"Yeah, the evil twin just killed her sister, so, you know, it's pretty important."
Fire erupted in her stomach and she leapt like a hyena onto his bed, ripping the remote from his hand before throwing it into the TV, shattering the glass with satisfying force.
He jerked forward, but she held him down, staring at him until he finally met her gaze.
"Listen to me. You're going to explain how you're magically healed. Or I can get my lawyer to have you explain it to a jury."
"Will you at least get off of me?"
"No."
He sighed. "I don't really think this is appropriate."
She lifted him off the bed and slammed his shoulders into the bedpost with a loud thunk. Based on the wild look in his eyes, that had finally gotten his attention.
"All right, well, I've been really improving these past few weeks," he coughed the saddest fake cough the world had ever seen before he continued, "but I've just been so lonely and Gretel was really patient with me." He tried to make his chin quiver, but it looked more like a baby learning how to nod its head for the first time.
"So Gretel Miracle Worker-ed you until you could do her against the wall?"
"Well, it didn't really start against the wall, per say."
"Mmmhmm," she huffed, rolled off of him, and then grabbed his charts from the bottom of his bed. After years of sitting through all of his tests and procedures, she'd learned to decipher most of what they said, though doctor handwriting was still something of a mystery. "Well this is odd."
"What's that?" He groaned and rolled over in the bed, pulling his sheets over his face.
"All of your specialists say you're doing fine. The checkups for the drug treatments say you're performing at record rates. And yet Gretel's reports say that you're getting worse every day. Isn't that curious?" She threw the clipboard onto the ground.
"Well, some days are better than others." Even he couldn't make his response sound less lame than it was.
"Get your shit and go," she said, crossing back to the door.
"But baby, I'm so sick. I need you," he gave another deplorable excuse for a cough.
"Well thank goodness you have Gretel to care for you. And she's a nurse. I'm sure she could take care of you for a long time with all the money you two have been stealing from me."
"Well, stealing is a little—"
"While you were lying about your illness—"
"More a sin of omission, wouldn't you—"
"Do I look like I'm interested?" She was fighting the urge not to douse the place in gasoline and watch it all go up in flames. She couldn't think about the repercussions. Right now, she only had one mission—and that was getting rid of her almost-lawfully-wedded lowlife once and for all. "Pack up your shit and leave."
She slammed the door behind her, and collected a few pieces of fruit from the kitchen, stuffing them in her purse before she made her way to the door. She wouldn't be here while he packed everything away, asking for help because his hands seized up or whatever else he could come up with to get out of the work.
She opened the door, but a burst of air and loud thunks against the hard wood floor distracted her. The door slammed with the force of Lance's impact as he smashed his body against it.
He could run? What a complete idiot she'd been. What are terrible freaking leech he was.
"Rachie, don't leave me. I don't remember what life is like without you. We're so good together. You and me, baby. College sweethearts. Don't do this." He grabbed her elbows and tried to pull her in for a kiss, but it was awkward and angular. They were too out of practice to start now, even if he hadn't just
been caught banging the help.
She stepped from his embrace, her skin crawling where he’d touched her, "Let me remind you what it's like, then. You're going to work. You're going to take care of yourself. And you can screw all the nurses you want, though it probably won't be free of charge anymore."
She pushed past him, not listening to his shouts as she got to her car and then started the engine. The only yell she did catch was, "You were the one who wanted to get married, anyway. I don't need you!" as her car pulled out onto the street.
Maybe he didn't need her. Really, that was good news. The best news she’d gotten in a long time. But the best part, the most important part, was that she didn't need him either.