You were a plump little girl when we first met. In fact, I can still see you seated on that chipped, wooden swing at Perkins Elementary School. The rope on one side snapped under your weight mid-air, and you tumbled backwards in a fit of tears. Of course, that was one of the days when you wore that pink-and-white polka-dot sundress. It billowed back over your face, and a stampede of boys raced to see you flail. With my imaginary friends, I came to the rescue. You called me a loser, and flung me off as a person swats a fly. For some senseless reason, I took your response as a disguised request for help. Using all of the strength in my twiggy arms, I hauled you upward and kissed you, my princess, on the lips. I thought I was a hero. You said I needed to be a frog before I could become your prince. Until then, I would be your playmate.

***


In high school, I discovered that you were a nerd. Books littered your locker, and makeup filled mine. I dated one, two, maybe even three guys at a time. The writers of the novels you read were married to your mind. We were friends with entirely different lives. However, I secretly found you endearing, with your cute elephant ears. I danced through the halls like a ballerina, but your nose only pressed deeper into your books. I thought you inhaled the words. One day, I asked why you loved to read. You said that in books the imagination is endless. I figured that deep down you must be a hopeless romantic. Perhaps I was one too.

***


You wanted to attend a college close to our hometown, but I dreamed about a university in a different state. You said you wanted to be a nurse to help sick children. I thought you were inspiring, and I considered professing my love for you by quoting, “This bud of love by summer’s ripening breath,/May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.” I didn’t. Instead, I told you of my intention to study the art of writing two states over. In that moment, your face appeared so small and fragile, framed by the thick tresses of your hair. I longed to kiss you goodbye. You hugged me like I was a teddy bear that you couldn’t let go and, in that moment, I realized that if you never fell in love with me, we would still be all right. I only wanted you to be happy.

***


I was miserable, even after I became a nurse. Busy as a beaver, you were still at university. You gnawed at books as though they were wood. I cared for children while secretly wishing they were my own. I couldn’t keep waiting when I didn’t know how you felt about me. So, I gave you hints and clues as a dog tracks mud through a house. One day, I watched a child’s life slip through my fingers like time. I couldn’t help save the child, but I could choose to find you before you too were lost.

***


You stood outside my apartment in the pouring rain, your hair hanging in spindly ribbons. I found your hand and pulled you inside without a sound. Though I had planned to wait until I received my degree, I knew then that I couldn’t risk the chance of losing you. I fell to one knee and told you, the North Star to my drifting boat, that I loved you then and always. We set a date and were married the following year. You wanted to live in our hometown. I wanted to travel the world and live out of a suitcase. In the end, we chose a charming house in the country. You wanted five children and I wanted three. We had four.


***

I lost my job when the hospital closed down, and the well of your imagination began to run dry. The children plead for money in order to attend school, and you articulated quite rudely that they would have to find their own way. I argued with you about what constituted our responsibilities as parents. You said the economy was to blame, and I reasoned you’d given up on faith and family. Like a grizzly bear, you hibernated in your study. I hastened to reassure our sons and daughter. Luckily, you turned the world right-side up and penned My Life with You, the best-selling memoir. We sent the children off to school and vacationed in Maui.

***


Our only daughter and youngest child went into labour. The next day, you ran onto the front porch, our cherry-red phone clutched in your hands, to tell me they named him William. I chortled as I leaned back in my rocking chair. I couldn’t help but ask if he’d be the next Shakespeare. You eyed me sternly in your long blue housecoat and rollers, and then broke into a fit of laughter. I inquired about when our daughter and son-in-law would be coming home with our first grandchild. You reminded me that they would have to save some money. Still, the news called for a celebration, so I dredged a bottle of wine from the cellar. You hugged me suddenly, and my lips curved into a grin. I popped the cork, and urged you to come with me to the bay window in our library. We pressed our backs against the wall as we sat outstretched across from one another, our legs tangled. I slipped A Walk to Remember by Nicholas Sparks into your hands. You didn’t need to ask. I knew what you loved.

***


I was too tired to keep up with my volunteer work at the hospital. You retired from writing, but you still told stories aloud. We were free as birds to do as we pleased. Therefore, I made you drive us to see the grandchildren as much as possible. You complained like an angry gopher, and said the children would sue if we kept taking their kids. I shot retorts right back at you. We were each other’s dart boards for a while. As the years passed, I grew wearier, argued less, and, one day, took a trip down the stairs, which resulted in a fractured hip. Our children helped us get settled into a retirement home.

***

The hollows of your eyes became blooming purple bruises and your hair thin as straw. I cursed the nurses and doctors for allowing you to fade into a wilting rose. You coughed and wheezed against me. I could feel the daggers of your ribs when I held you against my chest. Still, you urged me not to worry as you trailed your bony fingers along my wet cheeks. I was without words. You slept more and more throughout the days, your breath rattling in my ear. My heart became pinched with sorrow. Our love was more infinite than any vision conjured within a bound book. I suddenly knew I’d never want to read a romance novel again.

***


I knew I was dying. You didn’t deny the truth, though pain clouded your eyes. I whispered for you to stay close and see me through. You didn’t utter a word, but I knew you would stay. Wherever I was going, I would wait for you, no matter what. You nodded and slipped your fingers through mine to fill the spaces. I felt the bed sink under your weight as you nuzzled me and sobbed.