Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

towards us as the elevator door dinged open. Thank God, it was still on our floor from when she had come up.
    Andrew and I walked in silence to his car, which was parked in the lot behind my building. He got in the driver side and sat for a moment before putting the key in the ignition.
    "So, that was your Mother?"
    I took a deep breath. "Yeah. I don't know why she came but if she finds us at the hospital somehow, don't let her take charge. She's good at that, but I don't want her making any decisions for me. Please, don't let her." I spoke pleadingly. This was hard enough as it was.
    He reached over and grabbed my hand. "I won't. I promise."
    He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. The drive to the hospital was not a long one, and we pulled into the valet parking a mere 15 minutes later.
    From there we were rushed off to pre-surgery, where we were subjected to a flurry of nurses, techs and various other hospital employees all wanting something: a signature, a vial of blood, an answer.
    It finally calmed down about twenty minutes before I was scheduled to be taken in. Andrew climbed on the skinny hospital bed with me, and I curled into his side resting my head on his shoulder.
    When I started talking I wasn't looking him in the eyes but my voice was strong and steady. "Andrew, you are the best thing that ever happened to me, and I am so glad I got to love you. No matter what happens today, just remember that."
    He twisted his shoulders around a bit so we could look at each other. His hazel eyes bored into mine as he replied, "I love you, too. Nothing will ever change that."
    Then he kissed me gently on the lips. It wasn't a kiss of passion or heat. It was a tender assurance of our feelings and a physical declaration of our love.
    We broke apart when I heard someone new enter the room. She was dressed differently than everyone else, in regular office type clothes instead of scrubs or a lab coat, and she had a cross necklace hanging outside of her clothes.
    I cringed, thinking that the last thing I needed before going into surgery was a conversion attempt, or perhaps a homophobic lecture. But she was still smiling, even after witnessing our kiss so I tried to loosen up a bit.
    "Hi, my name is Jenny and I am one of the chaplains here at the hospital. I just came in to see how you were doing before surgery."
    We talked for a few minutes about why I was having surgery, and a few other things before she wished me luck and asked if she could pray for me. I am not particularly religious, but if she was offering without a cringe then whatever God she believed in might not be so bad to have on my side. I wasn't going to have a pre-surgery come to Jesus moment, but it was nice that someone cared enough to say a prayer.
    "Sure, okay."
    She put her hand on my shoulder and one on Andrew's shoulder. "Dear Heavenly God, One of your precious children, Shawn, needs your help today. Please be a blessing on all his doctors and nurses. Guide their hands and their minds with your skills and wisdom and allow them to be instruments of your healing. God, please be a spirit of healing in his body as he recovers from his surgery. Give Shawn and Andrew strength and courage to make it through this day and let them know that they are not alone. In your loving name, Amen."
    I smiled at her and thanked her for her prayer, knowing I wasn't alone, not because God was with me, but because Andrew sat next to me, arm around my shoulder and heart in my chest.
    Andrew kissed me one more time before I was taken away to surgery. The last thing I remembered was counting back from 100 with a mask over my face.
    CHAPTER 5
    10 am – 2 hours into surgery
    The woman walked into the surgery waiting room with an almost royal grace. Her heels clicked crisply on the antiseptic looking tiles that the floors were made of as she practically glided to the center of the room. Her grace, however, stopped at her face. It looked ragged. Her makeup was all off by just a little, like she had rubbed her face with her hands multiple times over the past few hours, and stark wrinkles framed her tired eyes. She looked remarkably different than the woman who had run into her son that morning in an apartment hallway.
    It was the same woman, though. Her gaze finally alighted on a semi-familiar face. Andrew . She remembered the name from the night her son had walked out of her life. She had travelled to the city to try and convince him to take back what he had said and