Chapter Fifty-Five

Aiden

I can’t keep them straight. The nurse has been explaining Mom’s medication changes to me and Evie for the last ten minutes, but I can’t breathe around the knot in my throat, let alone remember any of the goddamn names.

“We’re hoping to see some improvement with the changes, but it’ll be some time before we can tell if they’re having the desired effect,” she explains patiently. Evie nods along attentively as she listens to the potential side effects of the drugs they’re introducing. There’s more talk of treatment plans and expected outcomes. Likelihoods, goals, and timeframes. I hope like hell Eves is absorbing the information better than I am.

“Anything else we should know?” Evie asks, a slight tremble to her voice.

“Not right now. The staff will continue to monitor her and let you know if we continue to see an increase in her symptoms or any reaction to the new meds. We’re here anytime you want to call with questions.” The young nurse looks sympathetic, and her tone is compassionate. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t make any of this easier to hear.

It’s not her fault that her patient isn’t doing well. And it’s not her fault that the patient is my mother. All I can do is fucking sit here and listen to how this attempt to slow the latest bout of symptoms could go wrong or not help at all.

I can feel my pulse in my temple, and I let out a deep breath while stretching my back over the back of my chair, as if moving can somehow expel the anxiety out of my body and get the weight off my lungs.

I catch a glimpse between the blinds of the small office window and notice Bec walking into the unit with a beast of a St. Bernard waddling next to her with a dopey grin on its face and drool hanging from his panting mouth. I watch as she stops to talk with the staff at the nursing station in the common space. Her smile is warm and bright, a beacon calling to my entire body, making me want to sprint out of this office and into her arms.

The nurse she’s speaking with gestures to the office we’re in, and Bec glances in my direction, catching my eyes immediately. Even from a distance, with just her eyes on mine, I feel better. Being near her numbs the pain in my soul. The weight of all this helplessness that’s about to crush me evaporates and I can fucking breathe again.

How do you ever thank someone for being that kind of light in your life?

Bec returns her attention to the staff member, and I realize the two women in the room with me are looking at me expectantly. I clear my throat and sit up straighter. “Sorry. What was that?”

“We’re planning another meeting next month to check in on Mom’s progress. When are you free?” Evie says, the wobble in her voice still noticeable.

We settle on a date and time and leave the office to find Mom and Bec huddled together in the large living space. Mom’s gaze is a little unfocused, a clear sign to me that she’s confused and trying to fit puzzle pieces together like they’ve been soaking in water, the edges soft and crumbling and too hard to hold or mold together.

Bec’s speaking to her softly and petting along the dog’s back as it sits between them. Mom reaches out to pet the animal’s head, and a smile lights up her face when she gets an appreciative lick on the back of her other hand from the gentle giant.

Mom knows—knew—me better than anyone in the world. Raised me, protected me, loved me. I’ve seen that familiar expression of joy on her face more times in my lifetime than I could ever count. When I was younger, Evie and I would draw her pictures to hang on the fridge, I would tell her elaborate details from the school field trips I went on, and I would gush over every detail of the big plays when I had a great game. She gave me the same smile then. So why does it feel like seeing it now might shatter my entire fucking heart?

Sometimes, it feels like she’ll never smile like that again. As if all the smiles I see from now on are from a woman I know better than anyone even though all I’ll be to her is a stranger. She did everything for me. She deserves more. More time than I can give her.

“Before we go over there…Aiden, are you okay? It doesn’t feel like you’re really here right now.” Evie stops me, pulling lightly on my shoulder.

I sigh. “No. I can’t get out of my head with all this shit going on. But what can we do?”

She drops her hand and shrugs, blinking away the tears I know she’s fighting. “What can we do? We love her. We hold her close when we can, and…just hold onto every moment we have together.”

I nod at her, unable to find the right words. My thoughts blur together and I can’t pull anything helpful from the jumble. Instead, I give my sister a hug, and we walk together to join Mom and Bec.

“Who do we have here?” Evie asks, the uncertainty in her voice gone—I’m sure with great effort—to hide any distress she’s feeling from Mom, doing her best to make the most of the time we have today .

“This is Scout. The most handsome coworker I’ve ever had,” Bec answers.

“ Woooow, no loyalty. Brutal. I’m telling Hopper,” Eves jokes.

“Please. Hopper is my most handsome volunteer . Scout is working.”

“Evie darling, it’s been so long. How are you?” Mom asks, reaching out to palm Evie on the cheek.

It hasn’t been long. It’s been an hour.

“Doing great, Mom. Hey, it’s gorgeous outside today. Want to see this dog get into some trouble digging up all the flower beds in the courtyard?”

“Oh, Evelyn. Don’t encourage any bad behavior,” Mom says.

“Mom, I’m the second child. It’s what I live for.” Evie laughs as she reaches down to help Mom stand, loops her elbow with hers, and together they walk out of the doors propped open leading out to the enclosed courtyard. Mom’s eyes meet mine briefly as she passes me, and I can see the confusion again. The lack of recognition.

She’s trying to remember who her first child is. Who I am.

God, get me the fuck out of here.

“Hey, hey…Aiden. It’s okay,” Bec says gently, reaching for my hand and tangling her fingers in mine, stepping closer so she’s standing in front of me, only a few inches between us. “Close your eyes and breathe. Same pace as me.” She takes a few slow breaths, just loud enough for me to hear. I close my eyes and do as she asks.

I never believed any of that stuff worked. I always assumed traditional “coping techniques” were just buzzwords, made up to give people some semblance of control when everything is far beyond it.

Give me something to do, something to focus on—the pitcher’s tendencies, tracking fly balls, diving stops—and I’m good. Ask me to clear my head, remove the distractions, and calm my thoughts? Not in my wheelhouse .

I don’t want to stay in this moment. I want to run screaming from this shitty nightmare and find anything that’ll help me forget the emptiness in Mom’s gaze as she struggled to remember her son. As she struggled to remember me .

But surprisingly, breathing along with Bec does help, enough to keep my feet planted and not sprinting out the doors and away from all this.

Maybe it was the breathing, or maybe it was Bec.

I drop my forehead to hers. “This feels like torture. One minute, she’s here and the next, she’s gone. Somewhere out of reach. I can’t…I can’t stand to watch this.”

“You can. You can until you can’t. Then you step back, live your life, and try again tomorrow. Your mom is here, Aiden. She’s here and she’ll be here for you as much as she can be. It’s a bad day, but that doesn’t mean tomorrow will be too.”

“What happens when all we have left are the bad days?” I immediately hate myself for asking, giving voice to the fear that crawls up my spine and lingers at the base of my skull, pounding throughout my limbs every fucking day.

Bec’s eyes flutter back and forth between mine, and her palm finds my chest, stalling right over my heart. Her voice sounding sure, she says, “If that day comes, I’ll be here.”

Something settles in my heart, the panic temporarily subsiding. The permanence Bec’s alluding to strengthens my resolve even though there isn’t a solution, only comfort. Comfort she’s offering not just today but in the future. It’s enough. Having her with me is more than enough.

I pull her close, breathing her in, and decide those breathing exercises aren’t bullshit after all.