When I lifted my eyes to the man in the bed, I knew him the instant I looked up from the chart.<\/p>\n
Fifty-six years hadn\u2019t erased that face. Thomas was thinner, paler, hollowed out by whatever was eating him from the inside, but those eyes were the same eyes that had begged me to stay when we were teenagers.<\/p>\n
He smiled as if he\u2019d been waiting for me.<\/p>\n
\u201cHello, Evelyn,\u201d he said, as soft as a Sunday morning.<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t speak for a moment. I just stood there with the blood pressure cuff in my hand, feeling my whole life catch up to me in one hospital room.<\/p>\n
\u201cThomas,\u201d I finally managed. \u201cMy goodness. Thomas!\u201d<\/p>\n
After that, I found reasons to check on him every shift.<\/p>\n
We laughed about our gray hair and our bad knees, and sometimes we didn\u2019t talk at all. We just sat together.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou still take your coffee black?\u201d he asked one afternoon.<\/p>\n
\u201cStill do.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI knew it.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was something odd about how calm he was. Most patients in his condition were angry, scared, or numb. Thomas seemed almost peaceful, like a man who\u2019d been holding his breath for a long time and could finally let it out.<\/p>\n
One morning, Thomas asked me, as carefully as a man stepping onto thin ice, \u201cDo you have family nearby, Evelyn? Anyone looking in on you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust a distant cousin. Raymond. He\u2019s been calling more lately.\u201d<\/p>\n
Thomas\u2019s jaw tightened, just for a second. Then it relaxed, and he changed the subject to the weather.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t think much of it at the time.<\/p>\n
Raymond\u2019s calls got stranger that same week.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you seeing anyone, Evelyn? At your age, you shouldn\u2019t be alone. Family should have each other\u2019s backs.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m fine, Raymond.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHave you thought about a will? God forbid, but you know. Somebody responsible ought to be listed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI said I\u2019m fine.\u201d<\/p>\n
He asked about my bank and the apartment. He mentioned Aunt Margaret again and how he\u2019d \u201chelped her with everything\u201d at the end. I remembered Margaret dying alone in a rented room, and I couldn\u2019t figure out why that sat so wrong in my stomach.<\/p>\n
I brushed it off. I always brushed things off. That was my whole life in one sentence.<\/p>\n
Then came the afternoon.<\/p>\n
Thomas asked me to sit down.<\/p>\n
His hand found mine on the blanket. It was cold and light as a bird.<\/p>\n
\u201cSweetheart,\u201d he said, \u201cI feel terrible asking you this. I\u2019ve loved you my entire life. I know I\u2019m going to die soon. But I\u2019ve always dreamed of marrying you. Will you marry me? It\u2019s my last wish.\u201d<\/p>\n
I could barely breathe. I couldn\u2019t even blink.<\/p>\n
Fifty-six years of \u201cwhat if,\u201d and here it was, thin and dying in a hospital bed, asking me the one question I\u2019d never let myself imagine.<\/p>\n
A voice in my head that sounded exactly like Raymond hissed, \u201cFoolish old woman, don\u2019t you dare!\u201d<\/p>\n
And another voice, the one I\u2019d silenced at 17, said, \u201cSay yes! For once in your life, say yes!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d I whispered. \u201cThomas, yes.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes filled with tears. So did mine.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou won\u2019t regret it,\u201d he said. \u201cI promise you that, Evelyn. On my life, you won\u2019t regret it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t understand then why he\u2019d said it like that, like a vow that meant more than the wedding itself.<\/p>\n
I only understood I\u2019d just agreed to marry a dying man; my hands wouldn\u2019t stop shaking, and somewhere across town, Raymond was probably already dialing my number.<\/p>\n
The wedding took place three days later, right there in Thomas\u2019s hospital room.<\/p>\n
A nurse stood as our witness, and so did a quiet man in a gray suit who introduced himself as Mr. Vance, Thomas\u2019s attorney.<\/p>\n
I thought it was a little odd to have a lawyer at a bedside wedding. But my high school sweetheart squeezed my hand, and I let the thought go.<\/p>\n
His eyes shone when he said his vows. Mine did too.<\/p>\n
After the small ceremony, Mr. Vance pulled a folder from his briefcase and set it on the rolling tray table.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust a few papers, Evelyn,\u201d he said kindly. \u201cStandard things. Take your time.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t take my time. I signed each one right where he pointed, trusting Thomas the way you trust the sun to come up.<\/p>\n
That evening, my phone rang. Raymond again.<\/p>\n
\u201cHave you lost your mind?!\u201d he snapped when I told him about the marriage. \u201cMarrying a dying man you barely know?!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve known him longer than I\u2019ve known you,\u201d I said quietly.<\/p>\n
\u201cEvelyn, listen to me. You\u2019re being manipulated. Some stranger sees an old nurse with a pension and dangles a sob story, and you fall for it? Annul it! Today!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I won\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou foolish woman! You don\u2019t understand what you\u2019re doing!\u201d<\/p>\n
I hung up.<\/p>\n
A month later, Thomas was gone.<\/p>\n
He passed in the early morning, peaceful, with my hand in his. The grief hit me harder than I expected, considering we\u2019d only had a handful of weeks. But sometimes a handful of weeks can hold almost six decades within them.<\/p>\n
The funeral was small. I stood by the grave and let myself cry.<\/p>\n
Raymond showed up, of course.<\/p>\n