I'd known her six weeks when she caught me checking a loan reminder.
"Bad news?"
"I worked weekends through medical school. Still paying for it."
She made a face.
"They should give you a refund for that handwriting."
"Bad news?"
***
Then the medication stopped working.
On Tuesday, the attending told her family she likely had about three days.
Afterward, I hesitated outside her room.
I had no new treatment to offer, and I dreaded seeing her look to me for one.
Instead, she asked me to sit down.
The medication stopped working.
"I have one last wish."
"What is it?"
"I want to marry you."
I thought she was joking. She smiled weakly.
"Come on. I don't want to show up in heaven as an unmarried woman."
"I have one last wish."
"Alicia, I'm your doctor."
"You're not who I'd choose if I were marrying for love, doc." She glanced at a nurse walking past and blushed, then turned back to me. "But I have my reasons."
