The ward was quiet now, nearing the end of the day.
The old man sat by his wife’s bed, holding a bony, colourless hand. A hand that he had held and loved for a lifetime. A full and happy life that he wouldn’t have changed for anything. He is at one with all its ups and downs. She had been there with him through all of them. She had been there from the beginning. The beginning… the Laundromat he used, coming home. The girl behind the counter. Her with her blue eyes and happy face. His longing to talk to her. Not about clothes or dry-cleaning or prices. Talk to her in a coffee bar or just somewhere else.
A smile creased his old face. He had finally asked her out. And what about his surprise when she laughed and said yes. How foolish he felt that day. Realising that she had been waiting for him to pluck up the courage. He stroked her thinning hair away from her face. That day in the laundromat, how precious it was. How often through the years had he thought back to it? Even later, when the owners sold up and moved on, it didn’t take his memories away. Not a bit of it. His recollections held fast. They kept him where he needed to be. He pulled a tissue from the side and dabbed his eyes. Happy eyes, giving tears of joy. Joy from such happy memories. He sat back and looked at the clock. He looked around. Visitors were leaving.
He closed his eyes. It was a stroke that brought her here. Not enough blood flowing to a major part of her brain stem, the doctors had told him. They said it was a coma, a state of prolonged unconsciousness. That was nearly a week ago. A week of coming in the morning and leaving in the evening. He looked at the clock again. He always obeyed visiting hours. The nurses appreciated it. He knew she was being looked after; given the best of care, but… what could he do? How could he contribute? He felt so desperate, so helpless. He would come again tomorrow, and tomorrow, until there was change. Every night, at home, now an empty shell of a place, he prayed for change.
He stood up slowly. He leant over her and kissed her forehead.
The heart monitor beeped a little faster. One eye opened slowly, and a soft smile rippled over a pale, wrinkled face. As beautiful as the day he met her. The day he walked into the local Laundromat, that isn’t there anymore.
“You always did make my heart beat faster,” she whispered.
He began to sob with joy.