“Nothing.” Her expression softens. “That’s the hard part. It’s the disease.”
“But yesterday was so good,” I say.
It’s a stupid thing to latch onto, but I can’t help it.
Yesterday was everything.
Connie nods slowly.
“It was.”
“Then maybe this is temporary, too.”
The look on Connie’s face tells me everything.
“Good days are real, Emmett.” Her voice is gentle. “Bad days are real too.”
There’s a pause, then she adds, “We’ve been seeing more confusion lately—longer episodes. More difficulty finding her way back afterward.”
I stare at the floor. The weight against my chest is nearly unbearable.
Good days don’t mean you’re safe.
Aspen squeezes my arm. “I’m going to go make a call.” She points just down the hallway.
I nod, my attention returning to Connie.
Acting more like the friend she is than my grandmother’s nurse, Connie reaches out, patting my shoulder. “She’s still in there, Emmett.”
“I don’t know how to do this, Connie.”
“Just keep being there for her.”
A call light comes on down the hall, drawing my attention back to Apsen’s back, where she’s leaning against the wall, the phone pressed to her ear.
“I better get back in there,” Connie says, giving me a sad smile.
“Hey, Connie.”
She turns, one hand on the door, finding me over her shoulder.
“Thank you.”
Then she leaves me to go back where she’s needed.
I step back from the door, resting against the opposite wall.
When I can stand the thoughts swirling in my own head, I look for Aspen and find her still on the phone.
I don’t mean to listen as I approach her from behind, but the hall is quiet.
“Hey.”
A pause.
“No, I know.”
Another pause.
