Arthur Williams walked with a limp. It was one filled with pain and the weight of war. Yet, for all of the sorrow in his life, he was not sad. His cane hit the hospital floor and he smiled as he passed the visitor’s desk. One of the secretaries smiled back.
“Did you see that?” She asked the nurse who was filing something. Arthur Williams had been a regular visitor of the hospital ever since his wife had been admitted with Alzheimer’s a year ago. The staff couldn’t believe his unwavering loyalty, his undying persistence; his powerful love. He visited every day. They’d been married over forty years, he would tell them; it’s not the end. They would smile, but deep down they knew, the end was coming.
The nurse nodded sadly and they both watched as Arthur Williams knocked on door 213.
Inside, he walked over to the white bed with a large smile on his face. It faded gradually when he noticed the monitors beside her. He hated seeing them. They always meant that his wife wasn’t happy. Looking down at the cloth draped across her forehead, he saw the beads of sweat rolling down her face. A fever.
“Is that what I think it is?” He asked sadly. A fever was a sign. There’d be more hallucinations today. More fear. She wouldn’t remember. Slowly, he reached for the cloth.
“Don’t touch it!” She cried shakily, lifting her hand to stop his. He moved his hand and rested it on her cheek, stroking it softly. She was burning. He shut his eyes sadly, trying to reel back his tears. The hallucinations were getting closer together. Soon, she wouldn’t remember at all.
“So warm,” he muttered. Any second now, she wouldn’t remember him. She’d look at him with those beautiful, blue eyes and they’d be empty. He prayed that it wouldn’t be today. He prayed that he’d have just one day with her. Holding her close, he prayed with all his might.
For about five minutes, they sat embraced on her bed. It seemed like everything would be all right. Then she started to shudder. He pulled away and she looked at him with wide eyes. Empty eyes. Shoving him away, she began to sob. Then scream. The nurses came rushing in.
“I don’t know where I am,” she cried. The nurses tried to reassure her. She was in the hospital; she was safe. Their cries fell on deaf ears. Only Arthur’s voice made it’s way through the chorus. It told her she would be all right, she would make it through; she was loved.
An hour later and he was sitting on her bed again. She had calmed down. She was all right. And most importantly, she remembered.
“You never believe me,” Arthur Williams said with a smile as he embraced his wife.
She looked up at him, her eyes filled with happiness. That was her husband. Love. She was okay. Peace.
(A/N: This was a school assignment that I did this past semester. The assignment was to create a story and the only lines of dialogue we could use were the ones in my story and they had to be in that order. My Grandfather died of Alzheimer's, so this is kind of a hard story for me, but I did want to post it.)