Mr. Henry was the one admitted as a patient, but the nurses took care of Miss Alice, too. Mr. Henry had to have been in his late forties when he married simple-minded little Miss Alice, a girl of fourteen. Nowadays, that would have been a case for the courts, but when it happened back in the sixties, there was no one to speak for Miss Alice. They’d been married more than thirty years when I knew them and appeared to dote on each other. Miss Alice never voluntarily left his side, except to go down to the courtyard to bum cigarettes from patients and staff smoking in the long ago days when hospitals had smoking areas. Sometimes she even talked folks out of a little money. After a successful run, she’d bring a couple back up to him to smoke in the room. Miss Alice ended almost every conversation with, “I…
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