The next day

The day after the Dancing, we sat quietly in the lounge. This took awhile, walking up and down the ward until he was calm, and then negotiating all those heavy doors with mysterious buttons that beep, and then another stroll around the main lounge, hopefully not freaking out any more “normal” residents.

Eventually he agreed to settle and we watched the people come and go, some of whom stopped to say, “Hi Don,”and be acknowledged with somewhat baffled proud dignity. He is not sure why “everybody knows me.”

Then after some calm, he spoke. The words were stammered, staggered, but consistent.

“You are beautiful.” (I secretly gave thanks for this persistent illusion, and for his eye that saw and still sees!)

Quietly, with grave determination, “I want to sleep with you, I want …to live with you….I want to be your husband… we could have a wonderful life together. ”

And, checking out the competition, “Is anyone else after you?”

“No,” I answer, stroking his cheek, “you are my only man. You and me did have a wonderful life.”

But that response is way out of the ballpark we are playing in, and his response is, “Well cmon babe, we’d better get going. Don’t you disappear.”

But of course as soon as we wandered back to the ward and he was distracted again, I did.