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I knew I was an idiot the minute I left Charlie’s place, but it was my sister. I never said ‘no’ to my sister, even if it meant getting cockblocked by the most beautiful woman I had ever set eyes on.

“This better be good, Lily, because I was incredibly busy with - “

“Nearly getting your rocks off?” she interrupted, cutting me off. I didn’t see her but I could tell she had a doubtful brow and a sassy look on her face. “Mom wanted to talk to you.”

I felt all traces of humor leave my system and I straightened up. “Does she remember?” I rushed over to my car and slid into my driver’s seat, pulling it closed.

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “She asked for you,” came Lily’s slow reply. “I’m not quite sure what that means, exactly. But she asked for you.”

I cleared my throat, my hands clammy as my phone switched over to Bluetooth. I gripped the steering wheel tight even though I had yet to start the car.

“How, uh.” I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “How’s she doing?”

My sister made a grunting sound. “Not better,” she admitted. “But not worse, either. It’s the best that we can hope for, to be honest.” A beat. “Do you want to talk to her?”

I bought myself time by backing out of the driveway. When I turned around, I nodded and then remembered she couldn’t see me.

“Sure,” I said, my voice cracking.

I heard a muffled conversation, then Lily used a voice that she only used for Mom, meaning it was sweet and patient. After a few moments, I heard the familiar voice of my mother.

“Hello?”

My heart cracked. I hadn’t heard my mother’s voice in months. My sister called me every few days to keep me updated and I always sent her money. Lily had to quit her job to take care of our mother full-time. Luckily, Mom’s estate paid her a decent wage, but I always sent back what I could just to be on the safe side. Lily deserved it. It wasn’t as though I was around to help her. She was doing everything on her own. If I could give her some pocket money to go toward books on Amazon, I would be more than happy to do so.

“Hi.” My voice cracked again. It was like I was reliving my junior high days.

“Alexander?”

Nobody called me Alexander except my mother. When she remembered me.

“Mom?” I couldn’t help it when my eyes teared up. This never happened. The last time I talked to my mom and she knew who I was happened when I visited last Christmas. That was months ago. I didn’t know what triggered her sudden memory of me, but everything else dropped from the forefront of my mind so I could bask in this. “How are you? I miss you.”

“Alexander, is that you?” my mother asked. I remembered her voice being fuller, livelier, not weak and broken. “Could you send me some more of your pictures? I love your pictures, especially the ones with the puppies.”

“I’ll, uh.” I had to cut myself off. I didn’t want to cry in front of her. “I’ll make sure to send you more, okay? Especially the Dalmatians. I’ll take lots of those.”

There was a moment. It was a second that lasted too long. And even before I spoke, I knew her presence of mind had gone.

“Take what?” she asked. “Who is this? What will you be taking? Shall I call the police?” Another beat. “Help! Help!”

There was a muffling sound. “Hey.” Lily was back on the line and Mom seemed to be calming down in the background. “Sorry. She was good for the last ten minutes.”

“No, I uh, I’m glad I got to talk to her like she’s my mom, you know?” I didn’t want Lily to hear me tearing up. Even though it was an appropriate moment and she would completely understand, I wanted to be the strong older brother she needed me to be. She already had to be strong for Mom. The least I could do was be the strong one for her.

“No, I get it.” There was a pause as Lily continued to calm our mother down. “I’ll talk to you in a few days.”

I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “Let me know if you need anything,” I told her. “Honest, Lily. If you need anything, just ask.”

“Pictures,” she murmured, her voice quiet. I knew it was hard for her to even ask. “The kind she likes. You know. The Dalmatians.”

“I will.”

My mother was another reason why I became a photographer. When I was younger, she’d merely encouraged the hobby which became my whole life. After her diagnosis, she loved looking at pictures and I thought that if I kept showing her different pictures, she would remember. Remember me, or remember Lily, or remember Dad. I felt like if I caught the perfect shot, everything would be better. She would remember everything and everyone, and Lily would be able to live a normal life.

Maybe that was why I pushed myself so hard to be the best. Ultimately, I knew it was impossible. I knew my mother would never be cured and there would be a time when she wouldn’t come back, when she wouldn’t remember me ever again.

I didn’t want to think about that. Lily always tried to prepare me for that moment that had yet to happen, but I refused to talk about it. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to think about it. I threw myself into work.

For a moment, I remembered my time with Charlie. I didn’t regret leaving her but I wished I was still there. I wished I could hold her and lose myself in her and just forget that my own mother didn’t recognize my face.

I had no idea where I was going, but I pulled over to the side of the car, made sure that no one was around, and let myself cry.