Chapter 2: The Signature That Wasn't Mine
For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything.
The music was still playing.
Someone's phone vibrated on the dining table.
A chair scraped against the floor.
But all I could see was Vanessa's signature.
My wife had signed a document refusing medical treatment for my mother.
I looked at Evelyn.
"Mom, did you refuse treatment?""
She shook her head.
"No.""
"Did you sign this?""
"No, sweetheart.""
I looked at Vanessa.
"Then explain this.""
She reached for the paper.
I pulled it away.
"Don't touch it.""
"Marcus, you're misunderstanding the document.""
"Then explain it.""
Vanessa glanced at the guests.
"Can everyone please give us a minute?""
Derek immediately stood.
"Yeah, I think we should leave.""
Rachel gathered her handbag.
"Vanessa, call me later.""
I didn't stop them.
One by one, her relatives slipped through the front door.
Nobody offered my mother an apology.
Nobody asked if she was feeling better.
Derek even stopped beside the dining table to pick up the bottle of expensive wine he'd brought.
He tucked it under his arm.
I watched him leave.
Then I turned back to Vanessa.
"Who gave you permission to sign this?""
She crossed her arms.
"I was listed as your mother's emergency contact.""
"That's not what I asked.""
"Your mother was confused about the appointment.""
Evelyn looked up.
"I wasn't confused.""
Vanessa ignored her.
"The doctors explained the options, and I made a decision based on what was best for everyone.""
"Everyone?""
I held up the document.
"This says she refused treatment.""
"She didn't want to go through another procedure.""
"Did she tell you that?""
Vanessa hesitated.
"She said she was tired.""
My mother slowly shook her head.
"I said I was tired of waiting in the hospital.""
Vanessa snapped her head toward her.
"Evelyn, please.""
Mom's fingers tightened around the edge of the chair.
I stepped between them.
"Don't speak to her like that.""
Vanessa stared at me.
"You have no idea what I've been dealing with.""
I almost laughed.
"What you've been dealing with?""
"Yes! Your mother needs constant attention. She forgets things.
She asks the same questions. She leaves lights on. She expects everyone to drop what they're doing.""
My mother lowered her head.
I felt my jaw tighten.
"She's recovering from medical problems. She's not your servant.""
"I never said she was.""
I looked at the apron lying on the dining table.
"Then why was she wearing that?""
Vanessa's expression hardened.
"Because she wanted to help.""
I took a breath.
"Mom, I want you to tell me everything.""
Evelyn looked toward the kitchen.
Then toward Vanessa.
Finally, she whispered, "Can we talk somewhere else?""
I nodded.
"Of course.""
I helped her stand.
Vanessa moved toward the staircase.
"Where are you taking her?""
"Upstairs.""
"Marcus, we need to discuss this.""
"We will.""
"Not without me.""
I stopped.
"Actually, especially without you.""
I took my mother to the guest bedroom and closed the door.
She sat on the edge of the bed.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I noticed how carefully she lowered herself onto the mattress.
"Does your back hurt?""
She nodded.
"Sometimes.""
"How long?""
"About two weeks.""
I knelt in front of her.
"Mom, please don't hide anything from me.""
She looked at my face for a long time.
Then she began to cry.
"I tried to call you.""
My chest tightened.
"When?""
"Last Tuesday.""
"Why didn't I get your call?""
She reached into the pocket of her cardigan and pulled out an old phone.
The screen was cracked.
"I couldn't get through.""
I checked the call history.
There were seven outgoing calls to my number.
All marked as failed.
I looked at the device.
"Why didn't you use the house phone?""
Her eyes dropped.
"Vanessa said the international calls were expensive, and you were busy.""
I stared at her.
"Mom, I called you every evening.""
She shook her head.
"Vanessa said you were working late. She said you asked not to be disturbed.""
My stomach turned.
I opened my own phone.
For three weeks, I'd sent messages.
How are you feeling, Mom?
Did you eat today?
I'll call tomorrow.
There were no replies.
I'd assumed she was resting.
I hadn't known someone was standing between us.
"Did Vanessa tell you not to contact me?""
Mom wiped her cheeks.
"She said you were under pressure. She said if I loved you, I wouldn't make things harder.""
I closed my eyes.
That sentence hurt more than the signature.
"What else?""
She hesitated.
"She took my appointment letters.""
"Why?""
"She said she'd organize everything.""
"And the hospital?""
"She said they had called and everything was fine.""
I stared at her.
"Mom, the papers say you missed treatment.""
She nodded.
"I know.""
I took her hands.
"Tell me what the doctor found.""
She looked down at the wedding ring she'd worn for forty-two years.
"Marcus, they found something in my breast.""
The room seemed to shrink.
"What?""
"A lump. The doctor said it needed further testing. They wanted me to see a specialist.""
I struggled to speak.
"When?""
"Three weeks ago.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because Vanessa said it was probably nothing.""
I stood up and paced toward the window.
My mother continued.
"She told me not to frighten you until we knew for sure.""
I turned.
"And you believed her?""
"I wanted to.""
Her voice cracked.
"She was your wife, baby. I thought she was helping me.""
I sat beside her again.
"Did you ever meet the specialist?""
"No.""
"Did you receive any treatment?""
She shook her head.
I looked at the hospital documents again.
The first letter requested an urgent consultation.
The second contained a referral.
The third was a warning about the missed appointment.
The fourth was a notice that the hospital had been unable to contact her.
And the fifth—
I stopped.
There was another document tucked inside a smaller envelope.
It was a hospital authorization form.
My mother's name appeared at the top.
Below it was a section titled:
*AUTHORIZED REPRESENTATIVE AND FINANCIAL RESPONSIBILITY.*
I read it twice.
Vanessa had listed herself as the person authorized to manage my mother's medical correspondence.
But there was something else.
A handwritten note in the margin.
Please send all future correspondence to the alternate address provided.
I recognized the address.
It wasn't our home.
It was Vanessa's sister Rachel's apartment.
I looked at the date.
Three days after I'd left for Chicago.
My mother noticed my expression.
"What is it?""
I didn't answer immediately.
Instead, I took a photograph of every document.
Then I called the hospital.
After several transfers, a woman answered.
"Patient services. How may I help you?""
"My name is Marcus Carter. I'm Evelyn Carter's son. I need to speak with someone about her missed oncology appointment.""
There was a pause.
"May I verify the patient's date of birth?""
I provided it.
A few seconds passed.
Then the woman spoke again.
"Mr. Carter, I can see the appointment history. However, there is a note on the account.""
"What note?""
"Your mother requested that no further appointments be scheduled.""
I stared at the wall.
"My mother never requested that.""
"According to our records, the request was submitted by her authorized representative.""
"Who?""
The woman hesitated.
"Ms. Vanessa Carter.""
I looked toward the bedroom door.
Outside, I could hear Vanessa walking across the hallway.
Then the hospital employee said something that made me grip the phone harder.
"Mr. Carter, there's another issue. Your mother's treatment deposit was paid, but the payment was reversed the following day.""
"Reversed?""
"Yes. The person who originally made the payment requested a refund.""
"Who made it?""
A keyboard clicked.
Then the woman answered.
"Your wife, sir.""
I felt the blood drain from my face.
My wife hadn't simply hidden my mother's medical letters.
She had arranged the payment, canceled the treatment, and requested the money back.
I looked at my mother.
She was watching me.
Her lips trembled.
"Marcus, please don't fight with Vanessa because of me.""
I squeezed her hand.
"I'm not going to fight with her, Mom.""
But I was already reaching for my phone.
I needed answers.
And I was beginning to suspect that the medical documents were only the beginning.
Because when I checked the bank account connected to my mother's medical expenses, I found a withdrawal that neither my mother nor I had authorized.
May you like
*$48,000.*
And the transaction description contained a name I had never expected to see.
