Justin entered the nursing home, footsteps echoing on the tile floor, drawing the attention of the nurses sitting behind the counter, drawing their eyes up from their magazines. They recognized him immediately and smiled, although they were partially sad smiles. He smiled back, a full smile, and picked a rose out of the bouquet in his hand for each of them, handing them over the counter.
No words were exchanged, but words weren’t necessary. They knew why he was here. They knew where he was headed. And he knew the current situation without asking. Nothing had changed. Nothing was going to change. He sighed as he turned the corner, making his way slowly down the long hallway before stopping in front of one of the many rooms. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The room was dark, the curtains pulled tightly against the harsh sun outside. As his eyes adjusted, he saw the still figure laying on the bed, chest rising and falling in a peaceful motion and he smiled before moving over to the bed. His eyes lingered for a moment, skimming across the lined face, the graying hair, the peaceful smile. Then, finally, he set the bouquet on the nightstand and pulled a chair across the small expanse of the room to rest next to the bed. He wasn’t sure how long he’d have to wait, but he’d wait as long as it took for the sleeping figure to awaken.
Sitting, he rested his head against the back of the chair and let his eyes drift shut. He wasn’t going to sleep. He was simply going to sit there, let his eyes rest, let the memories wash over him, and wait.
He was wrapped up in his memories, a smile playing across his face, the words and actions and pictures running through his head, playing through his soul, and soaring through his heart, when he sensed movement from the bed. Opening his eyes, he glanced at the person laying there, eyes trained on Justin, a questioning look in the deep blue orbs. He smiled reassuringly and sat up straighter, leaning closer to the bed.
“Who are you?” He smiled again, sadly, slowly bringing a hand up to touch the questioning face, letting fingertips trail over thick, gray hair, down a soft, wrinkled forehead. There was no fight, no defense. Simply acceptance. Simply compliancy.
“I’m going to tell you a story,” Justin said, completely ignoring the question posed to him. “It’s a story of love. Of the most wonderful love. It’s a story of two people finding each other, of holding on to each other against all odds.” A nod was the only answer he got, blue eyes still holding questions. He smiled again and sat back, eyes still trained on the blue searching his own face. “There was once a young man....”