Again, I love you beyond words and writing. You have been the best thing in my life, and know that no matter what happened to me, my last thoughts were of you.
Love,
Carl"
The inner envelope contained a copy of my will and my most recent brokerage account statements, along with written instructions to John, Missy Talmadge, and my accountant about helping Marilyn manage her money. Marilyn had opened this envelope as well. Both letters were smudged and spotted and crinkled up, and it took me a few seconds to realize it was from tears. I felt even lower than before.
Marilyn was crying as she watched me read the letter I had written her. "How can you say things like that? I love you! I'll never find a man better than you! You know I hate it when you run yourself down like that!"
Oh, shit! I opened my arms and she collapsed against my chest, crying. In doing so, she shifted on the bed and nudged my right leg, which made me want to scream, but I held it in. Better to lose the damn thing than piss her off any more. I just caressed her back and told her repeatedly that I loved her and was sorry for making her cry.
Eventually she relented and sat up again, once more hitting my leg, and I bit my tongue a second time. I also hit the button to call the nurse and get some morphine going! Marilyn picked up the second envelope and waved it at me. "I read through this, but I don't understand. You have a brokerage account that's worth millions of dollars? That can't be right!"
I rubbed my face again, and smiled at my wife. "Actually, it is. Marilyn, I'm a millionaire. A multimillionaire, actually. I'm probably worth about thirty-five million by now, maybe a bit more. I'm not sure, actually."
"You don't know!", she asked, a look of astonishment on her face.
"Honey, it's not like I've had a chance to look at the Wall Street Journal lately. It's not just in cash, it's in stocks, too."
"When? How? Why didn't you say something!?"
"I was going to tell you soon, anyway. I've been trading stocks since I was a kid. I'm very good at it. I made my first million before I ever met you. It's how I could buy a car and have my own apartment back when I was a teenager living in Maryland."
"You should have said something!"
"I was going to. I didn't tell anyone. Can you imagine the nuttiness if they'd known about this at the frat house!? Or girls? How would I know if they loved me or my wallet!? You loved me for me! I was going to tell you when we moved to Fort Sill. I told you I would buy you a house, right?"
"Yes.", she agreed, nodding her head.
"I was going to pay cash, no mortgage. Captains don't have that kind of money, Marilyn. I was going to tell you then."
Marilyn just stared at me, stunned. Finally she just muttered, "Wow!"
"It wasn't a lie, honey! I just didn't tell you everything!", I pleaded with her.
She swatted me a few times with the letters, which got rid of whatever mad she had, which couldn't have been much. "You and your sins of omission and commission! You'd have made a fine Jesuit!"
I smiled at her. "I'd never be able to handle the vows of celibacy!"
Marilyn blushed, and her eyes dropped down to my midsection. When I caught her doing that, she blushed even more. However, she recovered, and said, "Speaking of which..."
"Ah, yes, well, nothing is happening anytime soon. They've got a catheter in me. I have no idea when that's coming out. Soon, I hope. What about you? Are you able to, well, you know..."
Marilyn smiled and nodded. "I'm all healed up."
"What about the Pill? I'm guessing you're off that still.", I asked.
"Yes. I wonder when I can start that again.", she admitted.
I grinned at her. "You're at the U.S. Army's premier hospital in the entire world. I bet you can find a doctor here to answer that question. In fact, I'll bet you a million dollars that you can find a doctor here who can answer your questions!"
Marilyn's face lit up. "But I don't have a million dollars! What if I lose?"
I leered at her. "I'm sure we can find something else of value to wager. Maybe I'll take it out in trade."
Marilyn snorted and picked up Charlie who was fussing and waking up. A different nurse also came in, in response to my call for more pain meds. "You called?", she asked, pleasantly.
"My leg is bothering me. Any chance I can get something for it."
She looked at my chart and nodded. "Give me a few minutes and I'll bring something."
"Thank you. Hey, can I ask a couple of questions?"
"Carl!", protested Marilyn.
"Sure.", answered the nurse, who eyed Marilyn.
I ignored Marilyn. "How long is this catheter going to be in?", I turned to my wife. "Honey, she's a nurse. Trust me, we can ask her."
Nurse Greghams laughed. "Very true. As to the catheter, I can't really say. At least not until after your surgery, but you can ask the doctor tomorrow. Anything else?"
"My wife needs to go back on the Pill. Any chance you can help with that?"
Marilyn squealed in embarrassed outrage, but the nurse just laughed and asked Marilyn what brand she had used. "You'll need to see one of the OB-GYNs, but I can call and see about getting you an appointment."
Marilyn slugged my shoulder, and then sweetly said, "Thank you. Please."
Nurse Greghams laughed some more and then left to get me some hospital quality meds.
It was also time for Marilyn and Charlie to leave. We had been talking the entire afternoon, and still had so much more to say. My son woke up enough to sit in my lap and play with my fingers some more, and then I kissed him and his mother good-bye. I was perhaps more enthusiastic with his mother. Marilyn promised to return early the next morning and we would talk some more. The surgeon was supposed to come along in the morning and go over things with me also, so if the timing was good, she could sit in on it.
The next day was a Sunday. Marilyn got there in time to watch me finishing my juice and toast. I was now eating normal meals, or at least as normal as hospital meals get. Part of the liquids only was that by the time I got to the hospital I had been without food for a number of days, and surviving on Lurps for most of the time before that. If I had managed to get a real meal, I'd have puked it up in no time.
Marilyn was nursing Charlie when the surgeon came in. He had good news and he had bad news. The good news was that he wouldn't have to amputate, and I wouldn't need a knee replacement yet. The bad news was that I had some surgery to repair ligaments coming, and I would need rehab for months. Ultimately I would need a new knee, and in the meantime, I would probably be able to predict the weather. He had a model of a knee and pictures of all the ligaments, and it was just gibberish to me. Worst of all, they wouldn't know how bad it was until they cut me open.
In the early Eighties, most hospital imaging was still limited to old fashioned X-rays. While CT scans and PET scans and MRI scans had all been invented, the equipment involved was ludicrously expensive and very rare. Certainly the Army didn't have this stuff. It would take the coming digital revolution to bring costs down to the point where they would be commonplace. The same applied to the surgery itself. Arthroscopic surgery was still experimental. They were going to have to cut me open the old fashioned way, with long zippers and extensive recovery time. Surgery was scheduled for Monday morning, and Marilyn was asked to stay away. I would be unconscious for hours, and there was nothing she could do; they would call her when I woke up.