Made Up

Hospitals are so upsetting. The wrinkled white curtains, the chilly air, the clinical requirement to disrobe. Faith wished herself anywhere but here. She shivered and pulled her sweater over her head, trying to remember why she had agreed to surgery. This moment was so excruciating, so humbling that she almost decided to get dressed and sneak out through those curtains, let the cancer take its terrible course, not intervene at all.

Faith bit her lip and forced herself to conjure a reason to persevere. She pictured her darling lover on the other side of the fabric, breath held, poised before slipping his hand into the hemmed split to enter where she waited in naked anticipation. She said “Billy” in a whisper and his name warmed the air.

Out in the concrete garage, Billy frowned and looked down at the roses and ranunculus he held. Their bright pink, yellow and green looked like candy. He twirled them three times and made a wish as he stepped into the harsh bustle of the hospital.