by Barbara Lee Norris

Created on: December 04, 2008   Last Updated: May 25, 2010

Ralph entered Barnes and Noble coffee shop at exactly 9 o'clock on a Saturday morning. He wore jeans with crisp creases down each leg, a plaid button-down shirt, equally well-pressed, white socks, and white Reebok tennis shoes. His thinning-grey hair was combed to one side. As he approached the cafe counter, a clerk turned her attention to him. She quickly noticed his long-bony fingers and sad, brown eyes.

"Hi," she said. "Would you like the usual?"

"A tall coffee and a blueberry muffin," he said. That was his usual. His wife, Nina, had always ordered a cup of tea, with lemon, and a strawberry scone.

Ralph leaned against the counter while the girl poured the coffee and plated the muffin. "That'll be $3.25," she said.

Ralph took his wallet from his back pocket, pulled out $4.00 and handed it to her. "Keep the change," he said. He took the tray and sat at a table for 2 in the middle of the room. It was the same table he'd chosen on other Saturdays with Nina.

He sipped his coffee, nibbled at the muffin, and gazed at the empty chair in front of him. I miss you, baby, he thought. Saturdays are the hardest. He rested his forehead in his hands. The house is too big, and too quiet. I can't take it. Everything reminds me of you. He raised his head and looked toward the shelved books. He remembered happier Saturdays, when he'd watched Nina browse the bookshelves. He loved to watch her from a distance, as if seeing his beautiful woman for the 1st time.

Nina died on a Friday evening just 6-weeks earlier. Ralph spent the entire day with her and had just arrived home to eat and get some rest. The phone rang, while frozen meat loaf cooked in the microwave. Robin, a hospice nurse, told Ralph that Nina had taken a turn for the worst. Ralph yanked open the door to the microwave, grabbed his keys, and rushed to the car. While driving back to hospice, he wondered how he could possibly live without her.

Ralph parked the car near a side door of the hospice. As soon as the he entered the building, he could see Nina's room at the far end of the hall. Her double doors stayed open; she lay in a hospital bed and was alone in the room.

Robin approached Ralph. "I'm so glad you're back," she said while patting his arm. "She's refusing water. Her breathing's erratic. She'll be relieved to know you're here."

"I haven't called our daughter," Ralph whispered. He dropped his keys.

"It's OK," Ralph. "I have her number. I'll call her now."

Ralph picked up the keys and walked to Nina's room. He heard her labored breathing and saw her chest heaving up and down under a faded-gray hospital gown. A couple of gray hairs had grown from her chin. An oxygen mask covered her nose and mouth. Her thin arms, covered in purple and blue bruises, lay still against the white sheets. Her eyes remained closed. Her skin had turned pasty yellow.

Ralph took her cold hand into his and kissed it. He leaned over and pressed his cheek against hers. "I love you, Nina," he whispered. Her eyes opened briefly; they made eye contact. "You are the joy of my life," he said.

He stroked her silky hair and hummed their favorite song until Nina slipped away. Ralph then moved the oxygen mask away  from her face. He leaned over and kissed  his wife one last time.

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