“Goodbye, Al. I really am sorry.”
Then she disappears out the door.
Chapter Seven
Delaney
Ireverse my car out of the driveway and stop to stare at the house for a moment. In nineteen days, this will no longer be my home. Unless I get a serious move on in my search for apartment rentals, I’m not going to have anywhere to stay. I pull away, getting lost in my thoughts.
My mom bought this small two-bedroom bungalow about sixteen years ago. Her divorce from my stepfather, Jerry, had just become final, and she wanted something she owned herself. Somewhere that wasourhome. We had always rented until she married Jerry.
It was Mom’s first and only marriage, but Jerry and my mom were over in the blink of an eye. They were married for three years—from the time I was eleven until shortly after I turned fourteen.
I was sad when we moved out. Jerry was nice to me. Plus, Mom cut down to one full-time job while they were together. Everything was good there. Well, except for Cassandra, my stepsister.
Cassandra was only a year older than me, but she hated me. I suspect it was because I got to live with her father and spend more time with him than she did. So, she made my life a living hell for those three years. I shiver just thinking about her.
When I pull into the parking lot at my destination, I’m a little bothered that I don’t remember the drive. Maybe it’s because there’s been too much on my mind lately.
I get out of the car and grab the mini cooler from the back, then head inside the building. I missed dinner today because I was tied up on a phone call with the realtor who sold the house for us.
No one is manning the front desk when I get inside, so I sign in and walk over to the Memory Care Unit. I punch the code into the keypad on the wall and walk through the door when it unlocks.
“Can you let me out? I have to go home,” a trembling voice asks.
I nearly jump out of my skin, not having seen Alice—one of the other patients—standing only a few feet from the door. After the door closes completely, I make sure it locks before moving away.
“I’m sorry, Alice. That way isn’t the way home. Do you want to walk with me?” I try to encourage her with my words to step away, but she isn’t having it.
I feel bad leaving her, except I need to get to Mom, and I’m later than usual, so she’s probably going to be upset. I walk the short distance to Mom’s room, but she isn’t there. She’s also not in the common area where several residents are sitting in front of a television. I’ve yet to see a nurse or an aide. When I don’t find her at either of the first two locations, I walk to the dining room, thinking maybe there’s an activity going on there this evening.
My heart sinks when I see my mom and two other residents sitting at different tables, isolated, with trays of food in front of them. Mom’s is untouched.
My chest constricts and I rush toward Mom’s table. I’m not sure if I’m sad or angry. It’s likely a combination of the two. I force a smile but then I stop and watch Mom for a moment. I need to get my emotions under control before I get to her.
She’s staring across the room, oblivious to the fact that dinner ended forty-five minutes ago. She doesn’t seem to notice that not only did no one help her eat, but they left her. The three residents sit abandoned in the dining room. I imagine they would stay there until someone realizes they’re missing.
As I walk the rest of the way across the room and take a seat next to her, I wonder how long she would have been in here if I hadn’t come tonight.
Thisis why I come almost every night to feed her dinner. Sometimes Mrs. Nicker comes to give me a break, and Mom’s one remaining friend, Pat, comes about once every other week to help. But someone is always here for dinner.
“Hey, Mom.” She glances over at me, but from the blank look on her face, I can already tell that today is probably one of the days she doesn’t remember me. “It’s me, Delaney.”
“Delaney…” Her forehead creases, and her lips purse. I suspect she’s struggling to figure out whether she knows me. I try not to let it bother me when it’s clear she doesn’t. That has been one of the most difficult things so far—when she got to where she forgets me more often than she remembers me.
All right, clear that negative energy out of your mind while you’re here. Got it?
I try hard to do so and hope like heck I’ve succeeded. Mom doesn’t need any negativity or anger around her.
“How about I heat these mashed potatoes and maybe the carrots and see if you like them?”
I don’t wait for an answer before I pick up her plate and walk it over to the microwave. I use the time it takes for the food to heat to take a couple of deep breaths.
When I get back to the table, I feed Mom. She’s to the point now that she can feed herself if there are finger foods, but manipulating utensils is something she can’t do well anymore. On top of that, she needs someone to cue her to eat. Otherwise, it’s almost like she forgets she’s supposed to do so.
As I wait for her to chew and swallow between bites, I take in her disheveled appearance. Her unbrushed hair is greasy, and she’s in the same long-sleeved T-shirt she had on yesterday. I glance down at her pants. At least those are different.
When she’s eaten all of her mashed potatoes and about half of the carrots, her interest in the meal wanes. I place the silverware on the tray and move it away from her, then hold her water cup up to her mouth and help her take a drink.
