The Courting Never Ends

Two weeks before we share our vows, in my Miller Hospital x-ray scrubs, I sit, a lull in the activity of the morning exams with Helen, a fellow wheel chair jockey. Closely she examines me, “Do you want to have a happy marriage?” I nod in affirmation. “Do you know the secret?” “No,” slips quietly from my lips, “Do you want to know?” “Yes, of course.” Her eyes flash behind her glasses, accentuating her words, “The courting never ends. The courting never ends.” She reads the puzzlement that paints my face, with exclamation points behind each word she emphasizes, “You must never stop dating your wife.” Stories of Friday night steak dinners, with her deceased lover of many years, during a shared lifetime peppered with want and plenty. Her words repeated until locked In my subconscious, our brief, intense encounter interrupted by the needs of another hospital patient. I sit here with you on our date night, our baby in a high chair, our two very young sons at their places around the small rectangular table in our kitchen. Two Dairy Bar pizzas, a pepperoni for the boys, the supreme for you and me, Gerbers for the baby, a poor substitute for steak on a Friday night, but one meal you will not cook, just enjoy. Date night is not what it once was, but our love requires some small gesture, even in poverty, of just being with each other, two lovers with the evidence of their love around them, enjoying a piece of locally made pizza, with the words of an old German x-ray aide echoing from long before, “The courting never ends. The courting never ends.” (c) 2016, Robert Charles Wagner. All rights reserved.