I unfolded the contract.
The color disappeared from both my parents’ faces.
Dad recovered first.
“This is not the place.”
“You tried to pay Ben to marry Rosie.”
My mother glanced toward the doctor.
“Keep your voice down.”
“You planned to send her away.”
“You do not understand the situation,” Dad said.
“I understand every word of your agreement.”
“We were planning for her future,” Mom insisted.
“No. You were removing her from yours.”
Her mouth tightened.
“Rosie required long-term support. We had to consider what would happen when we were gone.”
“You could have asked her what she wanted.”
“She did not fully understand the consequences.”
A voice came from behind me.
“Yes, she did.”
Ben stepped forward.
My mother pointed at him.
“He accepted our offer. Do not stand there pretending he is innocent.”
“You offered me money because you believed Rosie’s life could be transferred like a legal obligation.”
“And you signed.”
“I signed so you would not institutionalize the woman I loved before she had independent representation.”
Dad’s face darkened.
“You manipulated us.”
Ben gave a broken laugh.
“You wrote a contract assigning value to your daughter’s marriage.”
People had begun gathering.
Two nurses paused near the desk.
A hospital volunteer stood beside the elevators.
Several families in the waiting area were listening openly.
My mother looked around.
“You cannot be angry with us without being angry with him.”
I held up the contract.
“You signed this to get rid of her.”
Then I pointed toward Ben.
