I remembered the bucket.
“And Mom came over and said, let me help. Just a little. Just with the mortgage. And I said no. Twice. And then the third time, I had forty-one dollars in my checking account, and the payment was due Monday.” He laughed. It wasn’t a laugh. “So I said yes. And then she came back on Valentine’s Day with that piece of paper.”
“And you signed it.”
“She was crying. She said she needed to know she’d always have somewhere to go. She said her mother di.ed in a nursing home in Toledo that smelled like bleach, because her uncle didn’t want to deal with her. She said she wasn’t going to end up like that. She made me promise.” He finally looked at me. “I thought it was just. Mom stuff. A promise you make your mother. I didn’t think it was a contract.”
