He tapped the tines of his fork against his empty plate.
“It’s awful. Just a fucking awful disease. I’m terrified of it happening to me one day. But all of her doctors and nurses were incredible. Compassionate and calm, even when she’d get into these rages. I’m still not sure if I could work full-time in an memory care unit, because it’s…a lot. It was helpful, though, being on the other side during my clinicals—the helping side, not just the sit-in-a-chair-and-wait-for-someone-to-get-sicker side, you know?”
Alexei wanted to say:I don’t. You are incredible.
But after a pause, for some reason, what ended up dropping out of his mouth instead was: “That’s one thing I worry about, with my parents.”
Ben looked up in surprise.
“You have a history of Alzheimer’s in your family, too?”
“N-no, I…”Whyhad Alexei brought up his parents? “Just…if they get sick, in general. Or if something happens to them. It feels weird that…I might not know.”
“Oh,” Ben said softly. “That’s hard, Lex.”
“I mean”—Alexei winced—“that was a little dramatic. Sorry. Probably I’ll know, because Alina will tell me. But like…if they were in the hospital for one reason or another…would they want me to come visit them?”
Ben was quiet a moment, spinning the base of his now-empty margarita glass.
“And you would want to visit them?” he asked carefully.
“Of course,” Alexei answered immediately.
Ben only nodded, and Alexei was grateful.
Maybe if Alexei had grown up in a different type of family, in a different kind of world, this whole process would have been easier. But for Alexei’s entire life, it had been drilled into him. There were only two things that mattered: family and faith. Without them, he was a drifting ship at sea. And Alexei liked sturdiness. He was trying to be hopeful about the future, his new plans. But in the deepest parts of himself, he simply didn’t want to be out on these riotous waters at all.
He knew Ben didn’t get it, the fact that Alexei couldn’t make himself fully hate his parents. Maybe no one would ever get it, because it was probably the wrong thing to feel. Alexei didn’t know, at this point, if he knew how to properly feel anything.
“Sorry,” Alexei said. “I feel like I made everything heavy.”
Ben shook his head. “Nah, Lex. I believe I was the one who brought up fun topics like my insecurity about my future career and the joys of Alzheimer’s, so I think we’re even.” He pushed his empty plate to the side. “Okay, no more family talk. Do you want to try another drink? Or are you ready to get out of here?”
A group of teenagers entered the restaurant, brash and bustling.
“Another drink,” Alexei heard himself saying.
“Something new? I feel confident you’ve got a handle on margaritas now.”
Alexei shrugged. His body felt loose and jangly.Please shrug like that all the time, it’s fun, he felt his shoulders say.
“Hey, Izzy?” Ben called to the waitress as she walked by. Because of course Ben remembered her name. “Do you think the bartender could make us a Malibu Bay Breeze?”
Izzy smiled, nodded, kept walking.
“What’s a Malibu Bay Breeze?” Alexei asked.
“Sunshine and summer and happiness. And rum.”
And when Izzy handed it to him, Alexei learned Ben was, again, absolutely correct.
“Whoa,” he said.
Ben laughed, and it was bright, just like the sharp, sugary liquid sliding around Alexei’s tongue. It broke apart whatever lingering tension was still at the table, dissolving Alexei’s parents and Alzheimer’s and associate’s degrees, replacing them with the tang of pineapple and cranberry and the sweet space between Ben’s teeth.
“I’m glad you like it. Although I am officially cutting you off after this; three cocktails is plenty, so long as you don’t want to spend your zero day tomorrow with a hangover.”
Alexei wasn’t so sure. Sampling colorful cocktails he’d never tasted before with Ben for the rest of the night sounded like a solid plan to him.
