“Mom’s not here anymore.”
He scoffed. “Yes, I know that. She’s living it up in Paris.” He smiled. “It’s too bad she can’t see you now. She’d be so proud of the man you’ve become.”
I nodded, pushing down a lump of emotion. I didn’t allow thoughts of my mother to infiltrate my mind. Ever. “Dad, are you okay?”
“Me? Never better!” He returned to his desk. “I’m about ready for dinner, though. Unraveling the secrets of the universe is hungry work. Let’s order a pizza!”
“Sure.”
When the pizza arrived, I put on a movie, something I’d started doing recently to keep up with Dean’s references. But I couldn’t focus;I had one eye onFerris Bueller’s Day Offand one on my dad. He chuckled at the funny parts, ate pizza, then popcorn, and all seemed well… But later that night I woke to pots and pans banging in the kitchen. Dad was making breakfast at 3:00 a.m.
On Monday morning, I called the Academy front office and told them I’d be late, then made the phone call I’d been dreading but couldn’t put off any longer.
***
“This is ridiculous,” my father said in an exam room at a medical clinic in Newport. “And it’s taking valuable time away from my work.”
“I know,” I said. “But a checkup can’t hurt, right?”
Dad shot me a hard look. “Don’t tell me you’re suddenly believing what they said about me at the NIST,” he said. “Is that what this is about? That I’m losing my mind?”
“I’m notsuddenlybelieving anything, Dad. I’m worried about you.”
He said nothing, and then the doctor arrived with a balding head and friendly demeanor.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Mandel,” he said. “You’re Xander, here with your dad, Mr. Ford?”
“Dr. Ford,” I said quickly. “He has PhDs in philosophy, particle physics, and applied mathematics.”
Don’t let him lose it all, please.
“Impressive.”
Dr. Mandel turned to my father, who looked less like a thrice-degreed scientist and more like a petulant child on the exam table. “And what brings you here today, Dr. Ford?”
Dad jerked a thumb at me sullenly. “Ask him.”
“I think,” I said slowly, “we should address some of my dad’s recent episodes with forgetfulness.”
“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Dad grumbled.
With a pain in my heart, I told the doctor about his breakdown inBethesda, his restless nights, and his episodes of confusion and blankness. Dad looked at me the entire time, wounded. As if I’d betrayed him.
Dr. Mandel nodded. “Xander, would you mind giving me a moment with your dad?”
I gladly stepped outside and sat in the waiting room, chewing on my thumbnail.
Twenty minutes later, the doctor came out, alone. “Your father is just using the restroom, but I wanted to tell you, I have some concerns.”
“Okay,” I said warily.
“He’s in wonderful physical health,” he said, taking a seat opposite mine. “But cognitively, I am seeing a few warning signs.”
“Warning signs of?”
“Early onset dementia. Possibly Lewy body dementia.”
My heart dropped to my stomach and clanged a heavy beat.
