Til Death Do Us Part

Vernon sat quietly reading the newspaper by Velma's bedside.  Usually, they'd be on their way to church by now, but she'd had a rough night with a lot of pain, so he didn't want to wake her.  He adored the way she looked when she was sleeping.  Her long eyelashes lay lightly feathered across the tops of her cheeks and her lips displayed an almost Mona Lisa smile.  He would never tire of looking at her if it meant he could see her daily without any outward signs of pain or discomfort.  

"Stop looking at me like that.  I ain't dead yet."  She tried shifting her body to sit up a little more, but she was too weak.  Vernon jumped to assist until she swatted him away.  "I hate it when you look at me like I've got one foot in the grave and one foot out the door."  She sighed heavily and looked intently into Vernon's face as she stilled his hand on her blanket.  "Sweetheart...I'm going to beat this.  God didn't bring me this far to leave me."

Vernon raised a bushy eyebrow.  "Now you listen here, woman.  I ain't looking at you no such a way.  It's been my job for years to take care of you whether in sickness or in health and that's just what I'm doing.  I'm just trying to make sure you're not in any pain, so if that makes me look like I'm wishing you into your grave before your time, then oh well."  He shrugged.  "Now, hush up."

"Okay, you old bat."  She looked at him with the sweetness of honey.  "I love you.  Really, I do."

"I know you do.   You'd better.  Now, how are you feeling this morning?"  He sat on the edge of the bed and tucked the yellow flowered sheet around her waist.  Pushing his coke-bottle glasses further up his nose, Vernon eyed her warily.  He noticed how sunken her eyes looked and how sallow her skin appeared in the morning sunlight.  

"I'm feeling a bit tired, but nothing a hot cup of coffee couldn't undo."  Vernon knew this would give her a few minutes to spruce herself up but only for his benefit.  She had told him more than once that she didn't want to look sick even if she was sick.  "Okay.  I'll be back in a jiffy.  Want the TV on?"  As he started to step away, Velma exclaims,  "Yes. You know I need to stay up-to-date on what's goin' on in the world."   Vernon passes her the skinny black remote while also noticing how she can barely grip it.  "And don't forget the PET milk and just one teaspoon of sugar this time."

Vernon made slow steps into the kitchen.  While opening the cabinet door to pull down her favorite coffee mug, he almost lost it.  His sweetheart was suffering and he couldn't do one darn thing about it.  The diagnosis of breast cancer six months ago was more than overwhelming.  The odds of her not surviving was high, but most in part due to her other illnesses ravaging her body at the same time. 

 "Vernon!  I want my coffee hot!  The machine has been beeping for a minute.  Are you okay in there?"  He was stunned out of his reverie, but managed to give a weak, but witty reply.  "Woman, don't rush me or I'll put a little something in your coffee to really make you hot!"   Placing her mug on the grey tray, he slowly makes his way back to the bedroom.  

Suddenly, the phone rings.  He knew who it was and the answering machine was just going to have to take a message.  It wasn't anyone but Darnell and he would just have to wait.  This was the only time Velma would let him dote on her and he was going to make it last as long as he could.  

Walking back into the bedroom, Vernon grumpily announces his arrival.  "Alright old woman, I've got your coff--"  The tray crashes to the ground as he realizes that Velma is slumped over the side table with her eyes closed...not moving.  He rushes to her side.  Trying to feel for a pulse, Vernon only feels a faint beat.  He knows time is of the essence when he reaches for the cordless phone and dials 9-1-1.