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terrible loneliness I’ve become so familiar with over the centuries in my solitude? Or, is it more the inevitable goodbyes when those I cherish finally succumb to old age and death?
    Beatrice would be leaving soon. All the more reason to spend as much time as possible by her side.
    ***
     
    “She’s sleeping, William. Maybe you should come back tomorrow in the daytime.”
    Thursday evening after work, and a woman I greatly admire was trying to shoo me away from my wife’s room. Of course, this lady, Nurse Larisa Jones, has no idea to this day that the young man standing before her is not actually Beatrice Barrow’s grandson. I can only imagine the shock this portly middle-aged caregiver would experience if she were to learn I was her favorite patient’s husband instead.
    I had no intentions of ever telling her.
    “I promise to be quiet,” I said softly, and for good measure flashed the devilish smile I’m known for. “I’ll only be here for a little while. Dad and I are headed overseas early tomorrow morning.”
    “Oh? Where would you two be off to now?”
    My charm was working. Larisa’s golden brown eyes seemed to glow within her youthful ebony complexion as she chuckled and shook her head.
    “You ain’t going to China or Japan this time, are you?”
    “No, not this time.” I no longer worried that my wife’s nurse would stop me from entering her private room in the Good Shepherd nursing home. I pushed gently on the door’s latch and quietly opened the door. “We’re heading to Europe.”
    A little white lie, though technically we would be stopping over in Frankfurt before continuing to Tehran. But, the sooner I could weasel myself into a chair next to my wife’s bed, the better my chances of getting to stay for an hour or so.
    “You two go out that way a lot, don’t you? Can I come along the next time you jet-set to the French Riviera??”
    These seemed more like polite questions. I already had one foot through the door, and she had turned to continue her rounds through the building’s second floor.
    “Sure, if you can squeeze it into your schedule.” I kept my voice low, to not disturb my wife. Still, I managed a seductive wink—all in good fun, of course.
    “Um-umm, well we’ll see about that!” I heard her laugh to herself as she moved down the hallway, along with an echoed ‘I’m gonna hold you to it!’.
    My playful distraction successful, I felt confident I would have at least an uninterrupted hour with Beatrice. I moved over to the right side of my wife’s bed and gently scooted my chair to where I sat less than a few feet from where she lay. At the moment, she slept soundly. Part of me was saddened that our visit would likely go unnoticed by her. But the smoothness in her breathing gave me hope that her rest would be a healing period for her tired body and would prolong her time on earth. I wanted to be there when she passed, and prayed silently that it wouldn’t happen while Alistair and I were out of the country.
    And why would I care so much when I had exited her life once before? Good question. Really it is.
    I left her after nearly ten years of marriage. Those ten years were the best years of my entire existence. We were in love...and a love deeper than any I have known before or since. Our love transcended anything I ever had experienced—something beyond sex and longing. A level of knowing and understanding that I’ve often wondered if it is the thing so loosely thrown around these days: Soul mates.
    But if soul mates, then what in the hell was I thinking when I left? After all, even today I love her just as much as I ever have.
    I turned chicken shit. But chicken shit with a compelling reason. As much as I loved her—and knew I would always love her—I also realized I’d be in a world of terrible despair for eventually having to leave Beatrice, when she aged and I did not. Things have ended badly every time I’ve hung on too long, and it’s not usually me who has