For better, for worse, for whom?

Here’s a piece of writing prompt fiction. This is a 10-minute “deadman’s switch” letter prompt. This is from one of Tim Clare’s weekly writing prompts, which you can sign up for here – you can never have too many writing prompts.

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Dear James,

it’s about time we talked. Please forgive the nature of our “discussion” but some things I could never have said to your face. I hate questions. Always have, as you know.

I was sick for a long time. You know that too. I apologise for wasting your time with things you know. I’m working my way to the core of the matter.
When I started losing my hair. That’s when it started. I was sick and losing my hair, feeling terrible. Shortly after you started coming home late, working at weekends. Sleeping at the office so as “not to wake you.”
I was sick, James, not stupid. I knew what was happening.

When you lost your job I didn’t go looking for someone who could spend money, get me the things I wanted. So it hurt. When I got sick you went and found someone healthy. And then she died and you came back for a while.
You never realised I was getting better. I wasn’t physically sick, just sick at the sight of you, at the feel of your skin, your hangdog look when you accompanied me to the doctor.

Well. I’m fine now, James. And I’m so sorry you feel bad. Hurts, doesn’t it? And the gnawing worry of the last day.
I look forward to when your pain is over. That life insurance policy should make up for a lot.
There’s no point worrying about it, God has a plan. That’s what you used to tell me.

So lie there and close your eyes. Once I’ve finished reading this to you I’m going to burn it. No don’t get up,

Goodbye.