Melvin felt the pinch near his toes at every step as he helped Vivian into their green Camry. His

whole foot throbbed inside his orthopedic sneaker as he opened the passenger side door and

eased her into the seat, a hand on the small of her back. He grimaced. There wasn't time for this.

They were already late.

As he walked around to the driver's side he remembered he'd forgotten to wrap her in the seat

belt. Gosh, he thought, I'm getting as bad as her. Then, frowning, thought, no, of course not, not

as bad as her. Once he secured the belt around her purple cashmere sweater he kissed her cheek

and ruffled her white bangs. She grinned up, pink lipstick on her teeth. I'll have to wipe that

before we go in to the doctor's, he thought, and closed the door.

"What would you like for lunch today?" He pulled out into the street. He pressed the break and

felt the pain in his toes again. "You know, after?"

"Salad. Don't we like to get salads?"

He nodded. Good, he thought, that was easy. There was a place nearby and they'd probably

remember her.

"Do you like that?" she asked.

"Yes, yes I do," he smiled and turned the wheel. He patted her knee. Once I get her settled with

lunch, he thought, I might have a second to take off this darn shoe.

Marie Cloutier (she/her) is a writer and poet. Her work has appeared in HerStry, Corvus Review, Scribes Micro, Neologism Poetry Journal, Bare Back Magazine and elsewhere. She is at work on a memoir. Her website is www.mariecloutier.com.

Author's Notes: My story is about managing illness and caretaking, and taking care of someone else's needs while also having to manage one's own. It's about love and acceptance and how we care for each other. It's about how the body is always present, always at the forefront, how we show love to each other and ourselves by caring for the vessels that carry us through our lives.