I can’t stop the muscle in my jaw from ticking. I’d like to think professional help could work miracles, but if that were true, my dad would have been fixed years ago. My grip tightens on the knife’s handle when I mutter, “You can’t know if that would’ve made any difference.”
Mr. Everest looks at me. He squints like he’s just remembered he’s talking to an actual person. “You’re right,” he finally says. “I can’t know for sure. But people can get better, Hunt. It certainly would’ve been worth trying.” He pulls at his collar. “Now, I’ll never find out.”
His words are still sinking in when my phone buzzes. After wiping my hands, I grab it from my back pocket, then push out a breath of relief when I see her name.
Blue: I’m sorry. I need time.
My chest hammers as I scan her text again. She needs time ... to process? Or away from me?
“Everything okay?”
I set the phone down, working my jaw. “That was Blue. You, uh, you were right. She needs time.”
Mr. Everest pushes his chair back, making his way to the living room. He comes back with his phone in his hand, eyes on the screen. “That was her calling me. I’ll be right back.” He stops halfway out the backdoor. “And Hunt.”
“Sir?”
“Do you love her?”
In the middle of chopping celery, I almost slice my damn finger off. I clear my throat. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m going to tell you something I wish I learned a long time ago. Don’t hold back. If you have something to say, say it. Before it’s too late.”
Mr. Everest’s words sit at the forefront of my mind the entire drive to the nursing home. I want to take his advice, but it’s not so easy for someone like me. Someone who has more bad to offer than good. Someone who doesn’t know how to give the girl he wants what she needs.
After parking my truck, I make my way to the entrance, unease weighing down each step.
“Mr. Hunt.” Jenny smiles. “What a surprise.”
I tip my chin at her as I sign in. “Evening, Jenny. How’s she doing?”
“Much better today. Should be back from dinner by now, so feel free to head right in.”
“Thank you.”
My shirt scratches my neck as I walk. I’ve got a fucked-up relationship with this place. Most of the time, seeing my mom is the only thing that keeps me going. Not only have we been the only person each other has for these past few years, but she reminds me why I work as hard as I do; why my daily choices matter so much.
But no one warns you how ugly dementia really is. At first, you think maybe it’ll get better, but it never does. Dementia’s a progressive disease; it only gets worse. And most days, our visits keep me up at night long after I’ve said goodbye.
She’s sitting in her chair staring at the TV when I enter her room. The soft lull of a piano fills every corner, each familiar note holding her attention rapt. My lips quirk as I watch her. She’s always loved Debussy’s “Clair de Lune,” and she used to play it like a boss, but I know of something better.
I walk around her, sliding onto the bench. As soon as I hit the first note, her spine straightens. Within moments, she’s joining me on the bench, and I shut off the TV with the remote before picking right back up where I left off.
“Hey, Jude ...” I sing quietly.
I’m a shit singer, but my mom’s eyes light up at my voice anyway.
“Joshua,” she murmurs, lifting her fingers to the keys. My throat tightens every time she says my name. I never know if today’s gonna be the day she forgets it. “I know this one.”
“Yeah, Mom. You do.”
I track her fingers as they glide over the keys, trying to keep up with mine, and for a while, we’re mother and son.
I realize, right here, this is why. This is the real reason I always stay, even on the days it kills me. The reason behind all others. Because when you love someone, it’s not just you anymore. You do what’s right for them, not you.
Blue
“Ihad no idea we own so many.” I’m not sure if Benji hears me over the sound of his banjo, so I grab another box, flip it over, and watch as more stones scatter over the grass. Picking up one of the larger crystals, I let my palm adjust to the weight of it. “Can you imagine what—?”
