“Not cheap” meant more than anything I’ve ever seen in one piece. The sequel was brief:
I have a proposal. Marry me. All the costs of your father’s treatment are at my expense.
I remember my hands shaking over the table.
“Why me?” I was able to ask.
“Because I need a wife, not a mistress,” he replied calmly. “Someone who is by my side when things get… heavy.”
That’s when I thought it was a disease. His age, his visibly worn body, the slight forgetting in the conversation… Everything was screaming “Alzheimer’s” or something.
I was sitting in front of the blank sheet, and I knew that if I signed, I would get my father out of bed. If I don’t sign, I’ll bury him.
