“Bad news?”
“I worked weekends through medical school. Still paying for it.”
She grimaced.
“They should give you a refund for that handwriting.”
***
Then her medication stopped working.
On Tuesday, the attending physician told her family she probably had three days left. I hesitated outside her room afterward, afraid she’d expect another treatment I couldn’t provide.
Instead, she asked me to sit.
“I have one last wish.”
“What is it?”
“I want to marry you.”
I assumed she was joking, but her faint smile remained serious.
“Come on. I don’t want to show up in heaven as an unmarried woman.”
“Alicia, I’m your doctor.”
“You’re not who I’d choose if I were marrying for love, doc.”
She glanced at a passing nurse, blushed, then faced me again.
“But I have my reasons.”
“Then why me?”
“Because you listen. Even when what I want sounds silly. I want one big thing I get to choose.”
