For several seconds, I thought I had misheard him.
“What?”
“I know how it sounds.”
“Carl, we haven’t known each other very long.”
“I know.”
“You’re sick. You’re taking powerful medication. Maybe we should talk to your nurse.”
“My mind is clear.”
He looked directly at me.
“That’s why I’m asking today.”
I stood and walked toward the window.
My heart was pounding.
Carl and I had become close, but we had never spoken romantically. He had never kissed me, flirted with me, or suggested that our friendship was anything other than companionship.
“Why?” I finally asked.
His answer came softly.
“Because I would like to die knowing I belong to someone.”
I turned around.
“You have friends.”
“I have acquaintances. Employees from another life. Relatives who care more about what I can give them than who I am.”
“You have me,” I said.
His eyes filled with tears.
“Yes. I do.”
He took a slow breath.
“I am not asking for a traditional marriage. I don’t expect romance or anything physical. I would never ask you for that. I only want to spend whatever time I have left knowing there is one person in the world who chose to call me family.”
I sat down again.
“Why me?”
“Because you walk into rooms where people have lost everything, and you don’t look away.”
His voice trembled.
“You don’t treat sick people like unfinished tragedies. You make them feel human.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Carl continued.
“I understand what kind of person you are. It would mean everything to me. It is the one thing I would like to do before I die.”
Every logical thought in my mind told me to refuse.
We barely knew each other.
People would misunderstand.
There could be legal consequences.
But beneath all those concerns was another truth.
I cared about him.
Not in the dramatic way shown in movies. Our connection was quieter than that. It had grown through cups of tea, unfinished chess games, ordinary conversations, and afternoons when neither of us had needed to speak.
I couldn’t bear the thought of him facing his final days believing he belonged to no one.
“I need to understand something,” I said. “Is this about money, property, or avoiding medical decisions?”
“No.”
