The burnished oak door flew open so fast that I took a step back. I was greeted by a face that would have been pretty if it hadn’t been flushed by such fury. The teen girl in the green bikini scanned me with a pair of angry eyes before looking past me to my truck in the driveway. I could see tiny amber flecks in her bright green eyes that seemed to vibrate with the same energy that fed the corona of wiry, reddish-brown hair framing her face.
“Where’s Cooper?” she demanded.
“I have no idea. I’m Paul.”
She met my eyes for a long moment in a gaze that was both fearless and somehow familiar. When I looked away, she spun on her heel—leaving me to stare at the long, polished wood floor of the front hallway she disappeared from. She may have lacked manners, but there was nothing wrong with her lungs. I heard her bellow clearly from wherever she’d disappeared to, “Mom!”
Kim appeared a moment later. When she set down the basket of laundry she cradled, I could see that she hadn’t added an ounce to her lean runner’s body. Outfitted in carefully coordinated teal shorts, ball cap, and teal-trimmed white sneakers, it looked like she was ready to pound the pavement again soon. There were tiny new crow’s feet at the edges of her eyes, but they only served to make the rest of her face look younger by contrast. I watched a range of emotions flash across it as she raised a hand to tuck a lock of her blond bob behind an ear, a signature gesture that instantly brought back the girl I grew up with. Then she moved in for an awkward hug—hard but quick, the release coming too fast for me to even consider returning it.
“You met Aida?” she asked.
“Sort of.”
“Sorry. She’s sixteen and going through a phase. It started about ten years ago.”
“Sixteen,” I said softly, staring down the hallway at the spot my niece had disappeared from. In my mind, Aida was frozen as the young girl I’d met only a handful of times years before.
“I like the beard,” Kim said, breaking the spell. “Very park ranger.”
“It’s just easier. One less thing to take care of before I wrestle bears all day.”
“You have bears there now?” she said, a crease wrinkling her forehead.
I laughed. “We do, but they’re pretty shy.”
I saw half of a body appear from the doorway down the hall. Kim turned to follow my gaze.
“Aaron,” she said, “come here.”
The boy was younger than his sister, maybe twelve or thirteen. He wore a huge blue T-shirt that came down to his knees. A trail of wet footprints traced his path as he made his way down the hall toward me. He looked soft and heavy, and the dark eyes behind glasses in his round, white face looked everywhere but into mine.
“Say hello to your uncle Paul,” Kim said.
When he mumbled his greeting, I caught a flash of silver braces on his teeth. I stuck out my hand. He put his out but left it hovering in the air. I grabbed it and gave a gentle shake.
“How’s the water?” I asked.
When his eyes finally found mine, I glimpsed the brain working behind them.
“The pH is low: 6.2. Borax would raise it, but Dad won’t let me put it in.”
Kim gave a patient smile. “Is Gram still napping?” she asked.
“She’s out by the pool.”
Kim’s smile disappeared. “Alone?”
“No. Aida’s there, but I don’t think she needs to be. Gram doesn’t need a babysitter, Mom. I think she’s stage four, tops, maybe only three. She can take care of herself.”
Kim sighed and shook her head before she answered.
“Aaron, have you seen the kitchen? The entire wall is black. She left a skillet of grease on a red-hot burner to answer a doorbell that never rang. I’m still finding patches of fire extinguisher foam to clean up.”
Aaron studied the floor and scratched his chin before looking up at his mother.
“True, but a single cognitive lapse isn’t proof that her disease has progressed to the point where she presents a danger to herself, or to us.”
“Yeah well, thanks, Dr. Fell, but I’d rather err on the side of caution before we find ourselves camped out at the Days Inn.”
“Dad would never stay at a two-star.”
“I give up,” said Kim with a small laugh. “Go help your uncle with his bags.”
“This is it,” I said, raising the small duffel in my hand.
“Well, then,” Kim said, “let’s go see Mom.”
She led me down the hallway and through a large living room that had the same perfectly composed look I’d found in the furniture on the front porch. The scene was marred, however, by the sharp tang of stale smoke in the air. Kim opened the spotless French doors at the far end of the room, and we stepped out on the wide apron of an Olympic-size pool. I followed her toward a chaise lounge pulled up to one side. Aida was chattering on her cell phone beside it. She got up when she saw us coming and walked around to the far side of the pool.
I stopped beside the chaise and looked down at my mother. Her small body appeared tan against her simple blue swimsuit, a bit rounder, but still fairly trim for a seventy-year-old woman. Her suit was dry, but that was no surprise; to my knowledge, she still hadn’t learned to swim.
I didn’t recognize the pure white head of hair above her sunglasses, but there was no mistaking the small nose and slightly puckish pair of lips beneath them. She must have been asleep. When Kim patted her leg, her body gave a jolt.
“Mom,” Kim said softly, “we’ve got company.”
I was standing with my back to the setting sun. Mara took her sunglasses off, shutting her eyes against the light, then raised a palm to shade her view while she took me in. A bright flash of green drew my attention to the emerald ring I’d seen on the third finger of her left hand for my entire life. I was looking at the empty space under it where her gold wedding band used to be, when she answered my sister.
“That’s not company,” Mara said softly. “That’s my Paul.”
7
Bargain for Time
Kim served dinner by the pool while I caught up with my mother. The conversation was pretty one-sided. Every time I asked about her, she steered our talk back to me, peppering me with questions about my work in the park as Kim waited on us.
Throughout the meal, Aida popped up from the table again and again, buzzing around like an angry hornet as she called one friend after another to locate her boyfriend, Cooper. When the doorbell finally rang, I saw Kim and Mara exchange a quick glance. Mara excused herself to go to bed while Aaron went off to do his homework. Kim ushered me into the kitchen to dodge the coming storm.
Aida led her shaggy, six-foot-tall boyfriend, Cooper, to the pool before she unloaded on him, but the thick walls of the Turner manse couldn’t completely muffle the tongue-lashing that raged outside.
“Wow,” I said softly after one particularly explosive fusillade.
“God bless Pandora,” said Kim, as she punched a button on the wall. The soft strains of classical piano music drifted from hidden speakers to displace the muted racket outside. I grabbed a dishtowel and started drying the pots and pans in the drainer while Kim rinsed plates and loaded the dishwasher. I looked out the window to take in the view by the pool as I worked. Cooper stared wide-eyed in profile as Aida laid into him, throwing her hands in the air, stamping her foot, and jabbing her finger into the middle of his broad chest. Kim looked up, laughing as she followed my gaze.
“I’m sorry,” she said, still chuckling. “It’s not funny; it’s just that it’s kind of a relief to have her unload on someone else for a change.”
“You and Robert catch that kind of heat?”
“She saves it all for me, although Aaron gets his fair share too. She’s usually sweet as pie to Daddy. And when she does get mad at Robert, she just goes cold, which seems to be happening a lot lately. Of course, he’s working more hours than ever, so she might just be pissed about that. His dad’s still at the company, but Robert’s the one who really runs it these days. He ju
st texted me to say he’s crashing at the company apartment in Boston tonight. Another Capatello crisis.”
“What’s Capatello?”
“Sorry. Not what, who. He picked up a new client a year ago, Capatello Coach. Aldo Capatello runs a limo service out of Boston. The guy’s loaded, but he’s cheap. He uses his wife as his secretary, and from what I hear, Eva Capatello’s not too pleased about it. Anyway, he seems to think his fee includes 24/7 access to my husband.”
“Guess it comes with the territory.”
“Aldo seems to think so. Unfortunately, I’m not sure Robert does much to convince him otherwise. I keep hoping that if Aida keeps retreating from him, he’ll get the message and stop answering Capatello’s calls after hours.”
“Does Aida ever go after Mara?”
“Never. Somehow, believe it or not, her Gram can do no wrong. I’ve never heard Aida utter a single cross word to her.”
I put down the fry pan I’d finished and lifted a colander from the drainer, eyeing the scorched wall behind it before I spoke. “Maybe Aaron’s right about Mara,” I said. “She still seems pretty sharp to me.”
Kim dropped her hands in the sink and turned to look at me. “She’s sharp all right. Sharp enough to fool you, and most others, about what she’s losing. Maybe she’s even fooling herself. But she’s not fooling me. Notice anything unusual about the conversation you just had?”
I thought for a moment. “Only that she was pretty quiet.”
“Exactly. The less she says, the less chance she has of making a mistake. But I’ve caught them—the long pauses for words she can’t find, the U-turns in hallways when she’s forgotten where she was going. She went out for a walk a few weeks ago and came home almost two hours later, soaked in sweat. When I asked her about it, she laughed and said she’d gone off to check out some other neighborhoods. She tried to hide it, but I could tell she was upset. She wasn’t exploring. She was lost.”
I followed her gaze out the window. Evidently, the storm had passed. Aida and Cooper sat on the edge of the pool with their legs dangling in. The boy had one long arm draped around her, speaking into her ear as she stared across the ripples their feet made in the aquamarine water. Kim poured a couple of cups of coffee for us and we moved to the small, round table in the corner.
“What does her doctor say?” I asked.
“She put her on Aricept, but at best it’ll delay symptoms for a year, and only in about half of those who take it. She also says she thinks Mom’s disease has a particularly fast rate of progression.”
“Just like Nanna,” I said.
“Just like Nanna,” Kim echoed. She poured a measure of cream in her coffee cup and began swirling it with her spoon. “I know that’s what she’s afraid of most. She saw how fast her own mother went and what little was left of her at the end. She’s scared to death she’ll go exactly the same way. I am too.” I didn’t bother asking if Kim was worried about our mother or herself. I knew the answer had to be both.
“Of course I’m ready to chip in,” I said. “Whether we get someone in or find a place that can care for her.”
Kim banged her spoon sharply on the edge of her cup and let it fall to the table.
“I guess that’d be easier for you, wouldn’t it, Paul? Throw money at all of this to make it go away. God forbid you spend any time with her, or with us for that matter.”
I stayed silent. The only sound in the room was the hum of the huge stainless steel refrigerator and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall.
“I’m sorry,” Kim said, putting her hand on my arm. “I didn’t call you down here to fight.”
“Why did you call?”
“Because you’re right, it’s time to get some help, but bringing someone in isn’t a permanent solution. Never mind the strain having her here’s putting on my marriage. Eventually, she’ll need to be in a place with specialized care. I don’t think it’s fair to just dump her there when things get to that point, though. I want her to have a say about where she goes while she still has the power. I need your help talking to her about visiting some memory care facilities.”
The ticking of the clock in the hall got louder as I considered how to respond. Finally, I interrupted it with a laugh.
“What could possibly be funny?” Kim asked.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I just thought how much sense it makes for me to be the one to have that conversation with her.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because there’s absolutely no way my relationship with our mother could get any worse.”
***
For an old woman, Mara moved pretty fast. Every time I tried to corner her the next morning, she found another reason to leave the room. I’d been up for hours, seeing the kids off to school and assuring Kim I could handle our mother while she went for a long run. The job turned out to be as big as the house. When I finished washing up our breakfast dishes, I found that Mara had disappeared from the kitchen. I crept upstairs and heard the shower running, so I went down to wait by the pool. A half hour later, I followed the sound of the TV to the den, but when I came in, she excused herself to use the bathroom. I finally went to check on her upstairs, then looked out the bathroom window to see her bent over her needlepoint in the chaise longue by the pool. I was just coming down the stairs when Kim came through the front door, her face pink and covered with a thin sheen of sweat.
“Good workout?” I asked.
“A double, almost ten miles.”
“Yeah, well, I had one of my own. I just found Mara. She’s been playing hide-and-seek with me all morning.”
Kim laughed. “She does that when she wants to be left alone. C’mon, she won’t be able to escape both of us.”
We detoured through the kitchen so Kim could grab a water bottle from the fridge, then headed toward the pool. Mara kept her eyes on her needlework. I looked down to study the colorful geometric pattern she was just completing.
“Looks beautiful,” I said.
“Practice makes perfect,” she answered, still not looking up. I caught an eye roll from Kim. I couldn’t blame her. We must have heard that tired old aphorism from our mother a thousand times growing up.
“I haven’t lost all my marbles yet,” Mara continued. This time she did look up and fixed her gaze on me. “I know why you’re here.” Kim and I sat down beside her.
“Why’s that, Mara?” I asked.
“Because you think it’s time to put me away.” She bent back over the small square of canvas in her lap, stabbing at it with her needle.
“Mom, can you put that down?” Kim asked. “Nobody’s going away.”
Mara looked up and dropped her hands in her lap. “So why the visit?” she said to me. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you. Now, two days after I set the kitchen on fire, you just happen to show up?”
“I came because I’m concerned about you.”
“Thanks for dropping by. I’m fine. I’ll look forward to your card at Christmas.”
Kim and I looked at each other. I decided to try another tack.
“You’re not the only one who’s scared about your disease, Mara.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t have early onset, Paul. That’s the type with the high genetic risk factor you’d have to worry about.”
“There’s still a risk with late onset too,” I said. I didn’t have to mention Nanna.
Mara pulled at one ear. Suddenly, I was five years old again, tensing as I recognized her telltale gesture of anger. “What’s your point?” she asked.
“My point is that as your children, Kim and I share the risk of getting your disease. That makes us particularly sensitive to treating you the same way we’d want to be treated if we were in your shoes.”
I risked a look at Kim and saw her head give a nod. Mara looked down at the fabric in her lap, but she didn’t pick up her needle. She kept her eyes fixed on it when she spoke next.
“And what exactly would you do if you were in
my shoes?”
“Try to live every day to the fullest. And make my own decisions about the future—while I still could.” I looked at Kim.
“Mom,” she said, reaching over to grab Mara’s hand. “We want you to come visit some memory care places with us.”
“You mean nursing homes,” said Mara, her eyes still on her lap.
“No, Mom, I’m talking about top-notch facilities that deliver the very best kind of specialized care. You’ll never end up in a place like Nanna’s.”
Mara kept her eyes down. I held my tongue to let Kim’s words sink in. Mara didn’t respond, but a moment later, I saw the snow-white fabric she held in her hands bloom with the dark stain of a tear.
***
I met my mother in the hallway when we heard Kim get home from church that evening. Mara had changed from the rumpled blouse and shorts she’d worn all day into a navy blue dress and pair of high heels. Her white hair was brushed and pulled back, and she wore makeup and jewelry. She’d done a good job, but I noticed that one earring was missing.
“You look ready for a night on the town,” Kim said with a laugh as she closed the door behind her.
“Nope,” said Mara. “I’m ready for business.”
Mara made her pitch as soon as the three of us were seated in the den. “I’ll go shopping for nursing homes, but there’s something I want first.”
“They’re called memory care facilities, Mom,” Kim said.
“A rose by any other name,” Mara replied.”
“What do you want, Mara?” I asked.
“I want a little of what you’ve got, Paul. I want some time at Kidney Pond.”
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