“What’s a police procedural?” Mum asked after taking her seat again.
Shit. She’d loved those shows all her life.
I flashed to Amy’s face, but Mum’s question hadn’t sparked suspicion.
“Sorry, industry lingo, Mum,” Amy said. “It’s what you watch on the telly, likeVeraorInspector Morse.”
I sat back down next to Mum, my hand on her shoulder, and it seemed to calm her.
“It’s a small but recurring role of a constable on a crime team,” Amy said. “My agent says if I make an impression, they could beef up the part. So I have to put in all my effort. Also, I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure. I have some more news. I’m down to the final two for this play. It’s not Southbank, but still, it’s a popular theater.”
I reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “It’s all coming together, Amy. I’m so happy for you. All your hard work is paying off.”
We talked about the play and the details of the show and what she was getting up to in London until we’d finished our dinner. I tried to keep her chatting so she wouldn’t ask Mum too many questions.
“You two sit down on the back porch and catch up,” Mum said. “It’s still quite warm outside. I’ll stack the dishwasher.”
“Mum, I haven’t heard much about you and what you’ve been up to,” Amy protested. Mum responded by good-naturedly shooing her out.
I persuaded Amy to let Mum do the dishes. In the past, I would have felt guilty about letting Mum do the work, but since her memory was going, she got a lot out of doing small domestic tasks that had been so easy in the past. Besides, I could feel that Amy wanted to talk about Mum, and I couldn’t put it off any longer.
What was my plan here? Should I downplay Mum’s dementia? Was I considering directly lying to Amy? The back porch was the only place we could be private as Mum’s flat was so tiny, and I could watch her in the kitchen through the sliding door.
We got ourselves settled, and I felt guilty as I closed the sliding door completely. Amy tapped me on the arm and leanedin closer. “I like Macy and Stacy, but Mum says it feels like they’re here all the time.” She was almost whispering, as though Mum could hear us through the glass.
Normally, I’d inwardly chuckle at hearing Mum’s carers’ names together like that, but I was too worried about where Ames was going with this.
“Well, Mum gets lonely. Now she’s retired, she has the whole day stretching out in front of her. She was always so busy working, and I guess we never noticed she doesn’t really have any hobbies except for swimming. And now, I’m gone all day and all night and weekends too. Her old workmates pop over, but they still have their jobs and their families. The sisters are like companions to her during the day. They’re so sweet to her.” My explanation was the partial truth, at least. Still, my chest roiled with guilt.
“But she’s not like us, Tim. She’s not that social. Besides her work and swim friends, she never sought out new people. She loves her independence and is happy with her own company.”
“I know, Amy, but I feel like she needs a boost at the moment.”
“So, you’re saying she’s a bit down?” She slumped. “Maybe she’s lonely. Maybe she misses Dad. Do you think? It’s only been two years.” Her eyes pooled. “I know I still miss him like crazy. Something good happens, or even something bad, and I just want to pick up the phone and tell him first. He was such a good listener, and he always knew the right thing to say to make you feel better.”
She wasn’t wrong. Our father hadn’t been perfect—no one was—but he’d made sure we all felt secure in how much we were loved. I knew that was a rare trait in a man of his generation.
“I miss him too, Ames.” I felt an intense pressure at the backs of my eyes, and I started to tear up. In the last days of hisillness, when he’d asked me to look after Mum and Amy after he was gone, I’d told him I’d do everything he would have done. And now, after this show, everything would be settled. “Hey. The show’s over in six weeks. Maybe I’ll bring Mum down to visit you in London.”
“I would love that. But, Tim, coming here tonight, I feel horribly guilty. You’re doing everything. And I’m worried it’s driving you a bit bonkers and you’re morphing into sensitive emo boy.” She reached up and ruffled my hair. “Next, you’ll be dyeing your hair black and wearing eyeliner.” She was diverted, which was a relief.
“Tim, honey.” Mum opened the sliding door. “I did your laundry. It’s all folded too.”
Amy grinned. “Oh, now I see the perks.”
I wasn’t out of the woods. Mum could give away that I lived here.
“Thanks, Mum, just leave it there.”
Please don’t take it to my room.
“I’ll leave it on your bed,” she called.
Oh shit. I kept my head down, waiting. She was gone a while, and it was obvious she was putting away my clothes in my old room.
“Wait.” Amy’s forehead pinched a question. “You’re living here?”
I shrugged, trying to be casual. “Yeah, I’m renting out my place for a while.”
