Worth Waiting For

All the people had gathered into the church for the special occasion. Mick and his closest friends stood under the arbor that Mick had built, each one with his hands clasped in front of him, as they had been strictly forbidden from putting their hands in their pockets. Mick’s brother, Paul, had even been threatened that his pockets would be sewn shut if he couldn’t stop putting his hands in them. “It looks sloppy,” she had said.

The air-conditioned room began to feel stuffy to the guests, and Mick could see them all getting restless. His friend, Seth, was beginning to sway on his feet as he had done once at boot camp while they were standing at attention, just before he fell straight back and slammed into the ground. He had passed out from standing so long and locking his knees.

“Loosen up!” Mick hissed at him. Seth grunted, shuffled his feet a little and slightly bent his knees.

“How much longer?” Seth whispered to Paul, who shrugged his shoulders, a confused look on his face.

Mick looked at Olivia, his sister, who was standing at the doorway waiting for her cue to begin. He made a small gesture to her and she gave him a thumbs up response. Olivia then ducked outside and pulled the cell phone from the small clutch she carried and called for a progress check. There was no answer, but at that moment she noticed two cars pull quietly up to the portico.

As the ladies began exiting the cars, Olivia found out that there had been an incident, a fall, that held up the group. She felt the quizzical look on her own face as she searched the faces in the group for an explanation. “She doesn’t want to talk about it,” was the only answer.

“Okay, let’s go.” Olivia took in a sharp breath, approached the doorway, and gave her brother a big smile. The look of relief on his face almost made her cry. As each of the girls took their places, the music began.

Mick felt like he was dreaming as he watched her. He thought she must be as nervous as he, from the way she gripped her father’s arm. But as she hesitated with each step up to the arbor, he thought it was something more. He reached for her as she made her way toward him, his concern evident. “Are you okay?”

She smiled up at him. “I’m so sorry to make you wait.”

As the preacher pronounced them husband and wife, Mick whispered in her ear, “You are worth the wait.”

The months and years went by and the couple became settled in their life together. Mick noticed small stumbles and hesitations, but she always brushed them off, saying she was only tired. On an evening when they were to meet his family for dinner, Mick went to their room to see what was taking so long. He paused at the door as he watched her at her vanity table applying her make-up. She was having trouble gripping the brushes, dropping one in her lap as she was dabbing it at her cheek. Mick quietly back away, going to the kitchen to get a glass of tea. He texted his sister that they were running a little late and the group should start without them.

As Mick finished his tea, he heard her coming through the house, singing softly. “I am so sorry to make you wait,” she said as she gently took his hand. With his other hand, Mick slid his fingers into her hair at the nape of her neck, pulled her close, and breathed into her ear, “You are worth the wait.”

After the birth of their second child, her recuperation didn’t go as smoothly as expected. She went to her primary doctor as Mick suggested. Mick couldn’t believe his ears, or her response to the news; she seemed like everything was fine. When she told him that the lab tests the doctor had ordered, along with the physical examination, indicated she had autoimmune conditions, Mick felt gut-punched. How could this be? He researched her conditions, her medications, and made lists of things he could do to help her manage. As she had put it, there was no cure, so she should work to maintain her health as much as she could. He learned that he could play an integral part of this plan.

He worked to stay positive, at least in her presence. There were times that he just wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all, to punch something. He hung a punching bag in their garage and took up running. He would yell at God, at the universe, and sometimes at her while he ran through the trails at the nearby state park. He got occasional glares from others at the park, but he didn’t care.

As they were preparing to go to the beach for the day, Mick packed the truck with their cooler of drinks and snacks, chairs, and a canopy. The kids each brought their own towels, so all she had was her beach bag and her and Mick’s towels. After ensuring the kids were buckled safely in the back seat, Mick jumped into the driver seat of truck to get the air-conditioning going. As she made her way to the truck, Mick chatted with the kids and flipped through the stations on the radio. He knew not to watch her, that made her feel rushed. He knew not to try to help, she’d ask for help if she needed it. As she struggled and repeatedly said, “I’m sorry,” Mick softly touched her hand and said, “Take your time.” She smiled, thanked him, took a deep breath, and pulled herself into the truck. As she caught her breath she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, whispering, “I’m sorry to make you wait.” Mick took her hand, brought it to his lips and whispered onto her fingers, “You are worth the wait.” They laughed as the kids started chanting, “beach, beach, beach.”

Time ticked on, the kids grew up and moved on, and Mick continued expressing his love in so many ways. Not just the strong yet gentle way he helped her up from the floor, whether it was from a fall or wanting to sit and play with their grandbaby. Not just the way he managed her medications because she would sometimes forget or be too weary to deal with it. And not just the way he kept their house clean and cozy because, although she tried, she was rarely able to see a task through to completion. Mick showed his love by asking her to go on dates with him, because he “wanted to show off that he had the prettiest girl on his arm.” He brought home little treats, seasonal fruits, chocolates, and the best, coconut pie. Many little things that said he knew his girl and loved her dearly.

Mick wanted to take her for her favorite meal, steak and crab legs, but knew the difficulty her conditions would cause in cutting the steak and cracking the crab legs would embarrass her in front of other people, so he got the food to go and brought it home as a special surprise. He arrived to find her sleeping; she had laid on their bed, but not under the covers. He knew she had just meant to rest a minute, because she was still wearing her shoes. He slid them off, shoelaces and buckles being impossible for her to handle, and covered her with the quilt from the foot of the bed. He moved into the kitchen and got the food set up on the table. He started to open a bottle of wine but decided to wait; if she was already tired, wine might make her feel worse. He opened a beer, sat at his desk answering emails and catching up on the news. She entered the kitchen and let a out a little gasp, her hands covering her mouth. Mick chuckled as he walked up behind her, put his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. She turned to face him and pressed a kiss to his lips. Tilting her head back, she said, “I’m so sorry to make you wait.” As he gently smoothed down her bed-mussed hair and noticed the smudge of make up under her eyes, and said, “You are worth the wait.”

This was not the only time she napped during the day; they became more and more frequent. Some days she was unable to get out of bed at all except for going to the bathroom. The doctor explained that as her body fought against itself, she would feel weaker. Mick felt helpless. She rolled over to face him as they were falling asleep one night, and tenderly stroked his graying hair. “I know you want to protect me. I know you want me to feel better. My body is fighting against itself, but I’m fighting, too. You help in so many ways; without you I would be in much worse shape. I fight my conditions for you, for us. I want to use my good days doing things with you, that makes my bad days better because I have the memories of the good times.”

And so, they did. A couple or three times each month, when she had the strength, they did some of their favorite things. They went on picnics, took their grandbaby to the park, spent hours on the beach searching for perfect shells. They went to amusement parks, and while the experience was limited to accommodate her tolerance, they laughed and took pictures, and ate lots of unhealthy foods from the vendors. Mick worried that the effort she made wasn’t good for her, but the glimpses of joy on her face kept him from being able to deny her anything.

Then the good days were less often. The days she was unable to leave their bed more frequent. She apologized over and over, telling Mick that she would get strong again soon and they could have another adventure. She smiled weakly, saying, “I’m so sorry to make you wait.” He had tears in his eyes as she closed her eyes on a sigh.

All the people had gathered into the church for the special occasion. Mick and his closest friends stood under the arbor that Mick had built so many years ago, each one with his hands clasped in front of him, as they had been strictly forbidden from putting their hands in their pockets. “It looks sloppy,” she had said. The low din of the guests grew quiet as her casket was rolled in. As the attendant opened the lid, Mick felt the tears falling down his face. He gently took her hand in his, leaned over and kissed her face. He whispered, “You were worth the wait.”