I knocked.
No answer.
When I went inside, I found Susan sitting on the kitchen floor, leaning against the wall.
She was so weak she couldn’t even stand.
At the hospital, the doctor pulled me aside.
“She can’t live alone anymore.”
We called her relatives.
Tom didn’t answer.
Lisa said she was busy with her children.
Another relative promised to come the following day.
Nobody came.
Two days later, I brought Susan to my house.
I turned my spare bedroom into her room. I organized her medication by the hour, learned how to prepare the foods she could still eat, and woke up several times during the night to make sure she was okay.
When her family finally learned where Susan was, their first question wasn’t about her health.
“Has she signed anything?”
Then they asked about the house.
Her bank accounts.
Her will.
And a few days later, they showed up at my door.
