“Terry, what is love?”

I grinned at her, “What we have. That’s love.” I was sitting on the side of her bed, holding her hand, rubbing my thumb up and down along it’s side. I felt the dry, almost waxy skin through which her bones just about showed, and tried to ignore that IV line dripping into the back of her hand.

She smiled, “Yes, it is. But what is the definition of love?”

I frowned. She was getting serious, and I didn’t want that.

“Well, as you know, I always thought Robert Heinlein had it right when he said that love was that state of being where your happiness depends on the happiness of the person you love.”

She smiled, “Yes, that’s what you’ve always said. Do you believe it?”

I shrugged. “It’s as good a definition as any. It works, and it’s easy to understand, not like all the psychological and philosophical gobbledegook that you hear. Why?”

“Do you love me, by that definition?”

It would have been easy to just say, Of course I do!, but I sensed that this was a serious question, even though I didn’t know where it was going. “Yes…” I said slowly. “It will be hard for me…I mean it would be hard for me to be happy if you weren’t happy. I’m not sure it would be possible. Where are you going with this, Teri?”

“And do you think I love you, by that definition?”

I just looked at her. I was starting to feel…sad, so I decided to try to lighten things up. I guffawed, and said, “Gosh, I sure hope so, after fifty years!”

“No, seriously, Terry. Do you think I love you?”

I stared at her. “Yes. Yes, I do. Why?”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “Because I’m dying, and soon you’ll be on your own.”

“Now, Teri, the doctors…”

She opened her eyes again. “Shut up, Terry. I know what the doctors are saying, and I know what they’re not saying, and I know how I feel.”

She smiled up at me, and said softly, “It won’t be long. And I know you’ll be sad.”

I sniffed, and dropped my eyes, trying not to cry.

“But I can’t be happy unless you’re happy, Terry. And I worry what you’re going to be like when I am gone.”

“I’ll be fine. You know me, I bounce back from things, I always…”

“Shut up, Terry. I know you’re strong. And I know everyone will say how strong you are, what fortitude you’re showing, how noble you seem.

“And I know you’ll be dying inside, and won’t say or show anything about that.”

She paused, as if trying to decide something.

“So,” she finally smiled, “I’ve made a little plan.”

She looked up, and called out, “Veronica! Would you come in here, please, dear?”

I looked up, baffled. What the hell was she up to? She had always surprised me, since the first, snowy night we’d met.

“I met Veronica here in the clinic. Her sister died of breast cancer, and I got to know them both. When Mary Anne, Ronnie’s sister, died, I tried to help her cope with her grief. I’ve come to think of her as a sister, or the daughter we always wanted.”

I stood up, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Veronica. Or do you prefer Ronnie?”

She dimpled at me, “Most people call me Ronnie.” She shrugged, “I’m used to it I guess.” She continued to smile.

“Ronnie, this is Terry, my husband, of whom you’ve heard me speak so much.”

“Nice to meet you, Terry. How are you?”

I glanced at Teri, “Uh, I’m fine, thank.” I decided to go for it, “It’s this one…” indicating Teri, “…that I’m worried about.”

Ronnie’s smile went crooked. “Yes, me, too.” She looked at Teri and smiled. “I’m going to miss her when she’s dead.”

I dropped my head and looked at the floor, tears in my eyes.

Teri spoke up, “Terry.”

I nodded, continuing to stare at the floor.

“Terry!”

I looked at my wife.

“You know I’m going to die, right?”

I nodded as tears started running down my face.

“And I know you’re going to mourn, probably alone, at night, at home where no one can see you. That’s where Ronnie comes in.”

I looked sharply at Ronnie, then back to Teri, “What…?”

“I’ve asked Ronnie to sleep with you. To have sex with you. To make love to you.”

I started to splutter my objections, my face undoubtedly beet red. I couldn’t face Ronnie.

“Shut up, Terry. There isn’t time for this! Come here.” And she patted the bed next to her.

Reluctantly, I sat down next to her and took her hand again. “I’ve never been unfaithful to you…”

“And you won’t be now. How does the wedding vow we took end? Say it for me.”

I thought for a moment, although my stomach was roiling, and my mouth was dry, then said, “…until death do us part.”

“Yes, until death do us part. When I die, I won’t be your wife any longer. You’ll be single again. Just like you were on the night we met. Remember that night?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“I knocked on your door, and you took me in. We made love because it was Christmas Eve, and we were both going to miss Christmas with our families. I didn’t want to be alone, and you took me in.

“It was the most wonderful night of my life. And every night since then has been just as wonderful. Hasn’t it?”

I nodded again, tears streaming down my face. “Oh, God, Teri. I wish it was me, not you!” And I collapsed into her arms, sobbing.

She held my head, smoothing my hair. I could feel the IV line, dragged by her hand, brush across my head. Something made me think of Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Raven,” tapping at my door. I shook my head to dislodge the thought.

I was plainly crying now, shaking, mourning, but feeling the irony of it. Teri was comforting me about her death before she was dead.

How like her.

When I finally slowed down, and sat up, she surprised me again. “Now you’re just being selfish.”

I looked up sharply at her, “Sorry?”

“If you died first, then I’d have to go through all of that. This…” she gestured at the bed, “…is easier.”

I wiped my eyes, “I guess…” And tried to smile, though my eyes felt full and bloated.

Then I remembered, and looked over at Ronnie, who was now sitting in a chair, leaning forward, hands clasped, with her arms on her knees, looking at me solemnly.

“Ronnie’s going to help you through the transition. Terry, I want you to mourn, I want you to miss me, just as I will miss you. But I want you to live, not be buried in the coffin with me! Do you understand me? Do you hear me?”

Her eyes fastened on mine and bored into me.

“I guess…but…” I waved my hand aimlessly, “Why?”

I wasn’t making much sense, but she understood me anyway. But it was Ronnie who spoke. “Terry, when Mary Ann died, I thought I was going to die, too. We were twins, not identical, but we did everything together.”

She looked down. “I was so terribly lonely. For the first time in my life, she wasn’t there to speak to, she wasn’t there when I was happy, she wasn’t there when I was heartbroken.

“She wasn’t there!”

For a moment, I thought Ronnie was going to cry. She bit her lip and looked up. “Then I met Teri,” She nodded at my wife. “And she saved me. Our parents passed several years ago, so I’m a lonely-only now. I was even starting to think about suicide, about joining Mary Ann.

“But Teri broke through the wall of mourning I was building around me. She got me to cry, and held me when I did, and loved me enough that I was able to breathe again, to think again. She saved my life.

“And we got talking, and I naturally asked about her and her life…which brought us to you.

“Terry, you have no idea how desperately worried she is about you. So, I told her I would look after you, that I would do for her what she did for me.”

I was crying again now. I’ve always been a sorry sop. I used to cry at movies, and at stories of people who were brave in the face of tragedy, and all sort of things. And Teri used to poke…gentle… fun at me, then hug me.

But she wasn’t going to be there any more.

They let me cry, while Teri stroked my hand, holding it in her other.

Finally, I looked up at Teri, “Okay, I get that. But why do you insist she sleeps with me? She can be my friend…the daughter we never…”

“Because I know you, Terry,” she interrupted. “You’ll see her, and have lunch with her, and smile at her, and maybe even go to a movie with her. But you’ll keep her outside while you’re dying inside.

“No. She has to get inside your…your wall of mourning. And…” Teri smiled again at me, “…I know if you sleep with her, you’ll let her in.”

This was all…overwhelming, outrageous! “But how does she…why would she…”

Ronnie smiled, and said, “When I was younger, I used to be a sex worker. I’ve slept with a lot of people. It helped pay my way through university.

“Sex can be as casual, or as meaningful, as you want it to be.” She sat up, looking at me. “You’re, what, seventy? I’m forty-five. That’s a big difference. But, one thing I learned, way back when, is that between the sheets, we’re just people.

“Yes, there are physical differences. Yes, we lose some capacity as we get older. But the essence of sex isn’t physical. It’s mental, or emotional, or even spiritual. It’s a way of reaching out of our loneliness to another person.

“And sure, it can be tawdry, or nasty, or even violent. But so can a lot of other human interactions.

“But sex between two people, as opposed to just two bodies, is one way we can comfort each other in the dark times of life.

“I’d like to have sex with you, Terry, for me as well as for you. Your wife tells me you’re pretty good in bed!” She smiled sadly. “And I haven’t had ‘pretty good’ in quite some time.”

I hadn’t the first clue what to say. I sat there with my mouth open.

Teri shook me. “Shut your mouth, Terry, you’re catching flies.”

I looked at her. “You’re sandbagging me.”

She nodded, “Yes,” she said, “I am. What are you going to do about it?”

And she smiled.

~~~~~

It was raining. It seemed appropriate. I stood by the graveside, getting wet, not thinking, just standing there.

Everyone else had gone. I told them all I’d be along presently, and I would. And I would be gracious, and strong…and walled up in my mourning, just as Teri knew I would.

“Time to go, Terry,” a voice said behind me. “You’ll catch your death.”

I turned and saw Veronica, holding an umbrella.

“Maybe I want to,“ I replied.

She looked at me. “She…” Veronica lifted her chin towards the grave, “…wouldn’t want that. Would she?”

I shook my head.

“Come on…” And she held out her hand.

I looked at her for a long time, then took it.