looked up from the couch. “What? What do you mean she’s gone?”
“She died. No one even told me.” I could feel the burn of tears, but it was more than sadness; it was anger and perhaps betrayal. “How could they not tell me?”
Noel was up in a second, pulling me into a hug, but it didn’t make any sense. Why hadn’t my parents called me? Even Maverick. Nothing.
I booked a flight back home that same night.
I didn’t care what it took — I had to visit Gran’s grave. I had to say goodbye, at least on my own terms. The next morning, I found myself walking through my hometown, the place I hadn’t seen in years, the place I had fought so hard to escape. Everything was as I remembered, except one thing.
I blinked, stunned. “The… what?”
As I stood at the corner of the street near the cemetery, I spotted something that made my blood run cold. My brother, Maverick, cruising by in a shiny red convertible.
Maverick? The one who still worked as a cashier, who could barely make ends meet? He was driving a red convertible that looked like it cost more than his entire life savings.
My stomach churned. Something wasn’t right.
Later that day, I found myself standing by Gran’s grave, the soft rustle of the trees the only sound around. The earth was still fresh, and I couldn’t shake the knot in my stomach. Gran was really gone. I hadn’t been able to say goodbye properly: no chance to tell her how much she meant to me.
The pain of finding out about her death through a Facebook post still stung like an open wound.
As I knelt beside the grave, I heard footsteps approaching. I looked up to see Mr. Anderson, Gran’s best friend. He was a kind, older man, always hovering around Gran, helping her with anything she needed. His face was somber as he approached.
“Juniper, I’m so sorry,” he said softly, standing beside me. “Your Gran… she was a one-of-a-kind lady.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “She really was. I just wish I had more time with her.”
He nodded, his eyes distant. Then, after a moment of silence, he turned to me and asked, “Did you get the $20,000 she left you?”
I blinked, stunned. “The… what?”
Mr. Anderson’s brow furrowed. “Your Gran. She mentioned in her will that she set aside $20,000 for you. I just assumed you knew.”
My heart dropped. Suddenly, the red convertible Maverick was driving made all the sense in the world. The anger that had been simmering inside me boiled over. “No,” I muttered, standing up, fists clenched at my sides. “I didn’t know.”
Mr. Anderson’s face paled. “Oh, Juniper, I’m so sorry.”
But I wasn’t listening anymore. I had to get to Maverick’s trailer. Now.
I stormed back to my car, my mind racing. Maverick, who could never hold down a steady job, was suddenly driving around in a flashy car, and I hadn’t thought twice about it? Of course, it was my money. The money Gran left me — the one person in my family who actually cared about me — and he stole it without a second thought.
When I pulled up to Maverick’s trailer, I was ready for a full-blown confrontation. But what I saw stopped me in my tracks. There, crumpled in the driveway, was the red convertible, completely wrecked. The front bumper was smashed, the windshield shattered, and the tires looked flat, like the car had been in a serious accident.
And there, standing in the doorway of his beat-up trailer, was Maverick. He was leaning on crutches, a cast covering his leg, and his face was bruised, a mess of cuts and scrapes.
Karma had already caught up with him.
I walked up to him, my anger momentarily replaced by shock. “Maverick, what the hell happened?”
He shifted uncomfortably on his crutches, his eyes darting away from mine. “It’s… it’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” I gestured at the totaled car. “That doesn’t look like nothing. What did you do? And why did you take Gran’s money, Maverick?”
He winced, knowing he couldn’t avoid it any longer. “I didn’t mean for it to go like this, Juniper. I… I just thought I’d borrow it. I was gonna pay you back. But then I saw that car, and…”
“Borrow it?” I was incredulous. “You don’t just ‘borrow’ twenty thousand dollars that wasn’t left to you. Gran left that money for me, and you took it like it was nothing. And now look at you. This is karma, Maverick. This is what you deserve.”
Maverick opened his mouth to protest, but I wasn’t finished. “You’ve always taken everything. My parents’ attention, their affection: everything was always about you. But this? This was different. This was from Gran, the one person who actually gave a damn about me, and you stole it.”
Maverick hung his head. “I messed up, okay? I thought—”
“You thought what?” I snapped. “That I wouldn’t find out? That I didn’t deserve what Gran left me?”
He didn’t have an answer. We stood there in silence, the weight of everything hanging in the air. Then, just as I was about to turn and leave, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Mr. Clearwater, Gran’s lawyer.
“Mr. Clearwater?” I answered, keeping my eyes on Maverick.
“Juniper, I’ve been going over your grandmother’s will,” Mr. Clearwater said. His voice was calm and steady, as though he knew I needed some reassurance. “There’s something you should know. Your grandmother predicted this might happen.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.
“She knew Maverick might try to take the money, so she had a plan in place. The $20,000 was only a part of her estate. The rest of it — her house, her savings, her investments — it’s all yours, Juniper. She left everything to you.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Everything?”
“Yes, everything,” Mr. Clearwater confirmed. “Your grandmother was very clear. She wanted to ensure you were taken care of, so you wouldn’t have to rely on anyone.”
Tears pricked at my eyes, but they weren’t just from sadness. Gran had known. She saw this coming, every bit of it, and she had protected me in the way only she could. Even in death, she was still looking out for me: still showing me that I mattered.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I looked at Maverick. “I hope that convertible was worth it, Maverick. I hope you enjoyed the ride.”
“Juniper, I—” he started, his voice shaky.
I held up my hand, cutting him off. “Don’t. I’m done with excuses, Maverick. Just save it.”
Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, broken in more ways than one. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like the forgotten sibling. Gran had made sure of that.
If this story touched your heart, take a look at another exciting read: When my grandmother asked us to come to her place to celebrate her birthday, I didn’t expect my family to do what they did! Grandma was hurt by their actions, and I wasn’t willing to let my family go unpunished. So I came up with a plan that put them in their place!
Matthew Perry has reportedly died. The “Friends” actor was 54
Actor Matthew Perry, famously known for the role of Chandler Bing in the iconic show Friends, was found dead Saturday in a hot tub at his Los Angeles home, law enforcement has reported.
Spokesperson of the LA Fire Department reported that first responders arrived at Perry’s home at about 4 p.m. regarding a “water emergency” of an unknown type, but did not name the actor. Sadly, upon arrival, they discovered Perry’s unresponsive body. According to them, there were no drugs of any type at the scene. At the time being, no foul play is suspected.
A representative of the actor hasn’t issued any comments regarding the tragic incident.
The investigation over Perry’s passing is still ongoing and the cause of death remains unknown. It will be determined by the Los Angeles County coroner’s office at a later date.
“We are devastated by the passing of our dear friend Matthew Perry,” Warner Bros. Television Group, which produced “Friends,” said in a statement to The Times. “Matthew was an incredibly gifted actor and an indelible part of the Warner Bros. Television Group family. The impact of his comedic genius was felt around the world, and his legacy will live on in the hearts of so many. This is a heartbreaking day, and we send our love to his family, his loved ones, and all of his devoted fans.”
“We are incredibly saddened by the too soon passing of Matthew Perry,” NBC, which aired the series for all 10 seasons, said in its own statement to The Times. “He brought so much joy to hundreds of millions of people around the world with his pitch perfect comedic timing and wry wit. His legacy will live on through countless generations.”
Saturday evening yellow-and-black LAPD crime scene tape blocked off the entrance to Blue Sail Drive, a tony street just off the Pacific Coast Highway at the crest of a hill with sweeping views of the Pacific Ocean.
Shortly after 7 p.m., as multiple helicopters whirred overhead, Perry’s mother, Suzanne, and her husband, broadcaster Keith Morrison, joined the journalists and LAPD officers on the scene. Morrison declined to comment. An LAPD officer at the scene said he had no information and that he did not know when any would be forthcoming.
Peter, a neighbor of Perry’s on Bluesail Drive who declined to give his last name Saturday evening, said he only spoke to the actor once, for five minutes, and that he was “very pleasant” and a “nice guy.”
“It’s shocking,” Peter said as he waited for the LAPD, who had barred journalists from passing the police tape, to approve him for entry. “He’s been redoing this house forever and he seemed fine. It’s very sad.”
Leo, another neighbor who declined to give his full name, said he was home when an ambulance arrived at Perry’s house Saturday afternoon. He declined to say whether paramedics tried to revive Perry or if a body was removed from the premises.
“I was shocked,” he said. “It was very disturbing and sad after all these years.”
Perry was one of his favorite actors, Leo said, and the funniest member of the “Friends” cast.
“I encountered him once and he was very, very friendly. More so than I thought,” Leo said. “It’s definitely a tragedy, especially at such a young age,” he added. “I was very heartbroken to see what happened.”
(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
Perry, the son of actor John Bennett Perry and Suzanne Marie Langford, onetime press secretary of Canadian Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau, was born in 1969 and grew up between Montreal and Los Angeles after his parents separated when Perry was 1.
He got his start as a child actor, landing guest spots on “Charles in Charge” and “Beverly Hills 90210” and playing opposite River Phoenix in the film “A Night in the Life of Jimmy Reardon” in the 1980s and early 1990s.
But his big break came when he was cast in “Friends” — originally titled “Friends Like Us” — a sitcom about six single New Yorkers navigating adulthood that premiered on NBC in 1994.
The series soon became a juggernaut, the anchor of the network’s vaunted Thursday-night “Must-See TV” lineup, and turned Perry and his castmates Jennifer Aniston, Courteney Cox, Lisa Kudrow, Matt LeBlanc and David Schwimmer into mega-stars almost overnight. At its high-water mark — for a 1996 Super Bowl episode and the 2004 series finale — the series could notch more than 50 million live viewers; by its end, cast members were earning more than $1 million an episode.
As Chandler Bing, the handsome, wisecracking roommate of LeBlanc’s Joey Tribbiani and, later, love interest of Cox’s fastidious Monica Geller, Perry distinguished himself in a crackling ensemble cast. With his dry delivery he created a catchphrase with a mere turn of inflection, based on banter he’d shared with childhood friends: Could he be any more Chandler?
Soon, he was attached to major stars like Julia Roberts and appearing in prominent films such as 1997 rom-com “Fools Rush In,” opposite Salma Hayek, and 2000 ensemble mob comedy “The Whole Nine Yards” with Bruce Willis.
There was a dark side to the life of one of television’s most beloved funnymen, however. In his 2022 memoir, “Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing,” Perry recounted his lifelong struggle with addiction to alcohol and opioids. He wrote that he had his first drink at 14, but didn’t recognize the signs of alcoholism until 21. Since then, he estimated, he’d spent more than $7 million on efforts to get sober, including multiple stints in rehab. His substance abuse also led to a number of serious health issues, including a five-month hospitalization in 2018 following a colon rupture that left him, he wrote, with a 2% chance to live through the night.
And it was fueled, he acknowledged during a “Friends” reunion special in 2021, by the pressure to land the joke in front of a live studio audience night after night.
(NBC / NBCUniversal via Getty Images)
“Nobody wanted to be famous more than me,” Perry told The Times in April, discussing “Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing” at the Festival of Books. “I was convinced it was the answer. I was 25, it was the second year of ‘Friends,’ and eight months into it, I realized the American dream is not making me happy, not filling the holes in my life. I couldn’t get enough attention. … Fame does not do what you think it’s going to do. It was all a trick.”
Perry was remembered on Saturday by friends and collaborators such as Selma Blair, Paget Brewster, Morgan Fairchild and Mira Sorvino as a singular comic talent and kind soul.
Perry’s “Friends” co-star Maggie Wheeler, who played his on-again, off-again girlfriend Janice on the hit show, shared a sweet tribute on Instagram.
“What a loss. The world will miss you Mathew Perry,” she wrote. “The joy you brought to so many in your too short lifetime will live on. I feel so very blessed by every creative moment we shared.”
He was also memorialized by Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, Pierre’s son and one of Perry’s childhood friends.
“Matthew Perry’s passing is shocking and saddening,” Trudeau wrote on X. “I’ll never forget the schoolyard games we used to play, and I know people around the world are never going to forget the joy he brought them. Thanks for all the laughs, Matthew. You were loved — and you will be missed.”
Though Perry estimated he had relapsed “60 or 70 times” since first getting sober in 2001, he maintained a steady presence on American television, playing key parts in backstage dramedy “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip” and therapy sitcom “Go On,” and making a steady stream of guest appearances on acclaimed shows such as “The West Wing” and “The Good Wife.”
Since his near-death experience in 2018, Perry had found solace in friends, frequent games of pickleball and, especially, writing. Though producing “Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing” had forced him to relive his darkest moments, it also connected him to “all the sufferers out there”: “I had a story to tell, a story that could really help people,” he wrote. “And helping others had become the answer for me.”
Indeed, for all his success as an actor and, more recently, as a bestselling memoirist, Perry told The Times in April that his work was not the center of what he hoped would be his legacy.
Pressed to name how he’d like to be remembered, he said: “As a guy who lived life, loved well, lived well and helped people. That running into me was a good thing, and not something bad.”
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