I Paid My Father $250 in Rent Every Month for Five Years. After His Funeral, His Best Friend Gave Me a Key and a Box.

Fifteen thousand dollars.

There was also a ledger with exact amounts and deposit dates.

Dad had not spent a cent.

For a second, I felt grateful.

Then I remembered the months when I couldn’t afford new tires, the nights I worked until one in the morning, and the production program I’d turned down because the deposit was beyond my reach.

“You could have told me,” I said to the screen.