I open a drawer and find the flowers I'd once given her long ago, old and faded andtied together with ribbon. They, like me, are dry and brittle and difficult to handlewithout breaking. But she saved them. "I don't understand what you want withthem,"
! would say, but she would just ignore me. And sometimes in the evenings I would seeher holding them, almost reverently, as if they offered the secret of life itself.
Women.
Since this seems to be a night of memories, I look for and find my wedding ring. It isin the top drawer, wrapped in tissue. I cannot wear it anymore because my knucklesare swollen and my fingers lack for blood. I unwrap the tissue and find it unchanged.
It is powerful, a symbol, a circle, and I know, I know, there could never have beenanother. I knew it then, and I know it now. And in that moment I whisper aloud, "Iam still yours, Allie, my queen, my timeless beauty. You are, and always have been,the best thing in my life."
I wonder if she hears me when I say this, and I wait for a sign. But there isnothing. It is eleven‐thirty and I look for the letter she wrote me, the one I readwhen the mood strikes me. I find it where I last left it. I turn it over a couple oftimes before I open it, and when I do my hands begin to tremble. Finally I read:Dear Noah,
I write this letter by candlelight as you lie sleeping in the bedroom we have sharedsince the day we were married. And though I can't hear the soft sounds of your
slumber, I know you are there, and soon I will be lying next to you again as I alwayshave.
And I will feel your warmth and your comfort, and your breaths will slowly guide meto the place where I dream of you and the wonderful man you are.
I see the flame beside me and it reminds me of another fire from decades ago, withme in your soft clothes and you in your jeans. ! knew then we would always betogether, even though I wavered the following day.
My heart had been captured, roped by a southern poet, and I knew inside that ithad always been yours. Who was I to question a love that rode on shooting starsand roared like crashing waves? For that is what it was between us then and thatis what it is today.
! remember coming back to you the next day, the day my mother visited. ! was soscared, more scared than I had ever been because I was sure you would never forgiveme for leaving you.
! was shaking as ! got out of the car, but you took it all away with your smile and theway you held your hand out to me. "How 'bout some coffee," was all you said. Andyou never brought it up again. In all our years together. Nor did you question mewhen I would leave and walk alone the next few days. And when I came in with tearsin my eyes, you always knew whether ! needed you to hold me or to just let me be. Idon't know how you knew, but you did, and you made it easier for me. Later whenwe went to the small chapel and traded our rings and made our vows, I looked in youreyes and knew I had made the right decision. But more than that, I knew I was foolishfor ever considering someone else. I have never wavered since.
We had a wonderful life together, and I think about it a lot now. I close my eyessometimes and see you with speckles of gray in your hair, sitting on the porch andplaying your guitar while little ones play and clap to the music you create. Yourclothes are stained from hours of work and you are tired, and though I offer youtime to relax, you smile and say, "That what I am doing now." I find your love forour children very sensual and exciting. "You're a better father than you know," Itell you later, after the children are sleeping. Soon after, we peel off our clothesand kiss each other and almost lose ourselves before we are able to slip betweenthe flannel sheets.
I love you for many things, especially your passions, for they have always been thosethings which are most beautiful in life. Love and poetry and fatherhood andfriendship and beauty and nature. And ! am glad you have taught the children these
things, for I know their lives are better for it. They tell me how special you are tothem, and every time they do, it makes me feel like the luckiest woman alive. Youhave taught me as well, and inspired me, and supported me in my painting, andyou will never know how much it has meant to me. My works hang in museums andprivate collections now, and though there have been times when I was frazzled anddistracted because of shows and critics, you were always there with kind words,encouraging me. You understood my need for my own studio, my own space, andsaw beyond the paint on my clothes and in my hair and sometimes on the furniture.
! know it was not easy.
It takes a man to do that, Noah, to live with something like that. And you have. Forforty‐five years now. Wonderful years.
You are my best friend as well as my lover, and I do not know which side of you I enjoythe most. ! treasure each side, just as I have treasured our life together.
You have something inside you, Noah, something beautiful and strong. Kindness,that's what I see when I look at you now, that's what everyone sees. Kindness. Youare the most forgiving and peaceful man I know. God is with you, He must be, for youare the closest thing to an angel that I’ve ever met.
I know you thought me crazy for making us write our story before we finally leaveour home, but I have my reasons and I thank you for your patience. And though youasked, I never told you why, but now I think it is time you knew.
We have lived a lifetime most couples never know, and yet, when I look at you, I amfrightened by the knowledge that all this will be ending soon. For we both knowmy prognosis and what it will mean to us. I see your tears and I worry more aboutyou than I do about me, because I fear the pain I know you will go through. Thereare no words to express my sorrow for this, and I am at a loss for words. So I loveyou so deeply, so incredibly much, that I will find a way to come back to you despitemy disease, I promise you that. And this is where the story comes in. When I amlost and lonely, read this story‐‐just as you told it to the children‐‐and know that insome way, I will realize it about us. And perhaps, just perhaps, we will find a way tobe together again.
Please don't be angry with me on days I do not remember you, and we both knowthey will come. Know that I love you, that I always will, and that no matter whathappens, know I have led the greatest life possible. My life with you.
And if you save this letter to read again, then believe what I am writing for you now.
Noah, wherever you are and whenever this is, I love you. I love you now as I write this,and I love you now as you read this. And I am so sorry if I am not able To tell you. Ilove you deeply, my husband. You are, and always have been, my dream.
Allie
When I am finished with the letter, I put it aside. I rise from my desk and find myslippers. They are near my bed, and I must sit to put them on. Then, standing, I crossthe room and open my door. I peek down the hall and see Janice seated at the maindesk. At least I think it is Janice. I must pass this desk to get to Allie's room, but atthis hour I am not supposed to leave my room, and Janice has never been one to bendthe rules. Her husband is a lawyer.
I wait to see if she will leave, but she does not seem to be moving, and I growimpatient.
I finally exit my room anyway, slow‐shuffle, slide‐the‐right, slow‐shuffle. It takesaeons to close the distance, but for some reason she does not see me approaching.
I am a silent panther creeping through the jungle, I am as invisible as baby pigeons.
In the end I am discovered, but I am not surprised. I stand before her.
"Noah," she says, "what are you doing?" "I'm taking a walk," I say. "I can't sleep."
"You know you're not supposed to do this." "I know."
I don't move, though. I am determined.
"You're not really going for a walk, are you? You're going to see Allie." "Yes,"
I answer.
"Noah, you know what happened the last
time you saw her at night."
"I remember."
"Then you know you shouldn't be doing this."
