I convinced myself that Leo didn’t understand responsibility. That he expected me to continue carrying everything on my own, while he was completely oblivious to reality.
And the worst thing was that I started to feel betrayed by him too.
By noon, I had made a decision.
If Leo didn’t want to help, then maybe it was time for him to leave.
Just for the sake of explanation.
My hands were shaking as they carried empty boxes into his room.
Every movement was painful.
I hated myself for doing it, but at the same time I felt strangely justified.
I folded the clothes mechanically.
Packaged books.
Cleaned shelves.
Then I noticed the carry-on bag tucked under his bed.
Black canvas. Zipper closure. A small paper tag attached to the handle.
My name carefully written above.
Clara.
Confused, I slowly pulled it out.
Inside was a bank savings book.
I opened it.
And immediately he fell silent.
Small deposits fill page after page.
Fifty dollars. Twenty dollars. Eighty dollars.
Small quantities have been added steadily over the years.
Thousands of dollars in total.
See more on the next page
My throat tightened painfully.
Under the deposit book was a folded birthday card.
My hands were shaking as I opened it.
The writing on the inside was Leo’s.
I know Dad was worried about what would happen to you if he didn’t make it. So I started saving a long time ago. I wanted to take care of you like you both took care of me.
Tears immediately blurred the words.
I slowly sat down on the edge of the bed and continued reading.
Leo explained that he had taken on extra shifts, saved up money for his birthday, left without things he wanted, and silently built a financial cushion for me, after secretly overhearing doctors warning his father that his illness was worsening.
