he would marry us.
“A groom has standards,” he said, tugging at it.
“You look like a very sick penguin.”
“Marry me anyway.”
I did.
I stood beside his bed and promised things I had believed since I was a child.
My voice cracked on every vow.
“You look like a very sick penguin.”
The nurses in the doorway wiped their eyes on their sleeves.
When the chaplain pronounced us husband and wife, Ben pulled me down gently and pressed his forehead to mine.
“Best day of my life,” he
