At nine, I asked mama what marriage means. She told me that two people love each other and they decide to be together forever. I asked mama a lot of questions. My life was filled to the brim with questions. They overflowed like the toilet when I tore out my IV and tried to flush it down. Questions spilled out of me as vomit does every time doctors put the gas mask on my face. But the biggest question of all wasn’t about what it means to be married. The scariest question wasn’t even related to medicine and surgeries. At nine, I asked mama what happened to Asher.
***
I shared my room with Asher. It was the sterile, plain corner of the hospital that we claimed as our own. Mama hung all of my fairy drawings with medical tape at the end of my bed. Asher lined his collection of socks along the shelf in the little sliding closet.
“You’re weird,” I said with a giggle and pointed to his pile of socks. Asher shot me a glare then shoved another pair into an empty pillowcase. His black hair bounced from the jarring movement. He must be feeling pretty good today. The dark curls never moved when Asher had a fever. Instead, the hair plastered to his damp forehead, looking dead.
“At least I’m not a little baby who has her mommy here all the time!” he said. My mouth dropped open. I tore a piece of paper out of my sketchbook, crumpled it up, and threw it at him. It fell short of his face hitting his stomach and falling to the floor. Asher stuck out his pink tongue and then kicked the paper under his bed. When mama walked into the room the smell of old food and dish soap drowned out the bleach and plastic that surrounded my life.
“Hi!” Asher said nearly shouting for mama’s attention. She ruffled his hair as she walked by.
“Ew don’t touch him, Mama,” I said. She responded with a raised eyebrow and collapsed into the chair next to my bed. The stains from washing the dishes of rich people’s fancy meals covered her blue T-shirt. “He’s weird and gross and icky and collects socks like a dog!”
“That’s enough!” mama shouted before saying my full name, first, middle, and last through her clenched teeth. She grabbed my arm and whispered into my ear. “Asher doesn’t have a lot of things to treasure. He keeps the socks the same way you keep every single little stuffed animal you’ve ever had. Don’t you dare tease him.”
I slumped my shoulders at the lecture but peeked over at Asher while Mama kept talking. He always hid the socks in a pillowcase and stuffed them in the back of the closet so the nurses wouldn’t take them away. He caught me looking at him and stuck out his tongue again. I tried my best not to giggle so mama wouldn’t get mad. He smiled knowing he was about to get me in more trouble.
Mama just didn’t understand that Asher liked it when I made fun of him. She didn’t know him as I did. Since we both suffered from the same congenital heart disease I insisted we were soulmates. We compared IV poles, and scars, and even scared a nurse into thinking we traded medicines. I grew tired of the pranks quicker than he did. Mama told me boys take longer to mature. Asher was only eight anyway.
***
Asher’s daddy came to visit once. I pretended to be asleep.
“Where’s mom?” Asher spoke over the rhythmic beeping of our heart monitors. I heard a sigh then his daddy’s voice whispering.
“Your mom isn’t coming,” he said. Shuffling caused me to peek one eye open. I saw his daddy for the first time. The man was tall, dark spots poked out all around his mouth, on his chin, and crawled up the side of his face disappearing into the dark bush on top of his head. Most of the male doctors had clean-shaven faces and I’d never seen my father. Asher’s daddy looked scary with all the facial hair. But he knelt down by my friend’s bed. He stretched out one hand and wrapped it around his son’s. Then he glanced toward me and I snapped my eye shut.
“Mom is gone,” his daddy said again. “She’s not coming back. I’m sorry.” A sniffle broke the silence that followed. I wanted to see if Asher was crying but refused to blow my cover. I kept my eyelids squeezed tight.
“But my surgery is tomorrow,” Asher’s voice got louder with each word.
“That’s why I came to see you tonight Ashe. I’m sure the doc knows what he’s doing. Don’t you worry. I’ll be here when you wake up okay?”
But he wasn’t there. I never saw Asher’s daddy again.
***
Two days before Asher’s big open heart surgery we snuck out of our room and stole a VHS tape off the playroom cart. Asher started describing crazy creatures for me to draw. He got tired of fairies and told me I needed more imagination. I argued. He laughed at me. When I pushed him and he pushed back. I screamed and then dared him to take the video “Lord of the Rings” off the cart. He stuck his nose in the air and marched out of the room. I ran to the edge of the room standing on the door’s threshold and peeked out. He glanced back at me as a nurse’s voice wafted out of the next room. I waved at him to keep going.
Mama didn’t allow me to watch the movie before. This time she was at work and wouldn’t know. She said I could when I turned thirteen as the rating suggested. I woke up sweaty and crying that night with images of screeching goblins. Asher sat up on the edge of his bed rubbing his eyes.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked. I pulled a blanket over my head but knew he could still hear my sniffling. I felt my mattress slump as Asher climbed into my bed. He didn’t even bother trying to see my face but put his arms around me, blanket and all. “It’s okay,” his voice sounded muffled through the fabric. “I was kinda scared of the monsters too. But dragons and stuff aren’t real.”
“There weren’t any dragons,” I curled my fingers over the top of the blanket and peeled it back to reveal my eyes.
“Uh uh,” he shook his head. “Balrog is just like a dragon. He breathes fire and everything.”
“But they’re not real,” I repeated the phrase trying to convince myself.
“Nope,” he said. “I wish surgeries weren’t real either.” I finally threw the blanket off my arms. It was my turn to hug him. Though his body was warm he trembled. I heard sniffles and squeezed tighter. Only two days until Asher’s big open heart surgery.
***
I begged the nurses to let me go into Asher’s post-op room. Miss Cait unhooked my heart monitor and pushed my IV pole alongside me as we took baby steps down the white hallway. Sun shone through the windows bouncing off the linoleum floor nearly blinding me. Mama always kept the curtains drawn in my room. The bright light surprised my unexpecting eyes.
The sticky bumps on the bottom of my socks squeaked across the floor as I shuffled faster. I couldn’t wait to tell Asher that the pediatric unit playroom had new magazines. We loved to sit together on the cushioned window seat in the sterile playroom and play the find-the-differences game with the pictures in the kid’s magazines.
When we got to the room Miss Cait broke my heart.
“We cannot go inside,” she said. “Little Asher is still in very critical recovery. We must only look from here.”
So I stood on my tiptoes. I stretched my feet and legs as tall as they would go and peeked into the narrow window slat on the door. The glass clouded with my hot breath as I stared at my friend. His tiny unconscious body sprawled across the pale sheets. The hospital bed propped him up in the sitting position. Even under all the tape, bandaging, and wires, I swore I saw a smile. I squeezed my eyes shut. There stood Asher, in medical armor, battling the dragon of disease, and winning. When I opened them again I traced my finger around in the fog my breath created on the window. Miss Cait had to shuffle her large hips fast to keep up now. I skipped, my socks squeaking with each hop. Before we rounded the corner from the PICU I glanced back at Asher’s room. The heart shape drawn in the fog almost disappeared now. I shrugged knowing Asher saw it through his closed eyes.
***
That afternoon I asked mama if Asher’s parents would bring him a treat soon. Mama always brought me treats after surgery. She surprised me with craft beading kits, butterfly clips, and Harry Potter books. Mama shook her head and told me that not all parents came to the hospital as much as she did. I wanted to ask Mama more but Miss Cait poked her head in. Asher had woken up and asked for me.
I hopped off the bed and scurried out of the room. This time I didn’t wait for the adults. I shoved my own IV pole along and hurried out of their sight. To some, the long hallways and identical doors seemed like a maze. I knew this maze like the back of my IV-bandaged hand. With the door to the refreshment room cracked open, I slipped inside. A burst of cold air reminded me of the wind I once felt in the mysterious outdoors. Pudding cups lined the refrigerator. I snatched two and rushed out in time to meet Mama and Miss Cait. I heard them say something about Asher and surrendering. I refused to believe it. As a strong warrior, Asher would never surrender to the dragon of disease. They immediately stopped talking when I approached.
As I suspected, Asher had a smile under all the pain. I plopped down on the edge of his bed and tore the lid off the pudding cup. I knew Miss Cait wouldn’t mind that it was my third pudding of the day.
Asher tried to sit forward to eat but when he moved, his nose scrunched up like a little bug on his face. He twitched and gasped then laid his head back against the white pillow. I scooted my butt closer to the head of the bed and thrust the spoon toward his mouth. He scowled.
“I’m not a baby,” he took the spoon and licked the thick chocolate goo off.
“I never said you were.” I stuck my nose in the air and peered down it at him. He handed the spoon back and I scooped a big glob out for myself. “Actually you’re not even close to being a baby. You’re braver than all the hobbits and elves and dwarves and wizards.”
“I am?” Asher’s green eyes widened into giant circles. He stared at me waiting for confirmation.
“Uhuh.” I licked a smudge of pudding off my top lip while nodding.
“Surgeries are scary like dragons,” he agreed.
“No,” I argued. “Surgeries are good and helpful, like the wizard who saves the day. Sickness is what’s scary.”
“Oh,” he dropped his eyes down at the bandaging on his chest. He lifted his hand bringing an IV tube with it. I watched as he traced his fingers along the medical tape.
“Disease is like a dragon,” I continued. “It’s what’s after us. Remember to never give up okay?” Asher smiled but I didn’t believe the words. I felt the electrical patterns in my chest strike pain with each heartbeat. My own surgery was scheduled in four weeks.
“You’re pretty like an elf.” Asher interrupted my fearful thoughts.
“What?”
“When you smile, you’re pretty like the lady elves. Or a princess. You’re more like a princess because you don’t have pointy ears.”
I felt my cheeks burning and looked down at the almost empty pudding cup. My heart pounded but I could no longer blame it on the defects I was born with. I glanced back up at Asher. Even with his dark hair plastered against his forehead, he was nice to look at. My head spun but my body felt warm like a piece of pie or a mug of hot chocolate.
I scraped the spoon around the plastic packaging and lifted it above my head. With pursed lips, I bubbled my best airplane sound and flew the utensil around in the air before shoving it in Asher’s face. We both laughed so hard that the chocolate goo slopped onto his bandages. I couldn’t wait to tell mama that Asher called me a princess.
***
My last surgery came fast. At ten, the doctors cleared me to be at home full time with only regular checkups. At thirteen, I needed one more surgery to replace a valve in my heart. I pushed it from my mind until the week it was scheduled.
Asher and I kept in contact with letters. Miss Cait broke the rules and continued giving me his address. He moved around a lot. Mama said he didn’t live with his parents anymore. His handwriting looked like lines of chicken’s scratch in the dirt. I could read it though. He told me about the school, about doctors’ appointments, about how he missed me. For a while, we ended up in the same school district and I got to see him at lunchtime. I wished for us to be in the same class. I even scolded him for not being smarter and skipping a couple of grades. Now he moved a few towns away again.
I sat in a bed in the surgical waiting room and doodled in a brand-new sketchbook. I drew a circle, then some ovals, and a vertical bridge to lips. I had no talent for faces. I spotted the cheeks with dark freckles and scribbled wavy hair on the head. Squinting I could almost see Asher.
Mama swished the curtain and walked back into the waiting area with a cup of coffee. I crumpled up the drawing and shoved it under the sheets. My face burned as a smaller figured followed behind Mama. Freckles disappeared in a crevice on the left side of Asher’s face as his crooked smile spread. I blinked wondering if I imagined him.
“Hiya,” he said. His twelve-year-old voice squeaked and cracked. My heart beat so hard I thought it would burst from my chest and the doctor could do the surgery right there in the waiting room. But it didn’t. Instead, I rubbed my sweaty hands against the hospital gown before scrunching my nose up at Asher and sticking out my tongue. He copied my actions and just like that I could have sworn we were back in that old room we shared. Mama hummed a low laugh as she relished in my happiness. She would do anything to make me feel better while in the hospital. I bared my teeth at her with a big grin.
“I’ll let you two catch up. I’m going to make a phone call to your aunt. She wants to visit after your surgery.” With that mama swished through the curtain again. Asher reminded me that dragons are scarier than surgeries. I argued against my own logic so he insisted I draw one. Then, he said, if I saw one and wasn’t frightened, then the surgery wouldn’t be scary either. I sketched a fire-breathing beast but drew zig-zagging lines from its mouth instead of flames.
“I’m scared,” I finally said. Asher nodded and shrugged.
“I’ve been scared too.”
“Like before your surgery?” The memory brought back how warm it felt to hug him. A tornado ripped through my stomach and then calmed to restless butterflies.
“Or like when they told me my parents weren’t coming back for me.” he twisted a wavy chunk of hair around one of his fingers.
“You were scared?” I asked. He shrugged and we fell silent for a moment.
“I thought I would be alone forever or something,” he said.
“Oh,” I picked at the medical tape on my hand. “You’ll just have to get married someday.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Remember how Doctor Hanley’s wife came to the hospital with all those donated toys? Mama told me they were married. Then she told me that marriage means two people are together forever. So you’d never have to be scared of being alone.”
“Oh.” It was all he said. I continued scribbling lines as scales along the dragon’s back. “I’m not scared of it anymore.”
“That’s good,” I said without looking up from the sketchbook. I stopped drawing when I felt Asher still looking at me. When I realized what he meant I blushed but didn’t look away. He smiled and his dimple swallowed the freckles again. The curtains whooshed as a nurse pushed them all the way open. Mama stood next to her.
“They’re going to take you in now,” she said. I swallowed a lump and glanced at Asher. His half-smiled melted down to a plain face.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll get some pudding and bring it to you when it’s over.” I nodded but couldn’t manage a smile. Other medical staff joined the nurse and they wheeled my bed away from the wall and through double doors. I glanced back at Mama and Asher.
“You’ll be okay,” he said with a crack in his voice. “I know it because we are going to be together forever!” The gray doors swished shut as I caught his last word. The nurse patted my arm mistaking my sigh as fear. To her shock, I smiled at the nurse. The surgery meant I just had a few hours until I saw Asher again.
***
“You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to have your parents abandon you,” Asher said. His strong clenched jaw did not match the sensitive soul inside. I could see right through his thin veil of defense. He lifted a wiry arm and ran his fingers through the thick black hair that covered his head in waves. Asher’s teenage hormones raged with anger. Normally directed at his parents, he now focused on me. The high school’s hallway cleared out. We were the last students left on campus that Friday afternoon. How ridiculous of me to believe Asher would be my date to Senior Ball. It’s not like he hadn’t been my date for every Homecoming dance during our entire high school career or anything. It was useless to disagree. Asher’s jaw flexed and moved side to side as he ground his teeth together.
“You’re not my girlfriend,” he repeated. The phrase hurt worse than it did the first time. I curled and uncurled my fist resisting the tears that burned in my eyes.
“I never said I was,” I argued. “I wouldn’t want to be anyway.”
“So you can’t get mad that I can’t call this a relationship.”
“I’m not mad, Asher. I mean,” I hesitated. “I just wanted to know what this was.” I waved my finger in the air between us, I could almost feel the tension that thickened it.
“I don’t do relationships. Besides,” he sighed. “I don’t even know if the foster home will let me go to the stupid dance.”
“‘The foster home’?” I raised an eyebrow while repeating to him. “You won’t even call them by their names now?”
“Why even learn their names if I’m only going to be there for a month?” I wanted to slap him. Then kiss him. Then slap him again. He stared out the grimy window at the flag that whipped on its pole marking the front of the school grounds.
“Oh get over yourself,” I dropped folded arms and rolled my eyes. The tears that threatened them dissipated as irritation with his immaturity took over. “Get your own ride home.” I spun around and walked toward the opposite side of campus.
As I walked the echoing halls, I called a friend. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Asher left the building then let the tears loose. I begged her to let me go to the dance with her and her boyfriend.
“What happened to Asher?” she asked. She let me cry on speakerphone for a few minutes before insisting she hook me up with her boyfriend’s brother. At least then I’d have a date for the dance tonight. I agreed but suddenly felt guilty.
Asher’s brilliant green eyes flashed in my head. We did everything together, everything. After Asher’s last surgery his parents surrendered him to the hospital. I remember mama explaining to me what that meant. I argued with her that fighting dragons only happened in movies. She told me they could no longer cope with his sickness. As I grew older I realized it was more the financial burden than emotional, that caused Asher’s parents to dump him. By then we were already hooked as best friends. It wasn’t until Asher became a teenager that hatred toward his parents grew into unrest that threatened our friendship.
That night the high school’s hallway filled again with students. I wore a red strapless dress that reached the floor. My date had curly blond hair that he pulled into a bun on the top of his head. It matched mine, which caused me to scrunch up my nose. My friend noticed and demanded I stop thinking about Asher. He was my perfect opposite. The dark hair contrasted my light locks. My heels were not tall enough to help me see over the crowd so I flexed to my tiptoes. I scanned the hallway searching for Asher’s face but saw nothing.
Inside the gym, we danced and laughed. My date talked about himself a lot, his plans to attend college on a sports scholarship. Asher always wanted to play baseball but his weak heart wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t even participate in regular physical education classes much less play a sport. When my date brushed his rough hands against my cheek my attention returned to the present. He pursed his pink lips and leaned down toward my face. I forgot to close my eyes as he pulled my chin up to meet the angle he tilted his head.
“Excuse me!” a voice shouted behind him. My date whipped his head around. Asher stood several inches shorter than him but somehow looked threatening.
“Yo bro, you’re interrupting here!”
“Can I cut in?” Asher asked with polite words but I could see his eyes narrowing. A smile twitched at my lips as I tried to keep from jumping into his arms.
“Dude, no,” my date said. He shook his head and then turned back toward me.
“That’s my girlfriend you’re dancing with,” Asher said. My date turned his head halfway and snorted a laugh.
“I don’t want to dance anymore-”
“Ignore the guy,” my date interrupted. A curl escaped his tightly wound bun. He nodded his head to roll the hair away from his eyes.
“No really, I’m done,” I said but he pushed the hand on my lower back tighter and smashed me against him.
“She said she’s done,” Asher stepped closer to us.
“Leave us alone weirdo,” my date gripped my hand with the force of a vice. Asher grabbed the guy’s bicep and ripped him from his hold on me. Caught off guard, my date took a step backward before balling a fist and swinging it at Asher’s face. I screamed. Asher ducked. He couldn’t get in a fight, not with his condition. Although I wouldn’t stop him, I hated when people told me the same. We had heart disease, we were not dead. Asher stood back up and made contact with his returned punch. His fist smashed into my date’s mouth but he responded by grabbing Asher’s other arm. Asher grunted in pain and was instantly subdued. By now others noticed. chaperones ran in and pulled the boys apart. My friend stood at my side and recognized the confusion on my face.
“Are they okay?” she squeaked.
“I don’t know,” my breath shuddered.
“Asher shouldn’t be getting into a fight. He’s gonna, like, die,” she said.
“No,” I disagreed. “Asher’s perfectly capable. I don’t know why he looked so hurt.” When the chaperones ended their lecture both boys were free to go on the promise of good behavior. My date walked over to his brother rubbing his jaw. I ran over to Asher. My heart pounded as I remembered what he called me. He clutched his hand over his forearm and winced.
“What the heck is wrong with you?” The urge to slap him and then kiss him came back again. He groaned in response. A twitch of dark eyebrows revealed the pain he tried to hide. I peeled his fingers from his arm to see blood and markings underneath. “A tattoo?” I looked back up at him. He nodded but grimaced. It was brand new, and my date had clawed at the open wound. Asher grabbed my hand and pushed through the gym doors. They swung shut behind us as we entered the cool evening. He showed me the markings on his arm, a crude drawing. He explained that his neighbor was a retired artist. The shape of a small black dragon snaked across his forearm. From its open jaws came the up-and-down zagging lines of a heartbeat. At the other end of the line was a simple heart. My eyes filled with tears as I recognized the artwork. I had drawn it after my last surgery. His green eyes met mine when I looked back up.
“You’re crazy,” I said.
“Yeah, probably,” he agreed then smiled.
“You’re supposed to say: ‘yeah, I’m crazy about you,” I said. He laughed and shrugged.
“You already know that though,” he put a hand around my waist and pulled me toward him. “Princess.” Asher cupped the side of my face with his other hand and we kissed. It wasn’t our first and wouldn’t be our last.
***
“Where are we going?” I asked. I was tempted to lift the blindfold covering my eyes and peek out the car window. It took a couple of bribes to my coworkers and a bout of begging my boss, but I managed to get the weekend off as Asher requested.
“Just be patient,” Asher said. I leaned toward the left as I felt the car take a turn. It slowed to a stop and I heard the click of the key turn the engine off. Asher shuffled and then shut his door. A few moments later mine opened and he took my hand. His fingers intertwined mine and curled with a warm, firm grasp. I climbed down from the truck with his help and he led me along. The hard ground beneath my feet indicated a cement sidewalk.
When he took the blindfold off, my heart sank. We stood at hole number nine at our local miniature golf course. Mama had hinted that Asher planned something special for tonight. I took her giggling to mean he might make an exciting declaration of love or a deeper commitment to our relationship. Instead, it seemed to be nothing more than a typical date night.
Asher walked down the green lane intended for golf balls while leading me along. In the end, we stood in front of a small gray and green building that was designed to resemble a castle. A rhythmic creaking came from the miniature doors that opened and closed waiting for someone to knock a golf ball through.
A giggle bubbled behind us. I glanced over my shoulder and gasped. Several friends and family members stood at the other end of hole number nine. Mama was right in front of everybody with both hands clasped together in front of her chest. I looked back at Asher and shrieked. He put a hand down to balance as he rested his knee against the greenery. He lifted a tiny box toward me from his kneeling position. The crude black tattoo still etched on his arm brought me back to high school. The wind blew his button-down white shirt open revealing the zipper scar that lined his chest. That brought me back to childhood. My hands clasped over my mouth when he finally spoke the expected words.
“Will you marry me?” His rosy cheeks contrasted the wavy hair that blew around on his head. I nodded. My friends squealed. Mama flashed pictures at us. After he stood up, fit the diamond ring on my finger, and kissed me, I asked about the mini golf place. He laughed and called me his princess again.
“This was the only castle I could find around here.” He pointed to the building at hole number nine. My cheeks burned, whether from excitement or embarrassment, I didn’t care. We continued kissing while friends and family congratulated us. The night turned into a party at the miniature golf course. We celebrated while catching up and taking pictures. I couldn’t stop staring at the ring on my hand, I hadn’t even noticed what was missing.
“What happened to Asher?” my aunt asked. I glanced around the group realizing his absence. Everyone joined me looking around in confusion.
“Oh, he’s over there,” I pointed. Asher walked over to a little bridge to grab a runaway ball. He reached into a bush but then yanked his hand back. He clutched his chest and leaned forward to balance on his knees.
“Asher?” the words escaped my mouth in a whisper. “Asher!” I ran toward him recognizing his fighting face. He tried to bury the pain away and shook his head but it overtook him. The group rushed over after me. Someone said to call 911. I glanced up at Mama.
“He said his heart was palpitating a lot lately. I just thought he meant he was nervous to propose,” she said. Her voice shook with her hands. I put my arms around Asher and held onto him until the sound of sirens filled the air.
***
At our wedding, Asher called me his princess. I loved the nickname. Asher fought the dragon of disease every day for his princess. He wielded his strength and fortitude with a heart full of magic. The magic, he said, came from me. I knew Asher would never give up. For me, he would keep smiling under all the bandages and wires, under all the pain.
Again, I sat on the edge of Asher’s bed. We shared one spoon between two pudding cups while waiting for news on a heart transplant. Asher hated waiting. He wanted to fight, always fight. But even under the medical armor, Asher looked weak. The dragon grew stronger than ever before.
I lay next to him on the bed. I caressed his overgrown wavy hair. He hummed the tune from a famous fantasy movie, our favorite. The low vibration buzzed in my head as I laid it against his chest. Even the steady sound faltered in weakness. I hid my face in his neck. Asher asked if I was crying. I lied. He tried to brush the tear away but his hand stopped just before my cheek as the IV line pulled short. I gathered shuddering breaths and swallowed. After two decades of fighting and Asher never gave up. I refused to believe he suffered here for me but refusing it didn’t make it untrue.
The rhythmic beep of his heart monitor caused me to drift off. When I woke I found Asher drawing sharp breaths. He winced with each one. The beating on the monitor no longer followed a steady pattern. Asher kept fighting but I couldn’t bear to watch the dragon hurt him anymore. I smoothed back the unruly wavy hair flat against his head and kissed his hairline. His eyes were closed but I knew he could hear me.
“I’ll be okay,” I whispered. “Surrendering isn’t losing because dragons aren’t real.” The doctors rushed him to surgery when his heart weakened further. I waited, as I always did, but this time Asher did not return to me. With my blessing, he put down his weapons. Finally, free from the fight, Asher would smile. For the first time, his smile would not be through a cloud of pain.
***
Through the grapevine, I heard Miss Cait planned to finally retire. She must have been ancient now. I traveled back to that old children’s hospital. I carried only a picture frame with me as I rode the elevator to the top floor. The pediatric unit smelled the same. The sterile burn of bleach wafted in as the elevator doors opened. The playroom looked updated but still had a pile of magazines next to the window seat. I swallowed a lump in my throat and walked to the nurse’s station. Miss Cait lost her plump figure. Now she shuffled even slower with a more petite, frail body. Her bright red lipstick spread across her face in a wide smile when she looked up at me. We caught one another up on the last two decades of our lives. She still snuck children extra pudding cups. I shared with her that I kept in contact with many of my fellow PICU friends. And at twenty-nine years old the same question haunted me.
“What happened to Asher?” she asked. When I told her, she apologized and grasped my hands in her knotted fingers. I shook my head refusing her sad words.
“It’s okay. Really, I’m okay,” I said. And I was. I twisted the ring around my finger. The diamond sent glinting specks of light all around the linoleum floor of the hospital hallway. Mama told me what marriage means. Asher wasn’t far away. Every day he fought for me but when he stepped down I picked up that sword. Fighting to keep his memory alive meant I was no longer his princess, I was a warrior. When two people love each other they decide to be together forever.