Natalie happened to run into an old neighbor, who told her that her father's health had taken a turn for the worse.
Her father had harbored a deep resentment toward her ever since she married against his wishes. Still, hearing he was doing poorly, she felt an obligation to see him. Who knew? This might be the last time.
She took some time off work and drove over to his place. When she rang the bell, the door was opened by her younger brother, Mark, who was already forty-six. They exchanged guarded smiles; a chill had settled between them long ago, and like everything else, it was because of their father.
***
Years ago, during a family dinner while their mother was still alive, their father decided to take another sharp jab at Natalie.
"Listen up, kids!" he announced, striking a solemn pose at the head of the table. "I've decided to get my will in order, just in case. I'm leaving the house, the vacation cottage, and the car to Mark. It's a reward for his loyalty and the respect he's always shown me."
Mark was only in his early twenties then. Though he was already married and living on his own, he was still very much under his father's thumb.
"What on earth are you talking about?" their mother asked, looking at her husband in disbelief. "What about Natalie? She has three children to think about. Everything should be split down the middle!"
"Not a chance!" the father snapped. "She has a husband... a real hard worker." He let out a sneering grin. "Let him provide for her."
The truth was, Natalie hadn't been lucky in marriage. Though she had married for love, the spark had died out quickly, and her husband had taken to the bottle. He was constantly being fired for his drinking habits.
"She didn't want to finish college, she ran off to get married just to get away from me, so now she can sleep in the bed she made," the father continued, mocking his daughter. He turned his gaze to his wife. "And if you feel so sorry for her, she can have your parents' old farmhouse out in the country. Let her and that husband of her try to scratch a living out of the dirt."
To be honest, Natalie stopped listening to him halfway through; she had grown numb to his insults long ago. Instead, she watched Mark, and her heart sank at her brother's reaction.
Mark was beaming, struggling to hide a smug, foolish grin. When their eyes met, he gave her a look of pure triumph, as if to say, See? It's all coming to me.
They had hardly spoken since that day. After their mother passed away, they stopped seeing each other altogether.
***
Back in the present, they nodded silently to one another. Mark asked in a low voice, "How did you find out?"
"I ran into Mrs. Gable from next door. Is he really doing that badly?"
"The hospital sent him home. They said there's nothing more they can do and we should prepare for... well, you know. He's sleeping right now, I think."
When Natalie approached her father's bedside, his eyes snapped open as if he had been waiting for her.
"So, you showed up after all," he wheezed in a voice that sounded like grinding gravel. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to see you," Natalie said, shrugging.
"Happy to see me like this, are you?" he started, falling back into his old routine. "Do you think I'm going to get all sentimental because you showed up and change my will?"
Natalie only offered a sad smile and remained silent.
"Don't even hope for it." With a great effort, he raised a trembling index finger and shook it in the air. "I'm not changing a word. Everything goes to Mark. Every single cent. Because he actually respects me."
Natalie wanted to look at her brother, but she was suddenly afraid she would see that same smug smile from years ago.
She sat by the bed for a while longer. Once her father drifted back to sleep, she stood up and beckoned Mark into the kitchen.
"Who's staying with him?" she asked.
"I hired a nurse," Mark replied. "It's expensive, obviously."
"Fine," Natalie nodded. "We split the cost." She pulled several large bills from her purse and held them out to him. "If there's anything left over, it'll help with... you know, the arrangements later."
"Where'd you get this kind of money?" Mark smirked. "Borrow it again? Look, I'll handle the bills. Don't worry yourself."
"Listen to me, Mark." Natalie placed her hand firmly on his shoulder and, for the first time in years, looked him dead in the eye. "Maybe you really are afraid I'm going to fight you for the inheritance. Don't be. I don't want a thing from him. But I am his daughter, and I intend to be of some use during his final days. Do you understand me? Good. I'm leaving now. Keep me posted."
She took one last look into her father's room and walked out of the apartment that no longer felt like home.
That night, her father passed away.
***
On the forty-first day, Mark called her.
"Hey, I've finally started dealing with the estate stuff," he said, his voice sounding strangely apologetic.
"And?" Natalie asked, surprised. "Why are you calling me? You know what the will says. You handle it."
"I thought I knew," Mark said. "But I only actually got my hands on the physical document today. Aunt Catherine had been holding onto it."
"I'm asking you again, why involve me?" Natalie's voice was tinged with irritation.
"Because the will isn't what Dad said it was. He didn't leave it all to me. He actually split everything exactly fifty-fifty between us."
There was a long, heavy silence.
"Are you there?" Mark asked. "Why aren't you saying anything?"
"I'm here," Natalie whispered. "But for some reason, this doesn't make me happy. Not at all."
"I get it... and look, my wife and I talked. we don't want our share. This whole inheritance thing is why everything between us got so messed up. It's not right. Besides, you've got the kids to worry about, and your husband's health is failing. I'm signing my share over to you. Do you hear me?"
Silence fell over the line again.
"Come on, Sis, talk to me," Mark urged. "Why are you so quiet?"
"I can't talk right now," Natalie choked out into the receiver. "I'm crying."
"Why are you crying?" Mark's own voice wavered.
"Because that's the first time you've called me 'Sis' in twenty years. That's why."
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