The dispatcher’s voice came through my phone. “Ma’am, are you safe?”
I kept my eyes on Megan. “Yes. The ambulance is coming, right?”
Megan tightened her grip on the folder.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just papers Ed asked me to bring.”
“My husband is unconscious on the floor. What papers matter more than that?”
She stepped back. “You’re upset. We can talk later.”
“No,” I said, rising carefully with one hand still near Ed’s shoulder. “We talk now.”
“Marilyn, please.”
“Put the folder on the counter.”
“It’s private.”
“Then you shouldn’t have brought it into my husband’s apartment with his key in your hand.”
“You’re separated. He’s not your responsibility anymore, Marilyn.”
Sirens wailed outside.
“Don’t run,” I said. “If you leave, I’ll tell this family you chose that folder over Ed breathing.”
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Her face went pale.
Slowly, she put it down.
I did not touch it until the paramedics had Ed on the stretcher. Then I picked it up and carried it with me because I no longer trusted anyone else to hold the truth.
—
At the hospital, Ed was stable by dawn, but I did not relax.
I sat beside his bed with Megan’s folder in my lap and read every page twice.
Ed’s eyes opened while the room was still gray.
“Marilyn?”
I held up the folder. “Do you know what she brought to your apartment?”
His face changed. “Where’s Megan?”
“Not beside your bed. Answer me, Ed!”
He swallowed. “It was paperwork.”
“Account summaries, house notes, emergency contact drafts, and a list titled assets.” I tapped the folder. “Her name appears too often for someone only helping.”
Ed closed his eyes.
“Did you want to divorce me?”
“No.”
“Then say the rest.”
His mouth trembled. “Megan said it was the only way to protect you.”
“By humiliating me?”
“She said if my health got worse, the bills could bury us. She said if we separated on paper, you would be safer.”
“That wasn’t legal advice, Ed. That was panic with a pen. And you took it from a woman who wanted her name on your life.”
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“Did you know it when you called your fake trainer Tara?”
He looked away.
