Holy Matrimony
by 
dharker
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Posted: 24 April 2011 Word Count: 400 |
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Bruce reached out for Patience’s hand, her tissue thin skin wrinkled and creased in his grip and he could feel the bones in her hand shift and rearrange as he gently squeezed. They had both aged, he thought, as he pushed back the glasses that constantly slipped down his now bulbous nose. He looked across at her lined and wrinkled face, the tiny round glasses and the snowy white hair that had once been so lustrously black and he smiled.
“Are you comfortable Pusskin?”, he asked affectionately.
“Who are you?”, she asked, giving him a puzzled look.
“I’m Bruce, your husband. Your name is Patience, do you remember when we got married?”
He’d been speaking with the consultant geriatrician, who had suggested that her increasing dementia could be slowed by constant reminders of the past.
“Married? Who got married?”
“We did Pusskin, 50 years ago today, here let me show you some photos”.
He creakily reached into his bag and brought out the large leather covered scrap book and placed it on his knee. Opening the album, he pointed to the first picture; a group of four – three men and a woman.
“That’s you, me of course, and that’s Dick our adopted son. The gentleman at the back is Alfred.”
She peered long and hard at the picture, “Alfred?”
“Yes Pusskin, Alfred. He used to look after the house for us? ”
Bruce turned the page and as he did so a pressed flower slid down onto his lap. He picked it up and handed it to Patience. Even after all these years some of the rose’s wonderful perfume remained. She gazed at it for a moment, then lifted it to her nose and breathed in. Something subtle changed about her and she looked across at him.
“Batty? Is that you?”
He knew now to reign in his hopes, the remission would only be temporary; nevertheless he wanted to make the most of this time with her. She smiled at him and reached over the album to squeeze his hand.
“Yes Pusskin! It’s me… How are you?”
“I’m so glad you came”.
Then she burst out laughing, pointing at the second item in the book. A front page from the local paper, two finely honed figures looked out at them.
“I think we’ve changed a little since that one was taken!”
The headline read “Batman and Catwoman to wed”.
“Are you comfortable Pusskin?”, he asked affectionately.
“Who are you?”, she asked, giving him a puzzled look.
“I’m Bruce, your husband. Your name is Patience, do you remember when we got married?”
He’d been speaking with the consultant geriatrician, who had suggested that her increasing dementia could be slowed by constant reminders of the past.
“Married? Who got married?”
“We did Pusskin, 50 years ago today, here let me show you some photos”.
He creakily reached into his bag and brought out the large leather covered scrap book and placed it on his knee. Opening the album, he pointed to the first picture; a group of four – three men and a woman.
“That’s you, me of course, and that’s Dick our adopted son. The gentleman at the back is Alfred.”
She peered long and hard at the picture, “Alfred?”
“Yes Pusskin, Alfred. He used to look after the house for us? ”
Bruce turned the page and as he did so a pressed flower slid down onto his lap. He picked it up and handed it to Patience. Even after all these years some of the rose’s wonderful perfume remained. She gazed at it for a moment, then lifted it to her nose and breathed in. Something subtle changed about her and she looked across at him.
“Batty? Is that you?”
He knew now to reign in his hopes, the remission would only be temporary; nevertheless he wanted to make the most of this time with her. She smiled at him and reached over the album to squeeze his hand.
“Yes Pusskin! It’s me… How are you?”
“I’m so glad you came”.
Then she burst out laughing, pointing at the second item in the book. A front page from the local paper, two finely honed figures looked out at them.
“I think we’ve changed a little since that one was taken!”
The headline read “Batman and Catwoman to wed”.
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