PART 10 – The Next Morning, I Found the Same Unpaid Bills on My Counter, but I Could No Longer Look at Them Without Thinking About the Missing Transfers

Maisie woke before sunrise.

I warmed her bottle and sat with her in the kitchen while the apartment slowly brightened.

The unpaid bills were still spread across the counter.

One envelope had a red notice printed near the top.

Another contained a statement I had already read so many times that I knew the balance without opening it.

I moved them aside to make room for the bottle.

Then I stopped.

March fourteenth.

March twenty-eighth.

April fifth.

The dates kept returning.

I wondered whether the money had been sitting in an account somewhere while I called the hospital asking for more time.

I wondered whether I had thrown away any letters that might have explained what was happening.

I searched the small drawer where I kept important papers.

There were discharge instructions, appointment reminders, receipts, and a folded sheet from the hospital.

Nothing mentioned Grandma's money.

I checked the folder where I kept Owen's documents.

His old insurance paperwork was still there.

The policy had ended before his new coverage began.

I had read those pages so often that the dates were nearly worn from the creases.

There was nothing about the transfers.

I sat on the kitchen floor with the folder beside me.

Maisie played with a plastic spoon while I looked through the papers again.

I wasn't searching because I thought I would find the money.

I was searching because I wanted to know whether there had been something I should have noticed.

I found nothing.

By midmorning, my phone rang.

It was Grandma.

"How are you and Maisie doing?"

"We're all right."

I glanced at the bills.

It wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't entirely false either.

"I spoke with Miles this morning," she said. "He's reviewing the records."

"Did he find anything?"

"He's working through the documents. I don't want to give you an answer before he can support it."

I appreciated that.

I didn't need another guess.

"What happens now?" I asked.

"He'll examine the instructions, the account information, and the paperwork provided to him."

I held the phone against my ear.

"Will he need anything from me?"

"He may ask you to confirm whether certain documents are yours. If he does, we'll arrange that."

"All right."

There was a pause.

Then Grandma spoke again.

"I keep thinking about what you told me yesterday."

I didn't know what to say.

"I should have checked on you personally," she continued. "I let someone else tell me how you were doing."

I leaned against the cabinet.

"I didn't tell you everything either."

"That doesn't mean I shouldn't have asked."

I could hear something moving faintly on her end of the call.

Perhaps she was walking around her home.

I pictured her in Boston, going through the day with the knowledge that the money she had sent might not have reached me.

"I don't want you to blame yourself for everything," I said.

"I'm not blaming myself for everything, Natalie. I'm trying to understand what I failed to see."

That answer stayed with me after we ended the call.

I spent the afternoon making a list of my current expenses.

Rent.

Utilities.

Formula.

Diapers.

Medical payments.

I had done this many times before, usually late at night when Maisie was asleep.

This time, I added a separate line for the bills connected to the accident.

The total was more than I wanted to look at.

I folded the paper and placed it beside the hospital statements.

I wasn't sure whether Grandma's money could be recovered.

I wasn't sure what Miles would discover.

I couldn't plan my future around a possibility.

So I did what I had always done.

I dealt with the next problem I could reach.

I called the hospital billing office.

I explained that I was still recovering financially and asked whether I could make a smaller payment.

The woman on the phone reviewed my account.

She gave me instructions for the next step.

I wrote them down.

When the call ended, I felt tired but a little steadier.

There were still problems to solve.

But I had made one call instead of sitting beside the bills wondering which one would become urgent first.

That evening, Paige messaged me.

She asked whether Maisie was sleeping better.

I told her the baby had been awake early but was doing well.

Then Paige wrote that she was sorry about Thanksgiving.

I stared at the message for a while.

Finally, I replied that I was glad I had come.

It was true.

I hadn't wanted to discover that someone might have taken money intended for us.

But I had wanted to know why Grandma thought she had helped me when I had received nothing.

Now the question was out in the open.

I put my phone down and picked up Maisie's blanket.

The loose thread was still there.

I tucked it beneath the edge and folded the blanket over the back of the chair.

It was a small thing.

But I wanted to keep it safe.

Click here to continue reading: PART 11: When Miles Asked Me to Verify the Paperwork, I Began to Understand That Someone Had Used My Difficult Months to Tell a Story I Never Knew About