“Good morning, Howard. I love you”
James whispered at seven o’ clock
Every morning
Like clockwork.
The clockwork that ran the lives of the elderly
Bridge on Thursdays
Bingo on Fridays
Prune juice in between.
They didn’t have much excitement
They didn’t have much money
But after more than half a century
They had each other.
At night, Howard would tuck him in
And sit on the edge of the bed
Rambling on about that one time something happened
Until James was asleep
Then he would lie down next to him
Give him a gentle kiss on the forehead
And doze off.
“Good morning, Howard. I love you”
His day started
Right on cue
“Back in my day,”
James began over breakfast
As if Howard hadn’t been there too
But he listened anyway
Because that’s what you do when you’re in love
You listen
Even if it’s the same story you’d heard the day before
For the nineteenth time.
Then James would forget to feed the dog
The fifty-fifty mix of wet and dry
Kind of like his cough
And he would forget to brush his teeth
“Oh, that breath!”
Howard would joke
And James would go back and brush them
Before coming back to bed so Howard could tuck him in
And sit on the edge
Rambling on about that one time something happened
Until James was asleep
But instead of going straight to bed
Howard now had to go back and do the dishes
And let the dog out
And clean the table
Everything James used to do,
Before he could lie next to him
Give him a gentle kiss on the forehead
And doze off.
“Good morning, Howard. I love you”
Five years passed
And James’ mind faded with each one
But he was there
Every morning
With a heartfelt “I love you”
And for Howard
It was the highlight of their marriage
But for James
It was their entire relationship.
By the time breakfast was made
James would forget who he was
He would freak out at the sight of Howard
And spill his coffee
And Howard, the strange man in the house,
Would have to leave
But after a painful ten minutes of watching from the window
He would walk back into the house
Clean up the coffee
And wash the dishes from breakfast.
They didn’t go to bridge anymore
They didn’t go to bingo
Sometimes they would watch TV.
James would gaze out the window towards the mountains
Empty
Emotionless
And they would stay there
Until it was time for James to brush his teeth
And get tucked into bed.
Howard didn’t dare ramble
Or linger on the edge of the bed
James would yell at him every time
He was angry and frightened at the strange man in the bedroom
“The nerve he must have!”
But Howard would tuck him in
Go back and do the dishes
And let the dog out
And clean the table
Then fill a somber glass of whiskey
As tears came to his eyes.
By the time he finished drinking his glass,
He’d have reflected
On the tragedy
Of their sixty years together
Dangling by a thread
From one lucid moment
At seven o’ clock every morning
“Don’t take that from me,” he’d beg
“Please!”
Then he would meander back to their bedroom
Lie next to James
Give him a gentle kiss on the forehead
And doze off
Before waking up the next day
“Good morning, Howard. I love you.”
Then it was a week before Howard’s eighty-fifth birthday
When he found out he had cancer
“Late stage”
“Terminal”
They gave him a month to live
And enough drugs to numb him for two.
He’d wake up at seven o’ clock sharp
Glance at the unoccupied pillow next to him
And get out of bed
He’d make himself coffee
And walk the dog
Shorter walks everyday.
Since James passed
He’d been longing for someone to make breakfast for
So the milk wouldn’t go stale
He couldn’t drink it fast enough on his own.
At Howard’s request, his daughter came
And stayed for a week
She took the dog for him
And he was alone again.
One night
He decided he was tired
Of waking up
And going to sleep
Alone
He drank a glass of whiskey
He did the dishes
He drank a second glass
He sat on the edge of his bed
With one big swallow
He gulped down the rest of his pills
He washed them down
With one last swig of whiskey
Laid down
And dozed off.
“Good morning, Howard. I love you”
Howard smiled.
“I love you too, James.”
Author’s note: This piece was co-authored with Garrett Fitzpatrick at the University of South Florida Morsani College of Medicine.
Writer-in-Training
University of South Florida Morsani College of Medicine
Hello! My name is Damien and I'm a student at the University of South Florida's College of Medicine. I was born and raised on the island of Antigua, and have been writing poetry and fiction for years. I hope you enjoy my work!