Everytime after that first time, they would sleep in the same bed.
And they wouldn't discuss it or stress over it; no matter who they were with at the time, the warmth of each other's bodies was deeply reassuring.
All except that last time. There wasn't room in the hospital bed in the dining room.
Even when she was dating and then engaged to Prince Charming, there was something familiar existing between the two of them.
She looked at the stash of his pills on the tray next to him. So easy to end his suffering, just dissolve in water & stir. A kind and gentle overdose. Take him out of his suffering. For all she knew, he had been planning something similar already. She didn't want it to turn into a comedic case of double overdose. And wanted to give him the room to make his own choices, no matter what they were.
She had been with him, already and easily betraying Prince Charming, as if that other life was all imaginary and This Life on the Road was the reality. She got a call that he was having an episode. He was visiting family, and surely he would be safe. She got the call, she got the call, she got the call. Each was worse and worse and worse.
She should have expected it. Found hanging, throat & wrists and pills and a gun. Prince Charming had been armed to slay the dragon. And it was himself.
There was gentleness that night. The idea of loving someone who destroys themselves is a blow, the carpet pulled out from under.
Funny how that memory came to both of them, that final afternoon in his house. They both knew he couldn't live in that hospital bed, and wouldn't allow her to take care of him. Even though she was prepared to give up her outside life and summon up every joke she had ever heard for his final weeks. Or months. Or....
By John Hiatt
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