“I never cashed a single one,” he whispered. “Every check they sent went into an account in Rosie’s name. Every dollar. She’ll have it when she needs it. Every penny is hers.”
I wanted to believe him.
But something wasn’t adding up.
“Then why sign it? Why put your name on something so disgusting?”
Something wasn’t adding up.
Ben looked at the floor.
“Because I saw where they planned to send her… A place called Willow Grove.”
The name meant nothing to me.
But the way he said it made my knees weak.
I sank onto the tile across from him because my legs would not hold me anymore.
“Your mother showed me the brochure. She said you both were adults, and Rosie was becoming a burden nobody in the family would carry.”
“I saw where they planned to send her.”
“That’s not true. She’s not a burden, and I would’ve looked after her IF she needed me to.”
“They never planned to tell you.” His voice was so quiet I had to lean forward. “Your mother said, ‘Cathy deserves a life of her own. We won’t chain her to Rosie.'”
“She said that?”
“She offered me a settlement to marry Rosie. Legal guardianship. I didn’t sign for any of that — I signed because I love her. Because I want her to have the life she deserves.”
I looked down at the paper crushed against my chest.
There was one thing I couldn’t get over.
“They never planned to tell you.”
My own parents had done this.
“And Rosie knew…” I said.
Ben nodded.
“I told her a year in. I couldn’t lie to her anymore. She cried. Then she laughed. Then she said she wanted to keep me anyway.”
He smiled through his tears.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And Rosie knew…”
“Rosie asked me not to. She said you’d go to war with your parents, that the family would be destroyed. I kept that promise until today, when she asked me to make a new promise.”
We both turned to look down the corridor.
I thought about the way Ben brought Rosie flowers on Tuesdays for no reason.
The way he could recite lines from her favorite movie.
Their marriage was never a performance.
Their love was real.
But I could not forgive my parents for what they’d done.
But I could not forgive.
“I hated you for two whole minutes,” I whispered.
“I would have hated me for longer.”
Just then, footsteps hurried down the corridor toward us.
I turned to see the doctor approaching.
Something in his eyes told me he was bringing news I was not ready to hear.
I stood and braced myself against the wall.
He was bringing news I was not ready to hear.
The doctor stopped just short of us.
He glanced between Ben and me.
Before he could say anything, the elevator chimed.
My parents stepped out, coats folded neatly over their arms.
They spotted us immediately and walked over to join us.
“How is she?” My mother asked.
My parents stepped out.
NEXT PAGE
