Um senhorio sem coração dá um aviso a uma mulher que não paga o aluguel. Mas quando ele vai à casa da irmã para um jantar em família, ele fica chocado ao encontrá-la lá.
A vida é dura, e se torna ainda mais dura se os corações que nos cercam são feitos de pedra. Diane Salinger sabia sobre a vida. Aos sessenta e dois anos, ela tinha visto muito mais dias escuros do que ensolarados e chorou muitas lágrimas.
Mas Diane não era o tipo de mulher que desistia. Toda vez que a vida a derrubava, ela se levantava, pronta para lutar novamente. Ela havia perdido o marido três anos antes, então um tornado arrasou sua casa. Mas ela apenas pegou as estacas e começou tudo de novo.
Mesmo quando Diane explicou por que estava com o aluguel atrasado, Chris não demonstrou simpatia. | Fonte: Shutterstock.com
Ela pegou suas economias e comprou uma pequena mercearia em uma cidadezinha de médio porte em Michigan. Era perfeita para ela. Uma cidade grande o suficiente para apreciar alguns dos itens exóticos que ela pretendia levar, pequena o suficiente para ser aconchegante e quente.
Aconchegante e caloroso pode descrever a comunidade em geral, mas não o senhorio de Diane, Chris Turkle. Foi de Chris que Diane alugou seu pequeno apartamento a uma curta distância da loja.
Quando as coisas ficam difíceis, é importante estarmos presentes um para o outro.
Até onde isso ia, Diane era a inquilina perfeita. Ela era quieta, não danificava a propriedade e sempre pagava o aluguel em dia. E então, um mês, ela estava com falta.
Chris abriu o dinheiro que havia tirado do envelope na frente de Diane e balançou na cara dela. “Faltam US$ 120, Sra. Salinger.”
A casa de Diane foi destruída por um tornado. | Fonte: Unsplash
Diane corou. “Como eu estava explicando, Sr. Turkle, já que muitas das pequenas empresas têm lutado durante a Covid… Bem, eu estendi crédito para algumas famílias necessitadas… E este mês, estou um pouco sem dinheiro. Mas você sabe que eu sou boa nisso! Eu vou pagar os $120 em duas semanas…”
“Se você está disposta a afundar interpretando Madre Teresa, esse é SEU problema”, Chris retrucou. “Eu, Sra. Salinger, sou um homem de negócios, não uma instituição de caridade! Quero você fora até o fim da semana!”
“Mas, Sr. Turkle…” Diane protestou. “É só por uma semana, e não vai acontecer de novo!”
Diane abriu uma pequena e adorável mercearia. | Fonte: Unsplash
“Aconteceu uma vez, e é o suficiente para mim, Sra. Salinger. Você está FORA.” Chris disse friamente, e ele virou as costas e saiu. Ele se sentiu bastante justificado. Ele tinha visto a mercearia de Diane, e ela fazia bons negócios.
Sempre havia pessoas entrando e saindo com pesadas sacolas de compras cheias de produtos de aparência deliciosa, e sua seção de delicatessen, ele tinha ouvido falar, era extremamente popular. “Falta de dinheiro mesmo!”, ele bufou para si mesmo. “Aproveitar é o que é!”
Chris foi para casa e se preparou para ir jantar na casa de sua irmãzinha. Vanessa era sua irmã favorita, e ele frequentemente se preocupava com ela. Ela havia se casado e se divorciado de um homem que parecia estar constantemente desempregado, e Vanessa trabalhava em dois empregos para sobreviver.
Ele se ofereceu para dar ao filho de 16 anos dela um emprego de fim de semana, mas Vanessa sempre recusava, corando. “Está tudo bem, Chris”, ela dizia. “Eu vou me virar!” Mas Chris tinha visto as sombras escuras sob os olhos dela e o quão fino seu rosto estava ficando.
Um mês, Diane estava com o aluguel atrasado. | Fonte: Unsplash
Era o aniversário do sobrinho, então Chris colocou uma nota de $20 em um envelope e colocou no bolso do paletó. Então ele foi até a porta e andou os três quarteirões até a casa de Vanessa.
Ele bateu na porta, e Vanessa o recebeu com um sorriso feliz. Ela parecia mais relaxada e muito mais feliz. O que quer que ela estivesse cozinhando para o jantar tinha um cheiro delicioso, e sua boca encheu d’água.
“Olá!” ele disse, beijando-a na bochecha. “Onde está o aniversariante?”
“Jogando videogame com Diane!” Vanessa sorriu. “Entre!” Vanessa andou até as escadas e gritou: “Joss, Diane, desçam! É hora do jantar!”
“Quero você fora até o fim da semana!” | Fonte: Unsplash
Para desgosto de Chris, entrou a Sra. Salinger, a inquilina que ele tinha acabado de expulsar de sua propriedade, e ela parecia ter ótimas relações com seu sobrinho e sua irmã! Diane ficou igualmente chocada ao ver Chris, mas ela estava admiravelmente fria.
“Olá”, ela sorriu. “É bom ver você. Eu não sabia que você era irmão da Vanessa…”
Chris corou e limpou a garganta. “Ehr…Sim, minha irmã mais nova…você sabe…”
“Vamos, pessoal”, gritou Vanessa. “O assado vai esfriar!”
Chis ficou chocado ao ver Diana na casa de sua irmã. | Fonte: Pexels
“Assado!”, gritou Joss. “Esse é o meu favorito… Mas mãe, eu sei que você só recebe na semana que vem! Como podemos pagar isso?”
Diane sorriu para Joss e deu um tapinha em sua mão. “Não se preocupe com isso”, ela disse. “O crédito da sua mãe é bom comigo. Isso cheira INCRÍVEL, e eu estou morrendo de fome!”
Em voz baixa, Chris se inclinou e perguntou: “Vanessa é a pessoa que você está ajudando?”
Diane sorriu. “Ela é uma delas”, ela respondeu. “Talvez ela não tenha te contado, mas um dos trabalhos dela não deu certo, então estou apenas ajudando até que ela se recupere.”
Chris sentiu uma onda de vergonha colorir suas bochechas. “Sinto muito por… você sabe… Mas por que Vanessa não vem até mim?”
O jantar foi um assado maravilhoso da loja de Diane. | Fonte: Unsplash
Diane disse gentilmente: “Sabe, todos nós temos nosso orgulho. Vanessa quer se sustentar sozinha e criar seu filho. Ajuda de um amigo é uma coisa — ser um parente pobre pedindo caridade é outra.”
Chris sussurrou: “Vou te dizer uma coisa: de agora em diante, você tem o apartamento pela metade do preço. Pode chamar isso de um investimento no bem-estar da cidade e da minha irmã!”
No final da noite, Chris descobriu que Diane era uma mulher muito adorável e engraçada e que ele gostava muito da companhia dela. Naquela noite, sua percepção de sua comunidade mudou. Ele seguiria o exemplo de Diane. Ele daria uma mãozinha.
Depois daquele jantar, Chris começou a ajudar a comunidade. | Fonte: Unsplash
O que podemos aprender com essa história?
- Quando as coisas ficam difíceis, é importante estar lá um para o outro. Diane estava ajudando discretamente as pessoas mais pobres da cidade vendendo-lhes comida a crédito que ela sabia que eles nunca poderiam pagar.
- Ser capaz de admitir que você está errado e mudar seus caminhos é algo extraordinário. Chris não só percebeu que estava errado sobre Diane, mas também começou a ajudar aqueles que estavam lutando.
Compartilhe esta história com seus amigos. Pode alegrar o dia deles e inspirá-los.
Se você gostou desta história, talvez goste desta sobre uma garota curvilínea que chega a um jantar e descobre que seu noivo está lá com uma mulher assumindo sua identidade.
I Accidentally Found a Hidden Nanny Cam in My Bathroom and Went Pale When I Learned Why My 11-Year-Old Son Put It There
Finding the hidden camera tucked under my bathtub was terrifying, and realizing my son had put it there was even worse. But his tearful explanation made me realize he was on a mission to reawaken a part of me I thought was lost forever.
The jigsaw puzzle on our kitchen table had stayed the same for weeks, and I was getting worried. My son, Drake, and I used to love them, but things were much different now.
A puzzle on a table | Source: Pexels
These days, he would rush straight to his room after school and shut the door firmly behind him. That is… after coming home later than usual.
I stirred the pasta sauce and checked my phone again: 6:45 p.m. Two hours late, just like yesterday. Through the kitchen window, I watched our neighbors walking their dogs and laughing together.
Our house used to buzz with that kind of energy. Now it felt like Drake and I were living in separate worlds, connected only by quick hellos and leftover dinners. Did this happen to all pre-teens?
A woman concerned | Source: Pexels
A few minutes later, the front door creaked open.
“Hey, Mom.” Drake’s voice floated through the hallway, followed by the thud of his backpack hitting the floor.
“Kitchen,” I called out happily. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
He poked his head around the corner. I saw his messy hair covered by a backward baseball cap. Something about his eyes made me feel like my boy was back, even for just a second.
Boy with a backwards baseball cap | Source: Pexels
But they soon darted to the floor when I looked at him. I knew something was going on, but I had no idea how to address it. My boy almost seemed older than his few years.
“Sorry I’m late. Chess club ran long.”
“Chess club?” I raised my eyebrows. “Yesterday it was math tutoring. And Tuesday was yearbook committee.”
“Oh yeah, I do all those now.” He shuffled his feet. “Can I eat in my room? Got tons of homework.”
Math book and notebook | Source: Pexels
I gripped the wooden spoon tighter, accidentally dripping tomato sauce onto the stovetop, and decided enough was enough. “Drake, what’s really going on?” I asked, turning and putting one hand on my hip.
“Nothing! I told you, just busy with school stuff,” he shrugged and moved further into the kitchen. Without meeting my gaze, he grabbed a plate, scooped up some pasta, and disappeared before I could press further.
Pasta dish | Source: Pexels
I sighed and wondered to the heavens for the millionth time if I should intervene. Maybe I wouldn’t get an answer from up above, but I could try to find some of my own.
I checked the hallway, and his door was shut as usual, but he had left his backpack in the living room. It was my chance.
Inside, crumpled between textbooks, I found a piece of paper with an address scrawled in unfamiliar handwriting: “1247 Maple Street. Don’t be late. This is it.”
Backpack on the floor | Source: Unsplash
What was going on? I wondered, horrified.
***
That night, I found myself going through his old baby photos, spread across my bedroom floor like pieces of a life I barely recognized anymore.
There he was, two years old, grinning with spaghetti sauce all over his face. That happy little boy used to tell me everything. Now he barely looked at me.
Toddler covered in spaghetti sauce | Source: Midjourney
The parent-teacher conference from last week played in my head.
“Drake seems… distracted lately,” Mrs. Peterson had said, sliding his failed math test across her desk. “He’s been falling asleep in class. When he’s awake, he’s always scribbling in his notebook, but it’s not notes from the lesson.”
How could he be getting a grade like that with math tutoring? Was it time to pull the plug on all other clubs?
A math test | Source: Pexels
Either way, I knew sleep wouldn’t come, so I decided to take a shower.
The bathroom was my sanctuary, the one place I could relax and belt out old songs without anyone hearing. Tonight’s selection was “Sweet Child O’ Mine.”
The steam rose around me as I hit the chorus, and I remembered how I used to dream of being on stage.
A woman washing her hair | Source: Pexels
“Where do we go now?” I sang, letting my voice soar like it used to at the coffee shop open mics when my future hopes were far grander than what reality allowed.
Sadly, those wishes were extinguished the moment, Tom, Drake’s father and my ex, left us for his new family in Seattle.
But now wasn’t the time to dwell on the past again. The present was much more important. I finished cleaning myself up and exited my shower. As I dried my hair, I felt the pull on my ear and heard a clink on my tiled floor.
A woman drying up | Source: Pexels
My earring! I bent down to get it and saw the crystal’s shining light reflecting from just under the bathtub. Except… something else caught my eye.
There, hidden under the edge, was an old nanny cam I used when Drake was a baby. And it was ON. I immediately went pale. But I examined the angle. It would only be recording my feet. I didn’t get it.
Still, my hands shook as I took it and carefully wrapped myself in a towel to march straight to Drake’s room. The sound of his furious typing stopped when I pounded on the door.
A woman holding a small camera | Source: Pexels
“Just a minute!” he called out, and I heard drawers being opened and shut. What in the world?
“Drake, open this door right now!”
Finally, I heard footsteps and the door swung open.
He stood there in his oversized gaming headphones, and his own face turned white as soon as I held up the nanny cam.
A boy with headphones | Source: Pexels
“Drake, what is this? Why was this hidden in the bathroom?!” I asked, as my anger and bravado turned to extreme worry.
When he remained silent, I gulped and asked, “Have you been… recording me in the bathroom?”
His eyes widened at that. His expression was terrified. “Oh no… Mom, you weren’t supposed to find that. IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK. I can explain!”
“Then start explaining.” I pushed past him into his room and looked at his computer. The screen showed some kind of video editing software. Oh, no! What is he doing?
A laptop on a desk | Source: Pexels
But before I could panic more, Drake spoke. “I…” He slumped onto his bed. “You weren’t supposed to find out yet.”
“Find out what? That my son is making videos of…” I couldn’t even say it.
“No! Mom, listen,” he pleaded as tears welled up in his eyes. “Remember when you used to sing at the coffee shop open mics? Before Dad left?”
The question caught me off guard. “What does that have to do with anything?”
A woman looking confused | Source: Pexels
“You were so happy then. Now you only sing in the shower, when you think no one can hear you.” He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “But you’re still amazing, Mom. I wanted to show you that.”
He reached for his laptop and turned it toward me. His fingers pressed play, and suddenly, the screen showed me… well, a music video.
I saw a sunset over the city and streets filled with people chasing their dreams. But the main part was the soundtrack with my voice, clear and strong. It was playing “My Way.”
A sunset over New York | Source: Pexels
“I met an old man, Mr. Arthur. I’ve been going to his studio after school,” Drake continued. “He’s been teaching me video editing. I wanted to surprise you for your birthday, show you that you shouldn’t give up on your dreams just because…”
“Because your father left?” The words stuck in my throat.
“He owns all these old instruments, and he lets me practice drums while he teaches me about making videos.” Drake’s words tumbled out faster now. “I’ve been doing extra chores for neighbors to pay for studio time. Mr. Arthur says I have a good eye for it.”
A drum set | Source: Pexels
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you worry about everything now.” His voice cracked. “Ever since Dad left, it’s like you stopped believing in good surprises. I thought if I could just finish the video, show you how amazing you still are…”
Tears welled and fell before I could stop them. All this time, I’d been so worried about what he was hiding. Never once did I consider he might be worried about me too.
A woman crying | Source: Pexels
“You could have just talked to me,” I said softly, wrapping my arms around him.
“Would you have listened?” He looked up at me, suddenly seeming older than 11. “You always say you’re fine, but I hear you crying sometimes. And you never sing anymore, except in the shower.”
I pulled him close, feeling his thin shoulders shake. “I’m sorry, baby. I guess we’ve both been keeping too many things inside.”
We stayed in silence for a few minutes before I remembered something. “Oh! Is Mr. Arthur’s studio on 1247 Maple Street?”
A music studio | Source: Midjourney
“Yes!” Drake said, but then frowned. “How did you know?”
“In the interest of honesty…” I began and confessed to rummaging through his backpack. Shockingly, we just laughed at each other.
***
The next day, we visited Mr. Arthur’s studio together. He turned out to be a gentle giant with calloused hands and kind eyes, surrounded by dusty guitars and vintage recording equipment.
Music equipment | Source: Pexels
“Your boy’s got talent,” he told me and showed me more of Drake’s videos. “And so do you.”
And now that the secrets were out, Drake and I finally finished the jigsaw puzzle together. I also sang outside the shower for the first time in years.
What’s more, next week, I’m singing at the coffee shop again. My son will be there, recording every moment. This time, I won’t be afraid of a little camera.
A woman singing a microphone | Source: Pexels
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Leave a Reply