"Thank you," he finally said. "For helping. You didn't have to do that."
I looked at him, at the shadows under his eyes, and the way he held himself too carefully, like one wrong move would shatter something. The exhaustion written into every line of his face.
"How bad is it?"
He exhaled slowly. "Bad. It’s getting worse every week." His hand went to his hair, gripping for a second before dropping. "Most days she doesn't know who I am. Yesterday she thought Dad was a burglar. Called 911 on him."
"Oh, Matt..."
"We're looking at memory care facilities. Can't keep her at home much longer. Dad can't handle it alone and I'm…" He stopped. "It's time."
His voice was steady, but he’d balled his hands into fists to stop them from trembling. I didn't know what to say. Nothing felt adequate.
"You look good," he said quietly. "Happy."
"I am."
"With Caleb?"
"Yeah."
He nodded, the motion both gentle and heavy. "Good. That's… that's really good."
A gust of wind cut through the parking lot and I pulled my jacket tighter.
"I should go," Matt said. "Dad'll need help getting her settled."
"Yeah. Of course."
"Thanks again. Really."
"Don’t thank me, Matt. Your mom was always good to me. Just…" I hesitated, trying to pick the right words and failing miserably. "Take care."
"You too."
He walked to his truck, got in, and sat there for a moment with his hands on the wheel. Then he started the engine and pulled away. I watched his taillights disappear into traffic.
Then I walked to my truck, climbed in, closed the door.
My hands were shaking.
I gripped the steering wheel hard as I stared out at the parking lot. People coming and going, life happening all around with an ever moving river.
And then it hit me, the weight of it all, like a wave I didn't see coming.
I started crying, full sobs that tore out of my chest. I doubled over, gasping for air, everything in my hurting.
Matt was watching his mother disappear. Piece by piece, day by day. She didn't know who he was anymore. She thought strangers were breaking into her house. She thought he and I were still together, still planning a future.
You'll make such beautiful babies.
We'd talked about it, had started trying. We had names picked out—Sophie for a girl, James for a boy. We'd even debated nursery colors, talked about which room would be the baby's. The future had been right there, close enough to touch.
That future didn't exist anymore.
If he hadn't cheated, if we'd stayed married, if none of it had broken…
I'd be the one standing beside him at the grocery store, calming his mother down. I'd be the one he came home to after bad days. I'd be there when they toured care facilities, when they made the impossible decision to move her. I'd hold him when he cried.
