And Ever

The worst pain that Walt Baker ever felt in his chest was in the moment that, try as he might, he found himself too weak to reach his wife Helen's face as she stood over him crying, and instead had to watch her tears slide down her cheeks and, one by one, drip off onto the white tile floor. His arm wouldn't lift, wouldn't do anymore than twitch, but Helen took his hand in both of hers and clutched it hard to her heart. Walt squeezed back with all the strength left in his old, frail body. Realization for them was almost simultaneous—in no time at all, Walt was going to die. His respiratory system was failing. It hurt to breathe. As his hand's grip on Helen's was fading out, with his last few, shallow breaths, he croaked out in an inaudible whisper, "I love you..."

Helen closed her eyes as her husband closed his. In her mind, she heard those four words clearly, just the way Walt had spoken them for the very first time.

I'll love you forever.

And to the empty hospital room, Helen responded the way she always had when Walt had been there to hear.

"Forever and ever."

As if in a sort of dream state, Walt heard a voice call to him through total and utter nothingness.

Welcome, Mr. Baker, to limbo, the voice began. Congratulations on reaching the end of your life.

Why do you congratulate me? Walt mused. I loved my life. I was happy.

Sometimes you were happy, the voice corrected him. Sometimes you were not. Sometimes you were furious, terrified, ashamed, miserable, or in complete agony. Now you may finally escape those feelings and be at peace forever.

Yes, often times I was miserable. But sometimes I experienced joy, bliss, amusement, ecstasy. I was in love. I'd sacrifice eternal peace for that without question.

Is that true? the voice asked.

Walt thought he had heard it chuckle, but nonetheless confirmed his bold statement. It's true.

There was a drawn-out pause, then the voice ended the conversation with, Well then, enjoy.

Walt felt his grip coming back.

Helen felt it too, and at first, all her muscles froze. She watched her husband open his eyes, back from the dead. "Walter?"

"Helen," Walt spoke, just to affirm that he was real and alive.

Fresh tears made their way down Helen's cheeks, tears of joy and thankfulness. "Oh Walt, I thought I had lost you." She leaned in to embrace him tightly, but only did so gingerly to avoid damaging his delicate body. "How are you feeling?"

"Renewed," he answered. "Young again, almost."

"The pain is not so bad?"

"Not so bad?" Walt laughed, getting out of the hospital bed in one swift movement and further startling his wife. "It's gone, Helen!" He wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed and this time it was he who was worried about harming her. He kissed her like he had when they were young, his lips warm and vital. There was no more pain, only love, and Walt couldn't have asked for anything more.

Later that day, they left the hospital. The doctors were astounded to find that not only had all signs of Walt's lung disease completely vanished, but his organs were functioning as well as if Walt were in his early thirties. They had called it a miracle, a gift from God. Walt had said that that's exactly what it was.

"Walt?" Helen began as they drove away from the hospital, her brow furrowing. She sat in the passenger's seat; Walt had insisted upon driving, but Helen thought he was confused because he was heading the wrong way. "Aren't we going home?"

"I'd like to take you out, Helen," Walt said. "What do you say?"

"Well, all right," she agreed uncertainly, "although I'm not exactly in my best dress."

"You've never looked more beautiful," Walt told her, taking his eyes from the road for a second to see that it was true.

They pulled into the parking lot of the old roller rink at which, many years ago, Helen and Walt had spent much of their free time with friends, and at which they had gone on several dates and, at some point, fallen in love. The establishment was still open, only now it was also an arcade and a bowling alley. Even if only seldom used, the rink was still there.

"Oh Walter," Helen breathed, tears welling up in her eyes once more. Despite how it had changed, just seeing what was left of the exterior of the place where she and Walt had shared so many fond memories brought Helen back to her youth. Like Walt, the ache in her bones had subsided and she began to feel decades younger.

A young man greeted Walt and Helen upon their entry. Walt asked him, "Do you still rent skates?"

"For the roller rink? Sure, we have a few. What size?"

"Women's six and men's eleven," Walt said to the young man working at the rink, who exchanged two pairs of roller skates for eight dollars. Just outside of the rink, Helen sat down on a bench and let Walt lace her skates.

"It's been so long," she mused. "I hope I remember how."

"You will," Walt assured her. "You'll be great, just like always."

They went out onto the roller rink together, hand in hand. Helen squeezed Walt's hand as she struggled to keep her balance, but after half a lap, she was gliding gracefully across the polished wooden floor. She laughed, her hair blowing back as she and Walt picked up speed.

Suddenly they were sixteen again. It was their fourth date at the roller rink, on a Friday night in autumn, and the place was packed. Walt and Helen were skilled skaters and were becoming well-known at the rink, so when they could, they liked to steal the spotlight. They took to center stage, dancing and spinning rapidly with everyone watching. Walt twirled Helen twice, and then he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her as high as he could. Helen smiled ear to ear, looking out over the other skaters' heads. She was a giant. Walt had always made Helen feel this way, and not only at the roller rink. Helen recalled those few seconds vividly, as it was in those few seconds that she first realized she might love him.

As Walt was bringing Helen down, she slipped a little, and instead of landing nimbly on her feet like she might have at sixteen, the seventy-five-year-old woman fell into a heap at her husband's feet. He immediately dropped to her side.

"My hip," she complained. "I can't get up."

Walt did something then that, only a few hours ago, he believed he would never again have the need to do. He called for an ambulance. Helen was taken to the emergency clinic.