Two hundred dollars of sushi and drinks.
Chloe spent half the evening complaining about Ethan’s attorneys.
She never once asked how I was doing.
Then came the spa idea.
I declined.
Mom sighed.
“Leo, she needs positive experiences with men right now.”
I almost asked whether a massage performed by strangers qualified as a positive experience with men.
I kept that thought to myself.
Then came the apartment.
Mom called on a Tuesday evening.
“Chloe found something.”
“What?”
“An apartment.”
“Good.”
“She really needs her own space.”
“Okay.”
“It’s downtown.”
Of course it was.
“Mom, what’s the problem?”
“The deposit.”
I closed my laptop.
“How much?”
“Four thousand.”
I laughed because I genuinely thought she was joking.
She was not.
“Four thousand dollars?”
“It includes the first month and building fees.”
“Then she should find somewhere cheaper.”
Mom became offended.
“Leo.”
“What?”
“She has been through enough.”
“So she requires a luxury apartment?”
“It isn’t luxury.”
I looked it up later.
Rooftop pool.
Fitness center.
Concierge.
Valet dry cleaning.
Definitely not luxury.
“She needs a fresh start,” Mom continued.
“She has a job.”
“Legal costs are draining her.”
“So maybe Dad should stop paying her car lease and she can use that.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“No, Mom, four thousand dollars is not a small amount.”
“You make good money.”
That sentence irritated me instantly.
“It’s still my money.”
Silence.
Then the emotional artillery.
“She’s your sister.”
“I know.”
“If this were you, she would help.”
That was not true.
Three years earlier, my appendix ruptured.
I spent two nights in the hospital.
Chloe did not visit because she had tickets to a wine festival.
She texted:
Feel better!
With a red heart.
Mom apparently forgot.
“She is barely holding herself together,” Mom said.
“And you’re talking about money.”
I thought about Japan.
I had been saving for almost two years.
Tokyo.
Kyoto.
Osaka.
A week of wandering through places I had wanted to see since college.
I had nearly enough.
Then Mom started crying.
Actual crying.
“Leo, I don’t know what has happened to this family.”
I surrendered.
I transferred four thousand dollars.
Chloe responded fourteen minutes later.
👍
That was the entire thank you.
A thumbs-up.
I stared at the screen for nearly a minute.
Something about that tiny yellow hand bothered me more than if she had said nothing.
Still, I told myself it was over.
One emergency contribution.
Family.
Done.
Two weeks later, I learned what I had actually financed.
It happened in a sports bar downtown.
My friend Gabe and I were watching football.
I was halfway through my second beer when someone stopped near our booth.
“Leo?”
I looked up.
The man was familiar.
Early thirties.
Dark hair.
I remembered him vaguely from Chloe’s wedding.
“Yeah?”
“I’m Nolan.”
Then I placed him.
Ethan’s friend.
One of the groomsmen.
“We met at the wedding.”
“Right.”