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Our Father. Time to hold hands. She smiled at the older man who was offering her his hand even as the rest of the congregation had gone on with the prayer. Quickly she obliged and jumped into the prayer mid-stream. When she returned her gaze to the front, she let the words continue without even hearing them. He was tall. She wondered how tall he was up close because the floor of the church was sloped so that she couldn’t really tell. Maybe six foot, maybe even a little taller.
    Yes, that would be perfect next to her. The prayer ended and the rest of everything drifted by her in a haze of what ifs and maybes. By the end, she was certain that they were destined to be together forever. Now to get his attention. The final hymn ended, and it was then that she realized he was on the outside of the bench, but she was in the middle so that he turned and headed for the doors with no way for her to get to him through the crush of the others. Man, she was bad at this.
    She smiled in his direction, hoping he would look at her. Instead, he shook someone’s hand on the other side and strode right on by her pew. This was not how the story was supposed to end. Hello! she wanted to yell. Soulmate over here!
    But he just kept walking. Even when she was out of the bench, the crowd pouring out with her impeded her progress. She caught a single, solitary glimpse of him as he exited the doors. “Oh, excuse me,” she said to the little old lady she almost tripped over. Her hands shot out to steady the woman, but her gaze was already at those back doors.
    He was gone. He couldn’t be gone. That wasn’t fair. Ugh. Ten more steps through the molasses of people, and she knew he was gone for good, in the parking lot, in his nice car, with his sunglasses on... At first she was upset by that, but then she rationalized that at least she knew he did come to church on a semi-regular basis and he always sat in the same pew. Alone. All she had to do was change where she sat, and they were as good as a couple.
     
     
    “ Ben,” Dr. Vitter said, shaking his hand.
    “ Dr. Vitter.” There wasn’t a thing Ben liked about this. Dr. Vitter looked far too concerned, far too serious.
    They sat simultaneously, and Ben fought not to squirm right out of his chair.
    “ We got the MRI’s back this morning, and unfortunately, there has been more bleeding overnight.”
    “ Um-hm.” More bleeding. That did not sound good. “But you can fix that, right? I mean, you can… with the surgery.”
    Dr. Vitter’s gaze slipped to the desk. “Even with surgery, your father’s chances of ever coming out of this are very, very slim.”
    “ But…” Air, words, hope—they all escaped. “But there is… I mean, there is still a chance. Something. Some drug or something.”
    Although he never actually shook his head, Dr. Vitter’s whole demeanor said, No, there isn’t . “I’m sorry, Ben. Really, I am. If there was any way I thought we’d have a chance, I would give it to you. But he’s too far gone. There’s too much damage, and to keep him ‘alive’ like this…” He put quotes around that word, raking right over Ben’s heart with the gesture. “Your father wouldn’t want this.”
    “ I…” He cleared his throat because suddenly he wanted to cry more than he ever had. He blinked the tears back. “Okay.” Reaching up, he scratched at his shoulder which suddenly felt like it was crawling with something. “Um. Then what…” The lump grew in his throat so that he had to clear it again. “What do we do now?”
    We . Such a strange word. There was no we. Only I and me. He’d loved those words for so long. Suddenly they felt very, very lonely.
    “ Well, I think it’s time to consider the possibility of hospice.”
    “ Hospice. Hm.” Why could he not get more than a word out without choking up? “What’s that?”
    “ Hospice,” Dr. Vitter explained as the world did that tilt away from Ben thing again. Why could he not concentrate when the