The two volunteers held his hands, one each, and whispered over his blanket-tucked body.
"Alright," said the pretty one. She had thick chestnut hair and had always been his favorite. Everyone knew it. "I think he's out."
"Finally, a peaceful moment," answered the other, a thin girl with pale and sharp features. She had never been his type, and he had reminded her with every glance. "What was he initially in for?"
"Some brain thing."
"No." She paused and let her eyes fall in disbelief. Then, with a smirk, she said, "he certainly didn't mind the check ups." She winked across the bed.
"Yuk, yuk. Very funny. This is the fourth time this week he'd requested me."
"Do you think that's why his wife never visits anymore?"
"No, I don't think it's just me." And, still holding the man's hand, she embarked on her tale of the latest gossip floating around the hospital.

He was old, that was obvious. Old and getting older, so, with what time he hoped he had left, he took a dance class. It was forty minutes away and taught by an aging, hip-gyrating dancer on a power trip, but it was a dance class nonetheless. The room was filled with pretty girls, readily available for the dancing, and the teacher had a solid "accept all dances" policy, so that no one remained inexperienced.
Ernest was thankful for that - he needed the practice. All these girls, and boys - they had such an advantage over him, with their youth and agility. But he did his best to keep up with them. He even bought himself suede-soled dance shoes.
"Would you like to dance, Lily?" he asked with a slight lisp.
"Sure," a young girl said, through a tight-lipped smile. Ernest closed his eyes, found the beat, and started to dance. When he opened his yes, he was pleased to see that this girl had found his count and was following quite well. And she had always been so patient with him. Of course, she was the TA.
As he began to clumsily spin her, the instructor called out, "Last dance!" She made eye contact with a boy her own age, probably in the local college, standing on the side of the floor. He looked beaten, but Ernest regretted nothing. He had asked her fair and square and, besides, he needed the practice more. When the song was over, and leaned her into a low dip over his knee and held her there for what seemed a romantically long time. Then, in an equally romantic gesture, he lead her over to the nearest chairs. Once again, he saw her make eye contact with the lonely boy, but he had not relinquished her yet.
"Thank you for the dance."
"Of course," she answered, and started to unbuckle her dance shoes.
"There's still music playing, would you like to dance another?"
"I'm pretty beat," she responded. By this point several of her friends were standing idly by, waiting.
"Would you like a ride home?"
Still only averting her eyes rarely from her shoes, she mumbled, "No thanks, I like to walk."
"Well, it's late. Would you like me to walk you?"
"I'll be just fine."
Within seconds, another girl had thrown her arm across Lily's shoulders. "Lily, I need you over here for a sec," she said hurriedly and whisked her away and out the door.
And she was gone. But Ernest was still smiling.

The blonde girl curled her top lip. "Eiw."
"Yeah, I know. And he was like that every week. Must have driven this girl crazy."
"But I always thought he was, like, in love with you."
"No. Well, maybe he was. Maybe there was one young girl everywhere that he tried to seduce. I'm sure his wife must have caught on."
"Eiw, he actually tried to seduce you?" the blonde curled her lip again.
"Kind of. Yeah. I think he just got really attached to the people who stuck around. 'Cause, you know, we had to. Anyway."
There was a pause in which they both let their eyes wander. Then, with a nod, they let his hands fall from theirs, and they stood up.
"Do you think maybe he had Alzheimer's?
"I doubt it," replied the brunette. "He remembers things. He remembers me, and her, and that he still had a wife. He just thought about things differently. Somewhere along the line, he stopped knowing it was wrong to chase girls fifty years younger."
"Or he just forgot he was old."
"Yeah. Just some brain thing. Ready?"
"Yeah." Together, they evenly pulled the sheets from his chest up over his head. "Think this dancer chick will go the funeral?" asked the blonde.
"I doubt it."
"Will you?"
"Oh, God no."