Speak to Me
He looks at me, even smiles a slight smile. But he doesn't say a word. He closes his eyes, his head turns to the left, and he's asleep. It's a dance we perform every couple of hours or so. A dance we've done for three days now. I just want him to say something….anything. I need to hear his voice. The doctor says that he's extremely weak, and that his not talking is not uncommon. Tells me to be patient. One word, is that too much to ask? I pull up a chair next to his bed and take his hand in mine. Slowly he opens his eyes. I squeeze his hand. He smiles. Then he closes his eyes and goes to sleep. I continue my vigil, watching, waiting. I lean my head against my arm, my hand still gripping Starsky's hand. Out of nowhere the tears come. Damn it, why did this have to happen? I wipe the tears away with my free hand. He pulls his hand out from under mine and places it on my head. "S'kay. I gotcha." He smiles. Then he closes his eyes, and he's asleep. "Yeah, Buddy, you do. Forever."