1
WARWICK
THREE YEARS AGO
Why are hospital parking garages so damn complicated? Like, park here, walk half a football field over here to get your ticket by the elevators, return to your car to put the ticket in the window, then walk all the way back to the elevators to go downstairs, make your way through the parking lot, dodge emergency vehicles, get across the street, check-in, go up to the cancer floor, and walk another football field’s length to get to the person you’re visiting.
I pass an elderly gentleman sitting in the atrium, and he’s breathing just as heavily as I am.
“Did the parking garage get you?” I ask, placing my hands on my thighs to catch a breath
He nods, inhaling deeply. “What the fuck is that about?”
“I dunno.” I shrug and fake a smile. “Drumming up new customers?”
He laughs, then wheezes, and I sit with him a second to make sure he doesn’t need actual medical help.
“Who are you here to see?” he asks, interest shining in his eyes.
I smile, though it feels a little sad. Not sure why, but I go with the honest answer. “The love of my life.”
“Yeah? Then what’re you doing procrastinating out here with me?”
It’s a good question, and I hate the answer. God, I fucking hate the answer. And I don’t know why, but I stick with the truth.
“Well, sir, that’s a two-parter. One, she’s near the end. And two, I am not the love ofherlife. So…yeah.”
His smile is kind as he grabs my arm. “Sometimes life is a real kick in the balls.”
I nod. “True. But…it didn’t hurt, loving her.”
“No?”
I shake my head. “No. I, uh, work for her and her husband, actually.”
“Why would you do that to yourself?” he asks.
Another really excellent question.
I shrug, trying to go for an unbothered look. “I…I never really had a family before, you know? I’d just been given a medical discharge from the Marine Corps. Didn’t have a place to call home, and I’d found a family like none I’d ever seen. I just…they took me in, accepted me, and gave me purpose.”
“And you fell in love with the wife?”
“And a little with the husband, if I’m being perfectly honest.”
I look over, wondering if the old coot is as homophobic as his age would suggest. The sympathetic look on his face is unexpected and sorta brutal. Like a roundhouse to my chest.
“But yeah. I was never gonna cause them any trouble.”
“Son, put on a brave face if you want, but that must have been agony.”
I shake my head, telling the God’s honest truth. “Even if I couldn’t stand directly in her sun, the indirect light was enough for me.”
I play back what I said and then slap my thigh, laughing. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get overly sentimental.”
“It’s okay. I’m an old man. I like sentimental.”
He’s still got a hold of my arm. Like maybe he needs a little courage too.
