“No, you eat it.” He touched her shoulder lightly. “You’ve gotten so thin.”
She leaned into him and he wrapped an arm around her and the tightness she’d been carrying around loosened. But not entirely. It never went away entirely. She was always alert for the word she couldn’t recall, the fuzziness lurking like a fog offshore, waiting to envelop her when she least expected it. It might be Alzheimer’s and it might not, but either way life was short, and she could spend it worrying about what might be coming or she could get on with living.
But it wasn’t just about her. If she and Glenn were going to have a chance, he needed to understand what might lie ahead. She needed to be straight with him.
She turned to face him, her heart stuttering. “I’m forty-nine, fifty in November. I could be a ticking time bomb. My mom was this age when her Alzheimer’s surfaced.”
“Only forty-nine?” His eyes twinkled. “I pegged you for much older.” He managed to keep a straight face for a second, then burst out laughing at her look of dismay. “I don’t care how old you are or what your family history is. Honestly, I wouldn’t even have guessed you were forty-nine.”
“It’s not a joke. My mom was fifty-four when she died. I could be smearing lipstick on my eyelids in a few years. I’m not going to presume we have a future together, but I can’t ask you to sign up for that. It’s not fair.”
He turned to her, serious now. “Who said life is fair? Is it fair that your dad got dementia too? It didn’t run in hisfamily and nobody predicted that, right? Who knows what’s coming. I could get stung one too many times and go into anaphylactic shock and die.”
She looked at him, horrified. “You could?”
“It’s not likely, I’m just saying. You can’t worry about what might or might not be around the bend. Bee colonies collapse for no apparent reason. One day they’re doing okay, and the nextday all the bees are gone. Vanished.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. Nobody knows why it happens.”
She shifted on the concrete steps. “A colony collapse would be terrible, but you can get more bees. There’s no bouncing back from Alzheimer’s. If I inherited the mutation from my mom, I’ll definitely end up with early onset.”
“So you didn’t get tested after all?”
A couple of kids lazed by on bikes, their voices carrying on the still summer air. Life could be so achingly beautiful. Until it wasn’t. “I decided I didn’t want to know because there’s not a damn thing they can do. Just raise my insurance rates. I don’t want to be a hostage to Alzheimer’s. I want to live like I don’t have it.”
He threaded his fingers through hers. “I wouldn’t have said this before, but I’m glad you didn’t test. I don’t know what’s going to happen with us. I don’t know if you’re going to get Alzheimer’s. I don’t know if my bees are going to get sick and die or just up and disappear. But I do know what I want to happen. I want to be with you. That’s it. I want to stay up late talking to you. I want to see you laugh. I even want to eat these fucking veggie wraps.” He flicked aside the offending wrapper. “And if I’m lucky enough, I hope to get you in bed and make love to you. That’s what I want. The rest is out of our control.”
“Even if we only have a few good years together?” A lump rose in her throat. All well and good to stay positive but Andrew could lose her too, grieving his whole life the way she grieved her own mother.
Glenn’s gaze didn’t waver. “If I walk away, we won’t have any years together. That to me would be way worse.”
She looked at him—his beautiful eyes with the lines deepening around them. His beard, flecked with gray. He would be handsome at eighty if they were lucky enough to live thatlong. She kissed him right there on the front porch, a long lingering kiss. Who cared what the neighbors thought.
He wanted her, eyes wide open.
“Don’t let me wander outside in my nightgown, okay?” she murmured.
He kissed the top of her head. “Never.”
“And stop me if I put salt in my coffee.”
“Of course.”
“And if I think my phone is the remote, humor me.”
“Always.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t I get a pass on anything?”
She smiled. “Absolutely not. Someone has to keep their wits about them.”
They sat on the steps a while longer, watching the neighbor across the street mow his lawn. Waving back when he raised a hand in greeting. “It’s funny,” she said after a bit. “I haven’t been as forgetful lately. I did misplace the shopping list the other day, but who doesn’t do that. I haven’t blanked on big things though, like appointments or people’s names. The scary stuff. Ever since I saw the genetic counselor, I’ve just felt calmer about the whole thing.”
“You were under a lot of stress. That might have had something to do with it.”
“That’s what she said.”
“Go with it then.” He drew her close. “That’s my professional opinion.”
She lifted her face to the sun, which had shifted while they sat. The day was warm but not uncomfortably so. In fact, it felt perfect.
“That’s exactly what I intend to do.”
