She Left Me in Traction, Then the Will Made Me Her Boss novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Bed She Left
Marissa tells Tobias in front of his surgeon that she is going back to her ex, Lyle; Tobias discharges himself and learns his insurance was cancelled yesterday and the lawyer's ninety days are up today.
Marissa took off my engagement ring and set it on my breakfast tray.
"I'm sorry, Toby," she said.
My surgeon was checking the pins in my leg. Two nurses were hanging a fresh bag on the pole.
Nobody moved.
It was the fourth morning after the van hit me.
I had a cast from ankle to hip, three cracked ribs, and a bruise down the left side of my face that pulled when I talked.
Marissa stood at the foot of the bed in her camel coat.
Her hair was done and she had put on lipstick for this.
"I'm going back to Lyle," she said. "We're announcing it tonight."
Lyle stood in the doorway holding a cardboard tray of coffees.
"Brother," he said. "I didn't want you to hear it from somebody else."
I looked at the ring on the tray.
Four days ago I had been crossing Main Street to pick up her wedding band from the jeweler, engraved with our date.
The date was three weeks away.
"You said yes to me eleven months ago," I said.
"I know." Marissa studied the floor. "It was never going to work. You'd have worked it out yourself."
The surgeon, Dr. Brooks, turned a page of my chart and spoke without looking up.
"Ms. Carrow, his heart rate just hit one-twenty. Does this have to happen this morning?"
"It's only fair that he knows," Lyle said.
He set the coffees down, came to the bed and gave my shoulder a squeeze.
"Tobias, the family has you. I'll take care of every bill. I had the company lawyers draw this up so I can handle things while you're laid up."
He took a folded document out of his jacket and laid it on the tray beside the ring.
"It's only a signature, bro. Everything you own, I'll keep safe."
Marissa came around the bed and put a pen in my hand.
"Just sign it, Toby. Please. It's easier for everyone."
I signed things for Lyle every Friday.
Purchase orders, invoices, a lease or two.
I had never once been told it was easier for everyone.
The lawyer for my grandfather's estate had called me three times that week.
I figured it was the funeral bills and let every call go to voicemail.
I looked down at the page.
"Read the second paragraph before you sign that," Dr. Brooks said.
She still hadn't looked up from her chart.
I read the second paragraph.
It said Lyle could sell, sign and withdraw in my name.
It covered my bank accounts, my shares in Carrow Group and every medical decision made for me.
I looked at Marissa.
She was looking at the pen.
"This isn't about the bills," I said.
"Of course it is," Lyle said, still smiling. "Don't be dramatic. You're on a lot of painkillers."
"I'm not signing it."
"Then the bills go to collections," Lyle said. "That's on you, not me."
Marissa's hand closed over mine on the pen.
"Toby, don't make this ugly in front of strangers."
I took my hand out from under hers.
One of the nurses had stopped hanging the bag.
The other one was staring at Marissa with her mouth open.
"I'd like you both to leave," I said.
"Tobias," said Lyle.
"Now."
Marissa picked up her purse.
At the door she turned and said, "I'll send someone for your things."
Then she was gone, and Lyle went after her with the coffees.
The ring stayed on the tray.
I looked at it for a while.
Then I took hold of the tape on my arm and pulled out my own IV.
"Mr. Carrow," said the nurse by the pole. "You can't."
"Yes, he can," Dr. Brooks said.
She finally looked at me.
Her eyes were brown, tired and completely steady.
"He can sign himself out against medical advice. It's the one form in this building I'll tell him to sign."
She took a clipboard from the foot of the bed and held it out.
"Read it first."
I read it, and I signed it.
"You'll need crutches, a walker for the stairs, and a surgeon who isn't furious with you by Monday," she said. "Take all three."
It took the nurses forty minutes to find me a pair of sweatpants that fit over the cast.
I left the ring where it was.
At the billing desk on the first floor a woman in a green cardigan typed my name and frowned at the screen.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Carrow. Your coverage ended yesterday."
"That's not possible. I work for Carrow Group. The plan renews in January."
"It was terminated by the employer yesterday afternoon." She turned the screen toward me. "The request came from the CEO's office."
Lyle's office.
Yesterday, while I was still too drugged to hold a phone.
He had cancelled my insurance before he ever walked in with a pen.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
It was a voicemail, the fourth from the lawyer.
I put it to my ear, expecting a bill.
"Mr. Carrow, it's the estate office again," he said. "I'm sorry to keep calling. Today is the ninetieth day since your grandfather's funeral, and I've been instructed to reach you before it ends."
There was a pause on the recording.
"Please call me back today. Do not tell your family."
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