Then, a few weeks later, during a routine check, I noticed Gloria's hands were trembling more than usual. Her color wasn't right, and her breathing had a rattle to it that I recognized.
She caught me watching her, and instead of looking away, she pulled the old bag closer to her chest.
***
Three weeks after that morning, the ambulance came for Gloria. I rode with her, her bag next to me, because there was no one else to call.
Her color wasn't right.
***
One afternoon during her hospital stay, she patted the mattress beside her. She looked smaller under the thin blanket, but her eyes were as sharp as ever.
"Sit, Daniel. I have something to ask you."
I sat. Her hand found mine, warm and steady despite everything.
"I have one final wish," she said quietly, looking me in the eye. "I know this sounds strange, but I don't have much time left. I've spent so many years alone, and I don't want to leave this world knowing I never had someone to call my husband. Will you marry me?"
"I have something to ask you."
I stared at her, and she smiled sadly.
The heart monitor kept beeping. It was the only sound between us for what felt like a full minute.
"Gloria..."
"Don't answer now," the elderly woman said. "Go home. Sleep on it. But please, don't say no because you're worried about what people will think."
That was the problem. Of course, that's exactly what I was worried about.
"Don't answer now."
***
I didn't sleep that night. I tossed and turned in bed until sunrise, then drove straight to the nursing home and pulled Sarah into the break room.
"I need to tell you something, and don't laugh."
My friend set down her coffee.
"Daniel, you look terrible."
"Gloria asked me to marry her."
I didn't sleep that night.
Sarah didn't laugh or blink for a second.
Then she rubbed her forehead as if she'd just gotten a headache.
"Please tell me you said no."
"I haven't said anything yet."
"Daniel," She leaned forward. "You know how this looks, right? A 34-year-old orderly marries an 82-year-old woman with no family. People are going to say things. Ugly things. Management will ask questions."
"I know."
"Please tell me you said no."
"Do you? Because if this gets out, your career here, or anywhere in this field, is over."
"She's dying, Sarah. And she's alone. She asked me for one thing."
"She could've asked you for a hundred things that aren't this."
"But that is what she asked for," I insisted.
Sarah studied me for a long moment.
"You're going to say yes, aren't you?"
"She's dying, Sarah."
"I don't know if what I have to lose matters more than what she has to lose," I confessed.
My friend sighed. "That's the problem with you, Daniel. You never think you have anything worth protecting."
***
I went back to Gloria's room that afternoon. She was propped up, reading a paperback, and she smiled the second she saw me.
"You returned sooner than I expected."
"I have my answer."
She set the book down.
"That's the problem with you."
"I want to do it," I said.
Gloria's eyes filled, but she blinked hard and refused to let a single tear fall.
"Then yes?" she whispered.
"Yes."
She squeezed my hand so tightly I could feel every one of her thin, papery fingers. Beside the bed, that old bag sat where it always had, right beneath her palm.
"I want to do it."
***
A week later, Gloria and I were married in a small ceremony in her hospital room. A chaplain officiated. Sarah stood as a witness, quietly, without protesting. Gloria wore a soft pink cardigan and the same stubborn smile she had the day I met her.
I knew most people would never understand my decision.
But if I could give a kind, lonely elderly woman one final moment of happiness, it felt like the least I could do.
Gloria and I were married.
***
Three days after that, and two years after I'd met her, Gloria slipped away in her sleep, my hand still resting beneath hers.
I stood at her funeral in a borrowed black coat, empty and unsure of what came next. That's when Mr. Charleston walked toward me across the wet grass, carrying the worn old bag she had never let anyone touch.
After introducing himself, he placed Gloria's bag in my arms.
It felt heavier than it should have.
Gloria slipped away.
"She chose you for a reason," Mr. Charleston said again, more quietly this time. He reached into a folder. "There's a letter inside the bag, Daniel. She wanted you to read it before anything else happens. Before you make any decisions. She anticipated..."
Right then, a man in a gray suit stepped in front of us as if he owned the place. He was about 50, with thinning hair and a tight jaw. I'd never seen him before, but I knew who he was the second he opened his mouth.
