(The Last Leaf of the Vineyard) is a famous and very influential short story by the American writer (O. Henry), and it tells the story of a terminally ill artist who linked her death to the fall of the last leaf of the vine from the branch of the tree outside the window. The story is that the leaf never fell... Later, she recovered. So she knew that an unknown artist who loved her had drawn a fake paper to make her believe that the paper existed and that there was rest in her life. What I am talking about today is less lofty and sophisticated, but just as painful. Since my childhood, my father would buy fruit or someone would give us a box of chocolate, and we would do the necessary and prepare all the fruit or chocolate. Only one last piece of chocolate or one apple remains. The important thing is that something remains that cannot be distributed to us. That last thing sits in the fridge waiting for divisible mates to appear. One miserable morning, he disappears from our world forever. Where did he go? no one knows. I grew up and became a father, but the eternal question still puzzles me: Where does the last thing go? Someone takes it, but who? Certainly not me. Why shouldn't I be that lucky?
The greatest test came in the form of a friend of mine who returned from Switzerland, and brought me a box of luxurious chocolate that tastes amazing. My family consists of four people... That's why I knew from the beginning that the number of pieces of chocolate would never be a multiple of four... Life is not that simple... Maybe it is nine pieces... Maybe thirteen... The important thing is that that last damned piece will remain in my life. The refrigerator awaits its fate...which is what actually happened.
My wife, I, my teenage son, and my baby daughter are like the defendants in an Agatha Christie story. We exchange murderous glances knowing that one of us is going to do it. Who is he? I could ask them to wait but for how long? When will a second friend of mine return from Switzerland with a box of chocolates?
So we put the piece in the refrigerator shelf, and I swore to myself that it would be mine. I was deceived when I was a foolish child because I was a foolish child, so what excuse do I give myself today? As for my daughter, I am reassured that the refrigerator shelf is higher than her reach, but I am worried about the mother of the children and the little teenage rascal.
At first, I noticed that my wife was hovering around the refrigerator more than necessary. I told her without any apparent reason that we would wait until we bought some chocolate until the number of pieces became divisible by four. She looked embarrassed and quickly said that she didn't even like chocolate.
I found the boy opening the refrigerator and standing in front of it for a longer time than necessary. I asked him about his problem and he told me:
“I want something to eat.. I am in a growing stage, as you know.”
My opinion was that he had grown enough, and if he had grown more than that, he would have turned into a bull. Then she gave him a piece of bread and a triangle of cheese, and stood guarding the refrigerator until I was sure he was gone. The problem with them being around the fridge too much - even if they don't steal the chocolate - is that they don't give me the opportunity to steal it myself.
I remained anxious all night, tossing and turning in my bed. From time to time I made sure that my wife was asleep. I wanted to get up, but a feeling of shame prevented me. The matter is not that complicated, and it is not possible for me to reach this degree of (inferiority). I am a mature man in his fifties, and I have major problems and I have my own profession. It is impossible for me to stay up late and sneak into the kitchen to steal a piece of chocolate. In the past, the husband used to sneak into the kitchen because the beautiful maid was sleeping there. What a decline in the interests of today’s husbands.
In the end, the lust for chocolate won over me, and I decided to do it once in my life. The last piece of chocolate would be mine for the first time in my life. I went out to the kitchen in the darkness of the hall, my heart pounding in my ribs. I went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. I extended my hand to the shelf. You are mine. The fates said one day that you are mine! And I grabbed the chocolate. Here I was surprised that it was just silver paper wrapped over nothing! Some scoundrel had eaten it and wrapped it so tightly that it looked like it had been untouched! Who did it? Why does my wife sleep so deeply? Why didn't my son wake up all night?