by Syndi Powell
“Zach, it’s April. Did I wake you?” She glanced at the clock on her DVD player. It was three in the afternoon. “Are you okay?”
“Just a sec.”
April waited for a few minutes, then he was back on the other end of the phone. “I had to go in and check on my mom.”
“How’s she doing?” She hated to hear how exhausted he sounded. His voice soft and plaintive. His speech slow.
“Better. She’s sleeping.”
“How are you doing?”
There was a pause. “Why did you call me?”
Best to get to the point, she guessed. “I heard from my doctor, and I’m okay. It’s not cancer.”
“That’s excellent, April. I’m happy for you.”
She thought about what she was going to say, then just plowed through it. “I didn’t mean to upset you about the care you’re giving your mom. You’re doing your best, really. I’m just worried that it’s not enough.”
“You’re right, it isn’t. But I’m not sure what to do next.” He took a deep breath. “I take that back. I do know, I just don’t want to do it.”
“I can suggest some things, if you’ll let me. I know people.”
“I know you do.” He yawned, and the silence stretched between them. Finally, he said in a soft whisper, “I miss you.”
She smiled at this. “I miss you, too.”
There was a sound in the background. “I have to go. Talk to you later.”
And then he was gone. She looked at the phone and sighed. It was a start.
* * *
APRIL TOOK HER bike out of the garage and walked with it to the end of her driveway. She straddled it, sat up in the seat and pushed off. Pedaling past a few driveways, she had the bike making jerky movements until she found her sweet spot and darted down the road toward the hospital. She had a moment or two where the proximity of the cars to her felt a little too close for comfort, but she made it to the parking lot and arrived at work with time to spare.
She locked her bike in the racks near the entrance to the hospital and removed her helmet before heading into the emergency room. Janet waved from the reception desk. “Nice bike.”
“Thanks.”
April glanced at the duty roster on the nurse’s computer and made notes of the staff who’d be alongside her in the department that day. She entered the locker room to store her possessions and hang up her coat. She found Kenny, a night shift doctor, resting on the sofa. He stood and greeted her with open arms. “It’s been a full moon kind of night. I’m so happy you’re here because I am going home and falling into bed for the next several hours.”
“Appreciate that, Kenny.”
“Two more weeks, and we get to switch. I’m counting down the seconds.” He handed her his tablet. “Waiting on test results for two of the exam rooms. Broken jaw in trauma four waiting to be wired. And I ordered a psych consult for trauma one.”
“Sounds like fun.”
Kenny chuckled. “You have no idea.” He went to his locker and removed his jacket. “See you tomorrow.”
“Enjoy your day.”
He waved as he left the lounge. She opened her locker and hung her coat and placed her things inside. She removed her stethoscope and wound it around her neck, then put the light blue cap on over her hair. She was ready for the day and whatever it would bring.
As she stepped outside the locker room doors, she was accosted by a paramedic wheeling a man on a gurney into the closest available trauma room. Three hours passed before she had a break. She took a seat next to Janet and put her feet up on the reception desk. “Is your sister still director at that memory care nursing home?”
“Liz?” She nodded. “They’ve been pretty full for a while. Why? You know someone looking?”
“The mother of a friend has Alzheimer’s.”
Janet gave a look. “Mrs. Harrison? Things are getting bad with her. I was here both times when they brought her in. And the son, your friend? He’s taking a lot of abuse.”
“I’m worried about him.”
“You should be. He seemed like a man on the edge. I’m just worried about what it might take to push him over.”
“Me, too.”
Janet took out her phone, pressed a button and handed it to April. “Liz’s personal cell. You might want to check with her to see if she has room.”
The phone rang and a woman answered. April nodded to Janet, then took the phone to the staff lounge, where it was quieter. She explained Zach’s situation and asked Liz if she had space for his mom. “Unfortunately, there’s a waiting list. Has your friend consulted a doctor regarding her care?”
“He’s relying on a doctor who doesn’t seem to be giving him the best advice.” She told her about the two emergency room visits. “Her aggression is increasing, and the medication she’s been prescribed isn’t helping. My friend is getting frustrated.”
“Understandable. I do know of a new facility that has space not far from Detroit General. I can give you the number if you’d like. In the meantime, we can set up an appointment for you and your friend to visit us. Get his mom’s name on the waiting list.”
April took down the information and thanked Liz, promising to have Zach reach out to set up a meeting. She returned to Janet’s desk and handed her the phone. “You were right. She doesn’t have room, but I have another place Zach can check out for now.”
“Will he follow through on it?”
“He will when he’s desperate enough.”
Janet murmured, “How much worse does it have to get?”
* * *
ZACH STARTLED AT the knock on the door. He’d fallen asleep again in the recliner next to his mom’s bed. She sat, watching Judge Judy. He patted her on the shoulder reassuringly before leaving the bedroom. At the back door was April, a hand on an orange-sherbet-colored bike. It suited her. “Hey.”
She dug into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Some names of places and phone numbers for memory care facilities nearby. The top one has a waiting list, but the second one is taking patients.”
Oh. He opened the paper and nodded at the information. “Thanks.”
“Spaces are limited, so you’ll want to check them out soon.” She turned and started to straddle her bike.
He stepped forward and put a hand on the handlebars. “Do you have to go?”
“I’m meeting my friends for dinner. Have to get home and change. Page starts chemo tomorrow.” She adjusted the helmet on her head. “If you need someone to go with you, let me know and I can check my schedule. Or ask your grandmother. You won’t want to go by yourself because it can overwhelm you. It’s better to have someone with you.”
“Thanks.”
She nodded and took a deep breath before boosting herself up onto the seat, but he still had his hand on the handlebars. The bike swayed, and she crashed into him. He caught her in his arms and looked down at her sweet face. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he thought about how nice it would be to be able to kiss her. Instead, he got her back on her feet. “You don’t want to be late for your dinner.”
She blushed. “Thanks. Good night.”
He watched as she coasted down his driveway and turned right to bike to her house two streets over.
Returning to his mom’s bedroom, he found the program had ended, and the news had started. He turned the channel to a rerun of an old sitcom since the real world tended to upset his mom. She wrinkled her nose. “I’m bored with television.”
Zach cringed, not wanting to hear what she was about to propose. “What would you rather do?”
“I want to go out. Your friend had a bike. Can I get a bike?”
The thought of her trying to ride a bike and getting lost in the neighborhood made him shudder. “Not right now. Are you hungry?”
She looked away from him. “I ne
ver get to go anywhere. You lock me inside this house, and I always stay home.”
“Do you want to go for a drive?” At least, he could control where she was in that scenario.
“I want to go shopping.”
“No.”
She pouted. “We never do anything.”
“Because you’re sick, Mom. I can’t take you anywhere without worrying about you getting lost or upset. No, we can either go for a drive, or we can stay here.”
“You’re so mean.”
“I know.” He put his hands on his hips. “So what’s it going to be?”
“It’s getting dark. Your father will be home soon, and he’ll take me out somewhere nice.” She pointed to her stained top. “I better change.” She stood and walked to her closet and opened the door, peering inside at the few things that still hung on hangers. “What happened to my other clothes?”
“You took them out and ripped them.”
“I can’t go anywhere like this. I need some nice clothes.” She chose a white blouse. “Thank goodness this goes with anything. But I don’t have a skirt to match. Your father likes it when I show off my legs.”
The conversation made him tired and sad. He tried to change its direction. “We have leftover lasagna for dinner.”
She returned to her bed and sat on the edge. “He’s not coming home, is he?”
“He hasn’t for over twenty years, Mom. He’s never coming home again.” Zach went and put an arm around her shoulders as she started to cry. “But you have me. I won’t leave you. Not ever.”
She reached up and touched his cheek. “You’re a good son.”
But he wasn’t. Because he was about to break his promise. He fingered the note in his jeans pocket that April had given him. It was time to find a home for his mother, and a good son wouldn’t be looking forward to some freedom and peace.
* * *
APRIL ENTERED THE pizzeria and scanned the dining room for her friends. Sherri was there, waving. Page must not have arrived yet. April hugged Sherri at the table before removing her jacket and hanging it along with her purse over her chair. “Page is probably running late.”
Sherri handed her a menu. “It’s her habit.”
“I’ve tried to break her out of it. Even told her an earlier time to arrive so she’d be on time, but she still shows up late. I don’t get it.”
Page breezed in the front door and joined them at the table. “I swear, traffic has a vendetta against me. A clear road will suddenly fill with cars when I turn onto it.”
“It’s not traffic, it’s you,” April insisted, smiling.
She handed a menu to her friend, but Page waved it away. “I already know what I want. And just to warn you both, there’s going to be a lot of food on this table and we’re going to enjoy every bite. No worrying about calories or fat content or carbs. I don’t know when I’ll have an appetite after tonight.”
The waitress came, and they deferred to Page’s wishes as she ordered two kinds of pizza, wings with blue cheese dressing on the side, garlic bread sticks and, finally, the deluxe salad topped with extra croutons. April smirked at this until Page shrugged. “Gotta have something green.”
“The green peppers on the pizza don’t count?” April teased.
“I like their salads, so sue me.” She gave the menus to the waitress, who disappeared to put in their order.
Sherri produced a teal gift bag and handed it to Page. “It’s not quite what the two of you gave me when I was starting chemo. But I thought you deserved to have some good things while you’re going through it.”
Page shook her head. “You didn’t need to do that, but thank you.” She pulled out fuzzy socks, lip balm, hand lotion and peppermint hard candies. “All of these will definitely come in handy.”
April passed her a thin gift in black-and-white-decorated paper, tied with a turquoise ribbon. “You can probably guess what this is.”
Page unwrapped the journal and sighed. “Really? Writing my thoughts didn’t help me get through it the last time.”
“Because you didn’t actually write any. You carried the journal with you, but I’m betting it’s still blank.” She opened to the first page, where she’d written her own message to encourage Page. “I started it for you this time.”
“Are you going to give me the whole ‘chemo is what you make of it’ speech?” Page flipped through the pages of the journal, then placed it on the table between them and grabbed April’s hand. “I know what to expect this time. I know that a positive attitude will affect how I handle it, but I don’t want to hear your happy, happy mumbo jumbo tonight, okay? Let’s just eat and talk about something besides cancer.”
April watched Page as Sherri launched into a work story about how she and her new partner with Border Patrol had taken down a computer hacker who had been selling personal credit card information to an international cartel. Page made the appropriate comments and gestures, but April could see she was only going through the motions. She knew her friend well enough to realize that as much as she told them not to talk about cancer, it consumed her thoughts. The waitress started delivering their food, and they filled their plates and chatted while they ate.
When Sherri left the table to go to the restroom, April turned to Page. “What is it you’re not saying?” Page drank some of her water instead of answering, so April narrowed her brows at her. “What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing.”
April cocked her head to the side and stared at her friend. “Is it Chad? So help me if that jerk is making things worse for you.” Page’s ex-husband had the nasty habit of popping back into her life at the worst times. Cancer couldn’t be any worse.
“I haven’t heard from him in months.”
“Your mother?”
“She won’t be going with me this round. Told me she’s had enough of hospitals to last a lifetime. That if I would accept my mortality, I wouldn’t fight against my body so much.”
“Nice. But she’s not the reason your eyes and nose are red. And don’t say it’s just allergies.”
Page picked slowly at the toppings on her pizza. “I always thought I’d be a mom, and now I’m never going to have a baby. And with my history of cancer, it’s not like an adoption agency is going to approve me.”
“Didn’t you discuss with your doctor about having your eggs frozen beforehand?”
“My ovaries are damaged from the chemotherapy I’ve already had. Even if I didn’t have cancer, it wouldn’t be an option. I should have done that three years ago when I first got diagnosed with breast cancer, but I didn’t think of it. I didn’t know what would happen. And now it’s too late.”
“Don’t say that. If you feel that you’re supposed to be a mother, then you will be. Maybe not in the way you expect, but it will happen. I know it.”
“I wish I had your faith, but the truth is things like that don’t happen to me.”
“Don’t be such a cynic. That’s not going to help you.”
Sherri returned to the table, and Page gave a quick shake of her head that tabled the conversation. Page changed topics and asked Sherri about how marriage was treating her.
At the end of the meal, April paid the bill and waved off her friends’ offers to help. “My treat. You guys can get the next time.”
“Considering that I’ll be eating crackers and drinking ginger ale for the next few months, I doubt that I’ll be treating anytime soon,” Page said.
April put an arm around Page’s shoulders. “You never know. You could breeze through chemo. Third time’s the charm, right?”
Page rolled her eyes, but laughed. “We’ll see.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE ADMINISTRATOR OF the second care facility they visited ushered them to her office. Zach took a seat and Nonna the other. He’d called April to ask her to stay with his mother w
hile they toured the place.
He’d been impressed by the outside of the building as they had walked up to the entrance. It was well kept, bright and cheery, painted in a sunny yellow that reminded him of April’s house. Piped-in music played over the speakers in the lobby, a jazzy number that made him want to snap his fingers. Bright colors popped everywhere as they approached the administrator’s office, and an aroma of something floral wafted throughout. It was an explosion on his senses.
Zach shifted in the chair, uneasy to be there. Okay, so he reminded himself that he needed to see if this home would be a fit for his mother. Holly Fields, the administrator, cleared her throat and spoke in a kind, but firm manner. “Sunny Meadows is a full-service facility with a special wing for our memory care patients like your mother. We provide treatment for the patient, of course, but also have classes and counseling for family members. We know that placing your parent in a facility is not an easy decision, and we strive to make things easier. To give you peace of mind.”
Sounded good so far. He leaned forward in his chair. “My mother has early-onset Alzheimer’s. Had it for years, and she’s becoming angry and violent. Is your staff equipped to handle her outbursts?”
“We have patients all along the spectrum of dementia, so I can assure you that we understand the different needs of each patient. Those outbursts might be due to a drug reaction or something deeper going on. We have doctors and nurses who can recommend treatment based on your mother’s issues.” Holly raised an eyebrow, inviting any more questions. She handed a brochure to each of them. “Most of the answers to your questions can be found in here, but I’m more than happy to address them. I’ve arranged a tour of our facility with my activity coordinator, Mary.” Holly gestured to a young woman standing just outside the doorway. “You can explore, then have lunch with some of our residents, if you’d like. We’ll end the tour in my office, where we can talk logistics.”
Like how much a place like this would cost. Luckily, Zach had been blessed in his career and could afford the best for his mother. He stood and helped his grandmother to her feet. Mary pulled her long black hair over one shoulder as she ushered them out of the office. “I’m the activity coordinator, which means I’m responsible for the social well-being of our patients. I arrange game nights, classes and outings to fulfill the residents’ needs for connection. We also encourage our families to join their loved ones in the activities.”