Let's Get Married

“Let’s get married.”

I turn towards the voice only to find my lifelong friend, Alfred, standing in the doorway to my room. His bouncy locks of blonde hair have long ago turned into flat pieces of steel, and his young tan face is covered with wrinkles from age. His once straight mature posture is now slouched from years of hard labor and medical conditions. The young bachelor that I once knew is now an old man that has suffered.

“Come again?” I ask, my shaky voice echoes through the room.

He walks towards me. He’s dressed in a blue button-down with long khaki pants and leather shoes. He may have grown older, but his sense of style never grew with him. I took note of his face. His mouth is drawn in a lazy smile and his normally sadden eyes are filled with a new emotion, desperation. He takes a sit in the cheap plastic chair that stands beside my bed.

We sit for a couple of seconds. Studying each other. The only sounds in the room were our soft breathing and the occasional beep from the machines.

“I said,” His low scratchy voice rang in my ears. “That we should get married.”

“Have you been taking your meds?” I questioned. It is not unusual for Alfred to not take his meds, for his memory deteriorated along with his age.

He chuckled; his eyes squinting as his gruff laughter filled the air. “No, I took my meds, the new nurse made sure of that.”

“Then why would you make such a silly demand?” I was beyond confused. If he is in the right state of mind, then why is he saying such ridiculous things?

“Because I want to know how you would respond.”

“How I would respond? I think my response would be fairly obvious, Alfred.”

“Clearly it isn’t if you haven’t answered.”

I could fill my mouth hanging open as I gape at him. My eyes widening from the outrageous demand along with the snappy comeback. When disbelief and shock faded from my system and only anger remained, I gritted my teeth and glared at his relaxed facade.

“My answer is no, Alfred” I snapped. I could feel my boney fingers clench and unclench the bed sheets, the occasional pop of my joints is my only confirmation. He seemed to sense my rage for he sat up straight, set his shoulders, and locked his gaze with my glare. His pale face turned blank and his eyes grew stony.

“No need to get defensive, Rose. I was just asking,” He raised his arms in an ‘I surrender’ move. Trying to play off his disrespectful demand as an innocent question.

“You had no right to ask me that,” I retorted. “What was your reasoning behind asking anyway?”

He stared at me for a while and then took a breather. He unhinged his shoulders and appeared to deflate. He put his head in his hands and just breathed. When my patience started to turn into none, he looked up at me. When his eyes found mine, I could feel my anger vanish, the look in his eyes is a look that I have seen once before and a look that I have never wanted to see again. His eyes shined with defeat. He has given up. Last time I saw that look in his eyes was the day his wife died.

“I can’t do this anymore, Rose,” His voice quivered and his eyes watered. “I can’t spend the rest of my days alone. I cannot take another second of sitting in my bed and the only thing that seems to keep me grounded are sounds from the machines that proceed to remind me that I am still here while she is not,” Tears started to flow down his face. “I miss her, Rose. We were meant to be together till the end and at the very last moments she leaves me. And I’m alone.” He bows his head and his body began to shake.

Tears glisten in the bright ceiling lights as they fall to the floor.

I watch him sob. I watch as the man that I have known my whole life, the man that I have not once seen shed a tear, drown himself in his sorrow. I think back to the many nights where I could do nothing but sit and cry. The many nights where I could not move; I did not want to move. I just wanted the numbing pain of losing your soulmate to go away. And twenty years later I am still waiting for that pain to go away.

I turn my attention back to Alfred. His sobs have subsided, and he is sitting there heaving, trying to remember how to breathe.

“Alfred,” My voice cracked. “Look at me.”

His head was still facing the ground and his body was slumped from exhaustion. Probably due to the emotional scene moments before. He shook his head ‘No’ like a stubborn child.

“Alfred,” I said. My voice demanding. “Look at me”

He stills for a moment and slowly raises his head. His cheeks and nose are stained pink and fresh tear tracks fall down his checks. His eyes remain glassy but focused on me. He looks more like a six-year-old that lost his toy instead of a broken eighty-year-old man. I look into his eyes and mixed with the blur of tears are so many emotions. Sadness, desperation, loneliness, and the unmistakable look of being lost. He has the same eyes that I have had for the last twenty years

“Rose,” His stuffy voice brought me back to reality. “I can’t take being alone anymore. I cannot take this constant pain, this reminder. I need relief. Please.”

“Getting remarried isn’t going to lesson the pain, Alfred.” I remind him.

“I know,” He gives me a watery smile. “But it’ll give us the comfort of not dying alone.”

I look down at my sheets and wage my options. I felt a shaky hand take my wrinkled one and glance up. Green eyes met blue ones.

“Rose, will you marry me?”

I think back to the first time I heard those words. I think back to that hot summer day, to the spinning carnival rides, to the distant sounds of people of all ages laughing. And in Alfred’s place is my husband. His black hair slicked back by gel that glistens in the summer sun. His large caramel hand holding my pale one. Him being on one knee with the biggest smile on his face. And his large brown eyes starting directly into mine with love, adoration, and a promise to stay with me.  And then I blink, and the scene is gone. Instead of it being a hot summer day with laughter filling the air, I am sitting in bed at a nursing home with the cool air hitting my face. And instead of my dashing husband holding my hand, it is my tormented friend. And instead of my loving husband’s eyes staring into mine with adoration, it is Alfred’s desperately searching mine for an answer. Searching for any possibility that we might find comfort in each other’s arms.

And with the distant memory of my late husband, and the familiar pain of longing, I say “Yes.”