214 Wills

The day my girlfriend's accident happened, I found her wills. Two hundred and fourteen of them, actually. Each one was dated differently, but the beneficiary never changed. It wasn't me. It was her first love. My hands and feet went cold. I couldn't even bring myself to ask her about it. She was lying in a hospital bed, still unconscious. "Miss Zaslow has always had a thing for extreme sports, especially the more dangerous ones," her assistant explained. "So she'd gotten in the habit of leaving one of these behind every time, before she left." "Only the last one was ever notarized by a lawyer." I barely needed to think about it. "Still has nothing to do with me. Does it?" He didn't say anything else after that. The room went quiet, except for the steady beep of the machines. Six years together, and Vivian Zaslow had vanished on me for over a month at a time before, more than once. Every single time, I'd been sick with worry for her. And the whole time, she'd been quietly leaving everything that she owned to another man. If that was how it was, why should I keep worrying about her at all? Chapter 1 Vivian Zaslow lay with her eyes closed, all the color drained from her face. I'd learned everything there was to know, and not one word of it had been explained to me. My chest felt like it might cave in. Her mother, Nancy Zaslow, came rushing in, bag still in hand. The second Nancy saw her daughter on the hospital bed, her eyes went red. "Nancy..." The slap landed before I could finish. It stung all the way down to the bone. "Didn't you promise me you'd take care of her? How could you just stand there and let Vivian throw herself into something that dangerous?" I turned my face back toward her, blood filling my mouth with a faint, coppery taste. "Nancy, Vivian's an adult. She gets to make her own choices. I don't have a say in her choices." "Nonsense." Nancy's brows knit together as she jabbed a finger into my chest. "She was never like this when she was with the other boy. You're bad luck. That's what you are." I swallowed down a mouthful of blood and pulled my mouth into a thin, bitter smile. "Fine. Vivian and I are done. That should satisfy you." "You think you can threaten me with a breakup?" Her voice climbed sharply. "Mom..." Vivian's voice came out weak, her eyes cracking open. "Don't blame Stuart. This isn't his fault." She trembled as she tried to push herself upright. Her assistant hurried over to prop her up from behind. "Don't give him a hard time." "Would you look at that. My daughter is defending an outsider against me. If the two of you get married, is my daughter going to stop calling me Mom?" Nancy let out a cold snort and slammed the door on her way out. I gritted my teeth against the burning in my cheek and didn't make a sound. Vivian reached up with a shaking hand and gently wiped my face clean. "I'm sorry. This is my fault. I put you through that. It won't happen again, all right?" Her voice was as gentle as it had always been. Nothing about it had changed. "Are you going to explain your will to me?" She glanced over at her assistant's face, then turned back to me with a smile. "I'm fine now. You should be glad we don't have to use it." "Can you stop dodging the question? I don't want your money. I don't need any of it. Just tell me one thing. Why is there a stranger standing between us?" The machines in the room ticked on, steady and quiet. A nurse pushed the door open and pressed a finger to her lips. "Please keep it down. You'll disturb the other patients." Vivian's expression stayed perfectly composed. Next to her, I looked like the one who'd lost his mind. "If we're being honest, you're the stranger here." She smiled, and a thin fog crept over her oxygen mask. It was as if I'd never once actually seen her clearly, not in all this time. "Why do you even care? We're the ones getting married in the end." But I couldn't think straight anymore. All I could do was repeat her own words back to her. "I'm the stranger? Say it again. I'm the stranger?" I shoved my hair back, exposing the scar on my forehead. "The second something happened to you, I fell down a flight of stairs getting here. I didn't even stop to treat the wound. All I could think about was seeing your face." A flicker of pain crossed Vivian's eyes. She started to say something, then broke into a violent fit of coughing, blood welling up at the corner of her mouth. "Ms. Zaslow!" Her assistant scrambled to his feet, but she caught his wrist before he could move. "I'm fine. Have the doctor look at Stuart's wound first." Vivian gripped my wrist, her breath coming thin and ragged. "Don't let the will get to you. Daryl has no one and nothing in this world. He saved my life once. I only ever wanted to pay him back. That's all it was." "Just paying him back?" She managed the smallest of nods; it cost her everything she had left. "Don't lie to me." I picked up one of the letters lying nearby. "Being buried next to him after you're gone, that's paying him back too? So what does that make me, then? "Vivian, let's just end this. I'm the outsider here. I won't get in the way of whatever this is between you two anymore." "Stuart Markman!" She screamed my name with everything she had left in her. I didn't look back. I pressed down on the door handle. The moment I stepped out of that room, every ounce of strength drained out of me. I had to fight just to stay on my feet. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. Even something as simple as entering my passcode, a motion I could do in my sleep, took me several tries. The phone screen finally came up. [Mr. Markman, please arrange your schedule accordingly. Your flight departs at midnight tomorrow.] Chapter 2 "Mr. Markman, the floor's cold." Vivian's assistant held a hand out to me. "Get up." The doctor walked past him into the ward, leaving him standing there alone in front of me. "Daryl Anderson's situation is more complicated than it looks. He saved Ms. Zaslow's life. That's how the two of them met, out on one of her extreme sports trips. "That man is dying. Ms. Zaslow made him a promise. She'd see the world in his place." With his help, it took me several tries to get back on my feet. The sun was blazing outside the window, and yet I was freezing. "Right. That's what everyone keeps telling me. Makes it sound like I'm the petty one in all this." I pulled my hand free and braced myself against the wall instead, inching forward as the cold of the tile crept into my palm. Just like Vivian's heart. No matter how long I held on, I could never warm it up. I don't even remember how I got home. I ended up on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. My phone lit up with a message. It was from Vivian. Vivian: [Are you home yet? Still mad at me?] I could picture exactly how she must have looked, typing that. Calm. Expressionless, probably. Me: [No.] Vivian: [I ordered you some flowers. The courier will drop them off. Don't forget to bring them in.] Me: [What are the flowers for?] Vivian: [To make it up to you.] The doorbell rang the instant her message came through. Ninety-nine roses sat waiting on the ground outside. I didn't touch them. More messages kept rolling in. Vivian: [Did you get them?] I shut the door, my face blank. Out of every flower in the world, roses were the one I hated most. They reminded me of someone. My stepmother. On the day of my mother's funeral, she'd filled our house with them, as if she were staking a claim. Vivian: [Put them in a vase and send me a photo.] Vivian: [A full shot of the room. As soon as you can.] I pointed my phone at a corner of the room and pressed the shutter without a second thought. The conversation went dead quiet after that. It hadn't felt like she was comforting me. It felt like she'd just been checking a box off a list. I caught a bitter, salty taste at the corner of my mouth. I never made a habit of checking anyone's social media. But this time, seeing the little red notification light up, I clicked into it before I even knew what I was doing. The very first post was of my own house. More precisely, it was the exact photo I'd just taken. Except the one who'd posted it wasn't Vivian. It was the man I'd been quietly sponsoring for years, the one whose congenital condition had been triggered by a bad fever back when he was a child. I'd been funding him for six years. I never imagined I'd been footing the bill for my girlfriend's first love. The caption was short and simple. [I have a home of my own now, too.] The post had more than just the photo I'd taken. There was a floor plan attached to it as well, drawn in his own hand. It was the design for my house. A wave of nausea hit me out of nowhere. I bolted for the bathroom and doubled over the sink, dry heaving. It was disgusting. Tears ran down into the corners of my mouth, just as bitter as everything else. I finally understood their so-called promise. Daryl Anderson's birthday was February 14th. So Vivian meant to see the world two hundred and fourteen times over, in his place, so he could feel like he was part of every trip. She'd tattooed his name over her heart. Every photo she held up in her hand was of him. I didn't have a single one of those travel photos. Not one. His social media, on the other hand, had every last one of them. They had loved each other, fiercely, all along. Even after they'd supposedly split up, neither of them could quite let go. All those days I couldn't reach Vivian, she'd been checking in with Daryl every single day, letting him know she was safe. My finger kept scrolling on autopilot. My mind had gone completely blank, with only one impulse left standing in it. I needed to see Daryl. But by the time I reached the sanatorium, the first thing I saw was Vivian's car. She'd only just woken from her coma, and she'd already rushed straight here to see him. Under the shade of a tree, Vivian sat in her wheelchair, wrapped tight in Daryl's arms, the two of them holding on to each other. I stood off at a distance. I really did look like the outsider now. The tenderness on Vivian's face was something I'd never once seen turned toward me. "There, there. Don't cry. I'm fine, aren't I? I'll keep my promise to you. I always do." I pulled out my phone and called her. Vivian hesitated, motioning for Daryl to stay quiet before she finally picked up. "What is it?" "Do you remember? You promised me that the moment you were back on your feet, you'd come meet my parents with me." I stood at the gate, close enough to see her expression clearly. Close enough to see the confusion written across it. "I'm hooked up to an IV at the hospital right now. How am I supposed to go with you? But don't worry. The second I'm discharged, I'll go with you, first thing. All right?" "Don't bother." She froze. "What do you mean, don't bother?" "There's no need." I said it again, slowly, so there'd be no mistaking it. The hand holding the phone was shaking from how hard I gripped it. "You don't have to marry me anymore." Chapter 3 I hung up the phone. Vivian's eyes landed on me, her expression shifting into panic. "Stuart! What are you doing here?" She spun her wheels hard, hurrying toward me. Daryl froze for a second. Then, seeing it was me, he broke into a warm smile. "Stuart, you came!" His smile was easy and familiar. Next to it, I felt like the villain of the story. "You two know each other?" he asked. Vivian's eyes darted between the two of us. "Friends." "You're saying we're just friends?" Vivian pulled out her phone and typed. [He can't handle shocks. He's basically a stranger to you. Why are you being so difficult about this?] I smiled. "Aren't you going to introduce me properly?" I said. "Vivian, let me introduce you. This is the man who's been funding me for six years," Daryl said. The color drained from Vivian's face. Without thinking, she reached out and grabbed at the hem of my jacket. [Can we not tell Daryl about us? At least for now.] [Of course.] Vivian let out a breath of relief. [We're already broken up. So it really is none of his business.] "Do you have to keep saying things like that just to spite me?" Vivian's brows knit together, and she stopped typing. She was angry. She wheeled herself away on her own. "Stuart, I never told you this, but Vivian and I were each other's first love." Daryl's eyes never once left her. "But after I got sick, I broke things off. If it were up to me, I'd want to be the one by her side. Why couldn't the one who got sick have been her current boyfriend instead of me? Why did it have to be me?" Something complicated stirred in me toward Daryl. The words rose to my lips more than once, and each time, I swallowed them back down. "What if I told you her current boyfriend was me?" Daryl's whole body went rigid. He turned his head to look at me. One second. Two seconds. As if it had finally dawned on him, his eyes went wide, and he fled from my sight like he was running for his life. I was left standing there alone. Then the director's voice broke the quiet, calling my name gently. "Mr. Markman, you're here. How much are you planning to put in Daryl's account this time?" I stared at the tire tracks on the ground and let out a long breath. "I won't be funding him anymore." "Is something wrong?" "I'm relocating. It's going to cost a great deal, and I can't afford to keep supporting another person on top of that." The director nodded, then walked me to the door with a smile. "Then I hope the rest of your days treat you kindly. "I heard you're getting married. When the time comes, the sanatorium will send along a small gift. After everything you've done for us over the years, it's the least we can offer." "The wedding's off." I said it without a trace of feeling in my voice, as though I were mentioning nothing more than an ordinary errand. The director simply nodded again, then said, with real solemnity, "Then I hope you find someone who truly loves you next time." "Thank you." I nodded and pulled the car door open. "Daryl ran off somewhere. You might want to send someone after him. It isn't safe out there." I'd driven a long way before a license plate I recognized appeared in my rearview mirror. A moment later, Vivian cut me off and forced me to stop. "What did you say to Daryl?" "What could I possibly have said?" The slap landed across my face, a stab of pain sharp enough to seize my whole body. "He got hit by a car! Stuart, how could you be so cruel?" "Me, cruel? You're calling me cruel?" I pointed at my nose. "We've loved each other for six years, and you're going to doubt me like this?" Vivian's hand was shaking. As if something had suddenly dawned on her, she reached out, tentative, and wrapped her arms around my waist. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I just panicked for a second. "Stuart, don't be angry with me. I really didn't mean it." I found the exact spot where her injury was and pressed down on it, hard. She winced, her face twisting in pain, but she didn't push me away. "Will you calm down? Please?" Vivian rubbed her head gently against mine. "I'll go see Daryl at the hospital, just this once. Once he's a little better, I swear I'll never see him again." "Can't you just not go? I honestly can't tell anymore who it is you actually love." She let go of my arm. "It's not the same thing, Stuart. Stop being like this. You're the only one who's ever going to be my husband." "And what if Daryl had never broken up with you back then?" Vivian went quiet. Chapter 4 Vivian drove off, kicking up a gust of scorching wind. I reached for my chest out of habit, and that was when I noticed my neck was bare. I'd worn that sapphire pendant for six years. Back when we first started dating, I'd come down with a cold, and Vivian had personally picked out the stone and carved it herself. Back then, she'd moved her entire workload into our house and stayed glued to my side without a moment's rest. I'd teased her once. "It's just a cold. You don't need to make such a fuss." Vivian had wrapped her arms around me, shaking her head over and over. "I just need you safe. Watching you sick is worse than if someone tried to kill me." By the time I got to the hospital, Vivian was carefully slipping the sapphire pendant around Daryl's neck. "We can't do this," Daryl said through tears, "Stuart is the one who saved my life. I can't let him get hurt over this." Vivian pulled him into her arms. "You're just too kind for your own good. Can't you think of yourself a little more?" Daryl didn't answer. Vivian patted his back gently. "I already had the house transferred into your name. Everything inside it, every last piece of furniture, is exactly the way you like it. "I'll leave with Stuart. Maybe we'll never get the chance to see each other again." The two of them held each other even tighter. In the dim of the night, they leaned into one another. I really had become the villain who tore two lovers apart. Vivian claimed, over and over, that she loved me, and then sold our house right out from under me without so much as asking. "Since this is the last time we'll ever see each other... can I take a photo with you? Like a wedding photo we never got to take, so I can pretend I really did marry you." "Do you want to wear a suit for it?" Daryl hesitated. "Is that really all right? It's so late already. The tailor's would have closed hours ago." "Stuart brought his suit home. If you don't mind, you can wear his." Vivian added, "Just as long as he never finds out." She stood up and took the car keys from the nightstand. I ducked into a corner right away and watched her walk out through the front door, step by step. And I walked off in the exact opposite direction. On the way to the airport, I called Kevin Hilliard, the Markman family's longtime butler. "Kevin, wrap up the suit for me, exactly the way I told you, and leave a note on top of it. "I've transferred your final pay to you. After tonight, you don't need to come to work anymore." He'd known my plan from the very start. He didn't need me to say another word. He had everything ready in no time and sent me photos of it right away. By the time Vivian rushed home, the suit was lying in its box, a stack of papers weighing down on top of it. The house was silent. Not a single soul in sight. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. She stepped closer, one step at a time, and the moment she made out what was written on that note, her pupils blew wide.