“Hi, mom,” I choke out, fighting back the tears.
She releases me but guides me to the chair across from her. I shuck off my coat and settle in.
I nod to the pink arrangement of roses, carnations, and chrysanthemums between us. “Where did these come from? Aunt Shelly? They’re beautiful.”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “They’re from Glenn down the hall.”
My brows pinch together and I cock my head. “Glenn?” I ask accusatorily. From what I remember, he’s in his early seventies and he’s in here for… well, I don’t really know what he’s in here for. He always seems so surly but confident.
She sighs with an irritated but amused look, “He’s… been sweet on me lately.” She looks down and fiddles with her wedding rings. “It’s annoying, really. I mean, I’m married.”
I look at her and raise an eyebrow. Trying to gauge if she really thinks she still is, or if she’s trying to make an excuse.
She relents. “Well, widowed. But still. I can’t just… turn off your father’s memory like that.”
“No one is asking you to, mom. He’s always going to be with you.”
She stops fidgeting with her rings and flexes her hand away. “I know. But isn’t it inappropriate for Glenn to be doing this?”
“Is he single?”
“Yes.”
“Then no, it’s not.” I study her a beat longer. “Is he pressuring you?”
Her mouth falls open and she places her hand on her chest, “No!” she squeaks. “He’s been a gentleman.”
“So what’s the problem?”
She looks out the window and shakes her head almost imperceptibly, her mouth in a tight line. “It’s too soon. It might always be too soon.”
I nod my understanding as my heart breaks for her. She’s lost her husband, her home, and her memory most days. I think about what it would feel like to lose either of my men and my entire body feels like a manifestation of heartache. I’ve been with them for such a short time, and I feel this way? My mom was with my dad for almost four decades, I can only imagine her pain and suffering.
It’s awful to think this, but maybe her memory loss is a bittersweet blessing: she doesn’t remember her husband is dead. Most days.
She twists the vase a few degrees and looks over to me. “He’s only doing this because my massage therapist is gorgeous and he’s jealous.”
I slam my eyes closed and laugh like an idiot.
Oh my god, my mom thinks my boyfriend is gorgeous.
I clear my throat after cackling. “Marco?”
She gives me a quizzical look. “Yes. Do you know him? I guess you probably do. He’s here pretty often.”
I don’t know where to start. Do I tell her he’smyhot massage therapist? I don’t know where her memory totally is right now, so I don’t want to shock her and reveal I’m dating him when she might think I’m still married.
“Yeah, I’ve seen him around. He’s pretty hot, huh?”
She fans herself and gives me a knowing smirk. “He’s so handsome, I can’t breathe around him sometimes.”
With my big grin, I scrunch up my shoulders and crinkle my nose, “I’m gonna tell him!” I tease in a singsong voice.
Her eyes widen and she leans toward, slapping my knee. “You are not!”
Chapter 11
An Unexpected Guest
