Stitches

I drove you to the hospital that day.  It was the Fourth of July and I couldn’t look directly at you, so I just drove.  You called her on the way and told her you loved her.  I bit my tongue and kept my eyes on the road.  The waiting room was this horrible dance, and I didn’t know whether to follow you or not.  I didn’t know if you wanted me.  But you beckoned, and I kept you company, and eventually a nurse came into the room to find out why we were being so loud.

We were laughing.  We were laughing about everything.  I signed your discharge papers.

I need the company now.  Someone to hold my hand when the needles hurt, to pet my hair and distract me.  You’re the one I want to drive me to the hospital.

But I can’t ask you for that.

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