It's Never Too Late to Love

Marcus

Marcus trudged home from work slowly that day, taking in all the scenery on his last time walking that same route. He had finally done it, seventy years old and he had finally left the lab.

A certain emptiness resided in him at the thought of not going there five days a week at 8 am. There was also relief though. The lab reminded him of Kate ever since she had fallen ill, a little over ten years previously. She had passed a month after contracting the illness. Influenza or the flu, and more specifically, the swine flu. Kate had had Asthma all her life, and she was just bordering on old at age 60, so when she came down with a severe case of the drug-resistant H1N1 swine flu, doctors were scared, and Marcus was petrified. But Kate had told him not to worry, that she knew everything would turn out alright. She was a very smart woman.

Turning the corner onto 4th Street, Marcus walked up the cracked sidewalk and into his apartment building, choosing to take the stairs to the fourth floor instead of waiting tediously for the elevator. His joints aching as he climbed the last flight and swung open the heavy door, Marcus exited into the whitewash hallway, pulling his keys out as he did so.

Unlocking the plain black door that had marked his home for the past 25 years, he entered the small one bedroom apartment and let the door swing shut behind him. Placing his keys on the counter with a sigh, he sat down on a swivel bar stool.

"What now?" He whispered to himself. Marcus was not akin to speaking to himself, but it just felt good to say it out loud, like maybe there might be an answer.

When no response came, Marcus buried his face in his hands and sighed.

"Why did you leave, Kate?" He choked out into the air, his voice cracking. No longer could he hold it in and the tears broke free like the opening of the gates at Hoover Dam, sobs escaping his throat.

"Why couldn't I save you?" He cried out as he stared down the counter, as if wanting it to answer.

Marcus had cried at least once a week ever since Kate's death ten years ago. It usually happened at night, when he would forget she wasn't there. He would reach out to clasp her hand, only to find nothing but cold, empty sheets. Then it would hit all over again, Kate was dead. Dead because he couldn't save her.

"I know you said everything would be okay," he wept, "But I'm not okay, Kate. I need you." Marcus wept silently to himself for his failure, he had helped save thousands with the vaccine, but it didn't work for Kate. Some part Marcus knew it wasn't his fault, but the rest of him was convinced that he could have done something, anything, to help her.

After a few minutes, Marcus was cried out and he simply slipped off his shoes and walked into the bedroom, skipping dinner as he so often did. Sitting on the bed, Marcus looked down at his hand, his eyes catching the light that reflected off the gold band encircling his finger.

With a little push, he slid the ring off his finger and stared at it. Holding it between his two fingers, he kissed it softly and then, leaning over in the bed, placed the golden symbol of faith on the pillow next to him.

"I'll always love you, Kate."