we all are born to the wandering eye, right? it only matters in the action not the thought, right?
i am watching the clock in the doctors office as they proceed through their tests. i am watching the seconds above my wife's head tick away as she sits like a child still smooth skin and knobby knee peeking out from under the hem of hospital gown. the doctor is instructing but we are both lost somewhere else in the timelines of our memory.
i would never cheat. i should say i have not cheated until this point. i have not committed the simplest form of adultery, have kept the marriage vows as well as one can. though the heat of the young hearted man has turned to the yearn of the older man. i want someone to talk to. when disease appears, when it is fatal, when you understand that death has joined the family and begun to unpack you begin to withdraw. debra is still my wife, still my love but now there is the need for space, the instinct to get away from sick things.
while the doctor mutters. as she stares away, still hauntingly beautiful i want for someone to talk to. there are support groups for the family members of those that suffer, but i am not ready. i am not ready to stand up and accept the end. i am not ready to begin to say goodbye to my wife. so i wander the halls, so i wander the streets, so i wander the bar rooms and book stores tracing the shape of woman with my eyes. i trace, study and hunger for someone to talk to.
we leave with script for prescriptions. neither one can remember much of what was said, though she has an excuse, so when hannah calls i am lectured on the art of paying attention. while she talks i hold debra's hand and yet and still my eye wander. i see a beautiful black woman of maybe twenty five chatting outside a coffee shop, i make a mental note to visit later. there is a thin latino in a smart pants suit outside the bank shaking somebody's hand i make a mental note to see about their interest rate.
the conversation ends as we move through the drive through at the local pharmacy. i see the bright eye of the auburn haired beauty dim. she has thin elegant fingers that tender the paper in her hand, her green eyes are pained when they unblinkingly look into mine, 'okay we will see you about an hour.' i make a mental note to come in, to come alone to say hello in about an hour.
'is there anywhere you want to go?' i ask and hope for no. hope she would want to go home and take a nap so that i can come back. so i will not be hurried or ashamed when i breath deep her perfume and hold/shake her hand as i get the prescription and hope for conversation.
'i was thinking of lunch earlier but i'm sorry i'm so tired. would you hate just going home?'she asks.
'no, no, not at all.'
there is a beat as she leans her head against my shoulder.
'i don't know how you do it. i would be crazy by now, dealing with this and me...'
'don't say that. we're a team. in for a penny in for a pound.'
there is a beat as she raises my hand to kiss it.
'if you want to talk, if you need to let it out you can i am here i will listen,' she says and moves so there her eyes are looking into mine.
'no, no i know. it's okay, alright, if i need to i will. you too. how are, is what are you feeling?'
'just tired mostly,' she says.
we make the slow turn down towards or home.
'i love you, you know that?' i say.
'i know, thank you, i love you too.'
'you are my best friend, thank you for this life,' i say.
there is just the sound of her breath and soft tears as we pull into the garage. we lean forward, we deep kiss and i wonder how i will break the ice. i wonder about interest rates or how coffee at that place tastes and watch another minute slip away on the dash boards digital clock. only 48 minutes to go, but really 30 if you count driving.
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