I decided to get to business. I sat opposite him, clasping my hands.
“Look, Dave, we need to talk about the estate. The market is decent right now. I think the best move is to flip the house fast. Sell it ‘as-is.’ I don’t need the cash, obviously, so we can do a 60-40 split. You take the larger share because you stayed here.”
I smiled, a benevolent corporate smile, waiting for him to thank me for my generosity.
David slowly lifted his head. His eyes were dull, completely void of light. He stood up like an old man, walked to a junk drawer, and pulled out a cheap, spiral-bound notebook. It was stained and wrinkled.
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He tossed it onto the table between us. It landed with a heavy thud.
“Read it,” he whispered.
I opened the notebook. It was a care log.
October 12th: Mom didn’t sleep again. She screamed for six hours straight, calling for Michael. She doesn’t remember who I am. Had to change her sheets and clothes five times tonight. She bit my arm when I tried to wash her. I’m bleeding, but I can’t leave her alone to go to Urgent Care.
November 3rd: The money Michael sent covered the mortgage, but not the new heart meds. Insurance denied the claim again. I sold my truck today to pay for the pharmacy. I’ll walk to the grocery store from now on.
