Chapter 8 - A Signature That Wasn't Mine
The signature looked close enough to mine to fool someone who saw it only for a second. The last letter curled in the wrong direction. Beatriz had watched me sign birthday cards, school forms, checks. She knew my handwriting better than she knew my favorite food.
"Where did she get this?" I asked.
The social worker turned the page. "It was presented at registration. The hospital hasn't relied on it for your treatment, and we're reviewing it. We need to make sure your wishes are respected."
The document claimed I had authorized Beatriz to receive private medical information and speak for me. I hadn't signed it. I hadn't even seen it.
Daniel leaned forward. "Mom said Mariana asked her to handle everything because pregnancy made her anxious."
"Do you believe that?" I asked.
"No. Not anymore."
"Not anymore," I repeated. Those two words felt like a locked door.
The social worker documented my objection, arranged for staff to restrict visitors according to my wishes, and advised me about reporting suspected forgery. I asked that Beatriz not be allowed into my room or near the nursery.
"You have that choice," she said.
When she left, I asked Daniel to open our shared calendar. Three prenatal appointments had disappeared over the previous month. Each had a message beside it: CANCELLED BY PATIENT. I remembered being told the clinic had staffing problems. I had called once and reached voicemail.
"Your mother had your old tablet," I said.
Daniel shook his head slowly. "She told me she was using it for recipes."
I laughed once, a sound without humor. "She wasn't trying to learn how to cook. She was trying to run my life."
A notification flashed on Daniel's phone. Beatriz had posted a message in the extended family group: PRAY FOR OUR POOR FAMILY. MARIANA HAS BEEN CONFUSED FOR MONTHS. WE ARE DOING EVERYTHING TO PROTECT THE CHILDREN.
Underneath, relatives were already asking who would take Alma.
May you like
Then a new message appeared, private this time.
IF YOU KEEP THAT WOMAN AWAY FROM MY GRANDCHILDREN, DANIEL, I WILL TELL EVERYONE WHAT YOU DID LAST WINTER.
