Tyler sat up, a smugly satisfied look on his face, as he smoothed out the sheet and duvet in front of him, waiting for Jeanine to finally come to bed.
He knew she wouldn’t take long, this being their big night and all, and he was certain she was as anxious as he was.
His whole time in the hospitals in Afghanistan and Germany, and now finally home, he had dreamed of nothing else but Jeanine, who told him his scars and paralysis meant nothing to her.
Tyler sent the nursing aide home with a wink because they all were pleased–doctors, therapists, shrinks and his family–he was finally ready to spend the night without a medical person in the apartment.
He took the extra Ambien he’d hidden, laid back a few minutes and smiled–the first really big smile since they told him that drunk had killed Jeanine on I-95 while she was driving to visit Tyler in Walter Reed–then pulled the plug on the ventilator and waited, knowing this really was the night they dreamed of and Jeanine wouldn’t be long.
©Joseph Hesch 2012
This week’s little story is written in response to Lillie McFerrin’s Five-Sentence Fiction prompt “Night