Chapter Thirteen

 

Ireland

St. Helen’s Nursing Home was located in a quiet neighborhood in the north end of Dewhurst Point. When I chose it a few years back, it was the best facility I could find. Their staffing was vetted, and hand-picked specifically by the owner, and they were encouraged to participate in ongoing professional development to keep on top of the changing times. They weren’t overworked like us nurses at the hospital or in other fields, and they were treated well. Respect was important in the field of nursing—I would know. When expectations ran high, and support ran low then problems arose.

I stared at the front entrance of the building from my car, unable to get out and do what I’d come to do. It was a gorgeous afternoon in early September, but a storm raged in my mind, blocking out the blue skies and replacing them with a black vortex.

The mixed emotions stirring my gut made me nauseous. Dozens of times over the past two days I’d wavered on what to do. The calls had been coming in regularly, and I knew I needed to visit.

Except, all my determination fizzled out the minute I pulled into the parking lot.

Visions of the past few weeks with Raven relentlessly thrashed my mind. So many good times. We’d taken intimacy to a level I’d never imagined we could achieve. Two nights ago, I’d fallen asleep with my arm across his chest. In five years, I’d never slept that way with anyone. Sharing a bed with my partner was one thing but maintaining touch during sleep was another.

Although Raven couldn’t advance on me freely, nor could he smother me beneath him as we shared intense moments of pleasure, we’d taken huge strides forward. Being here, visiting my mother, risked everything.

The idea alone brought with it a punch of self-loathing. She was my mother. How was walking away even an option? Growling, I slammed my fist on the steering wheel and threw my head back against the headrest.

The spinning thoughts were eating me alive. I fished my phone from my pocket and pulled up Erin’s office number. I didn’t know if I was angry, anxious, frightened, or sad. It was like being torn in ten different directions at the same time, and if I didn’t talk to someone, I was going to tear myself to shreds. Selfishness screamed for me to leave. She didn’t even know who I was anymore. How would my visit help?

“Hello, Dr. Kelby’s office, this is Amanda, how can I help you?”

“Hey, Mandy, it’s Ireland Hayes.” My voice sounded distant and hollow in my ears, as though I was standing in an empty room and my words had nowhere to go, so they bounced back at me, muted and muffled inside the cavern of my brain. “Is Erin available?”

“She’s in with a client right now. She’ll probably be another fifteen minutes or so. Is it an emergency? I can probably pull Mr. Anderson away if you need to speak with someone immediately.”

Emergency? Anderson?

“Who? I don’t know who that is.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Mr. Anderson is a psychology student working under Dr. Kelby now. He’s a recent hire. He’s in with her and a patient at the moment, but I can pull him out if you need to chat.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head. “No. I need Erin. Um… can you please have her call me immediately when she’s free. It’s important.”

“I can do that.”

“Thanks.” I hung up and chucked my phone on the seat beside me before dropping my head on the steering wheel. For a half a second, I considered calling Raven, but I didn’t want him to know how badly I’d been struggling. I went out of my way to hide this inner battle from him.

For the following twenty minutes, I tried to empty my mind and think of nothing, but it was impossible. The more I pushed my thoughts away, the more claustrophobic and pressing they became. Raven was glued to the forefront of my mind. His feathery light breath as he blew across my skin, warning me of an incoming kiss, was almost a physical sensation. With perfect accuracy, I mapped his body, remembering the feel of him under my fingers and the taste of him in my mouth. Each kiss was ingrained into my mind. Each moment, precious and fragile.

Then, when everything was perfect, a phone would ring. Its constant drone was a steady reminder of what I sacrificed to gain ground in my relationship. Every time we were together, I sat higher on a throne of shame and guilt. I gritted my teeth and punched the dash, choking back a sob when I recalled the endless phone calls reminding me of my neglect.

The ringing wouldn’t stop, and I clutched my hands over my ears. I just wanted peace. I wanted Raven to be there and not walk away frustrated like Julia or Cara or any of the others. Again, the noise of a phone blasted my brain, warning me I should not ignore my responsibilities no matter what happened as a result.

When the ringing didn’t fade, I realized it wasn’t my imagination. My phone went off repeatedly on the seat beside me. I’d been so lost on the battlefield, I no longer knew what was real or not.

I checked the screen before answering. It was Dr. Kelby’s office. Had I really been sitting there lost in thought that long?

“Erin?” My voice was husky and raw with emotion. My eyes burned simply knowing she was close at hand and would talk me through this.

“What’s up, hun? Amanda said it was important. Are you at work?”

“No. Took a day off.”

“Another one? That worries me. It’s becoming a habit again.”

“Erin, I’m such a mess right now.”

“I can hear that. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I’m at the nursing home.”

“Is everything all right with your mother?”

“I… I don’t know. I can’t go in. I’ve been sitting here for over an hour, and I just can’t do it.”

There was a long sigh on the other end. “I can hear you’re struggling. Tell me how come.”

I blinked back more threatening tears and talked through the blockage in my throat. “It’s going to ruin me. I don’t want to go backward again. Everything is so good right now. I can’t.” I choked on the last word and clenched my jaw.

“You’re in control, Ireland. Deep breaths. Close your eyes and find your center. Walking in there does not guarantee a setback, and you know it. If you walk in anticipating failure, then you will find failure. You know what these visits entail. Go in there prepared. Take with you the tools I have given you. What you hear does not constitute truth. We’ve discussed this many times. Your truth is not your mother’s.”

She spoke, and I listened to her soothing voice, following her instructions and searching for my Zen. For years, Erin had provided a voice of reason, a guiding hand in an otherwise chaotic storm. I trusted her like no other.

“If you slip, that’s okay because you will move forward once again. Every time you come back stronger. You know this. Every time it’s easier.”

“But… this time I have more to lose.”

“Meaning?”

“Raven,” I whispered. “Erin, we’ve come so far. I can’t lose him.”

“Remember what I’ve told you in the past. If the person you’re with chooses not to understand your phobia, then they aren’t the right person for you. Will Raven understand when things don’t always move forward? Because that will happen. You know the road to healing isn’t linear.”

Shivering, my heart ached at the thought of losing him when I’d only just found him. He seemed so understanding and realistic, but what if reality changed that? The idea of losing him terrified me. I didn’t truly know if he’d stand by my side.

“I’m scared,” I whispered.

“Talk to me. Why are you scared?”

“I…” The truth slapped me in the face out of nowhere, and I flinched, clutching a hand to my chest and pulling at my shirt. “Oh, God, Erin… I love him. I fucking love him. If I ruin it…”

“Shhh…”

Silence followed my confession. Alone with my thoughts, I realized that was why I’d been so terrified to return to the home. The bond Raven and I had formed was so much more than I’d ever had with anyone in the past, including my two-year relationship with Julia. It had taken to be face to face with loving Raven to understand that I’d never really loved her.

“Do you think he loves you too?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Well, if he does, then he’ll understand. Ireland, do what your heart is telling you to do. But do it with confidence. Remember, if you expect failure, failure will find you.” She sighed. “Hun, I have to let you go. My next appointment is waiting. Come see me on your lunch hour tomorrow. Do not call in again, no matter how bad it is, understand me? You are stronger than this. I believe in you.”

If only I could believe in myself.

We disconnected our call, and I stared again at the front entrance to the nursing home. My teeth chattered as I turned my phone over in my hands. With a tremble I couldn’t shake, I got out of the car and crossed the parking lot.

A cool September breeze blew, and the birds sang, but I was numb to everything. Each step forward took effort.

Inside, the young man behind the reception desk glanced up, recognizing me immediately.

“Ireland. Haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?”

“Hey, Ainsley, been busy. How are you?”

“Meh, you know. Work, school, no time to play.” He winked and balanced his chin on an upturned hand. I forced a smile I didn’t feel and ignored his suggestive blinking and luring gaze.

I took the clipboard off the countertop which separated us and signed in as a visitor. Ainsley slid a key card attached to a lanyard toward me and winked again, licking his plump lips. He was a flirt, and I’d turned down his offer to meet up for drinks enough times he was starting to take the hint. Kinda.

I took the key card and waved goodbye as I headed around the corner in the lobby toward the elevators. I used the card for access and rode to the third floor. Because of people like my mother, the third floor was on a twenty-four-hour lockdown. There were signs everywhere reminding visitors to ensure doors were closed behind them and no one snuck onto the elevator when the doors were open. Dementia patients didn’t always understand where they were, and they were notorious for wandering off and getting lost.

On the third floor, I scanned the common area where I exited and didn’t see any signs of my mother. It was a large room, painted warm beige with numerous couches, chairs, a fireplace, and a TV hanging on the wall playing reruns of The Andy Griffith Show.

In the earlier stages of her disease, my mother spent a lot of time in that room, mingling and making friends she forgot by the following day. She’d spent her free time doing arts and crafts and joined in on the music activities and reading time. Not anymore. Her social skills had deteriorated with her, and according to her staff, she was too lost in the past and stuck in a state of paranoia to take part in anything.

Her room was at the end of the far hallway behind the nurse’s station, so I turned in that direction. Before I got far, one of her nurses, Susan, caught my eye and hustled over with a soothing smile.

I had no energy left to offer my own and instinctively shoved my hands in my pockets, bracing myself.

“Hey, Suzie Q,” I greeted.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m surprised to see you. I know Elaine has been calling you a lot.”

Elaine was one of the head nurses on the third floor, and she was notorious for ensuring families stayed informed of their loved one’s care. I didn’t fault her for doing her job, but each phone call had resulted in making my guilt grow.

“Yeah… How’s Mom?”

Suzie knew not to touch me, but at that moment, she looked like she wanted to reach out and offer a friendly squeeze. Comfort. It was not reassuring, and I stepped back, not meaning to hurt her feelings but needing more space.

“She’s not doing too well.” I knew that but gritted my teeth at the confirmation. “Her confusion is really upsetting her. She is spending a great deal of her time sleeping. When she’s awake, she cries a lot, and she’s been refusing to eat the last few days. We do what we can to encourage it, but you know how she is if we try to help. She doesn’t like people near her.”

My stomach dropped. Her refusal to eat was a bad sign, and I blinked heavily as I scanned the common room again, unable to look Suzie in the eyes. My heart skipped and beat a painful rhythm. I scrambled to keep control.

“She’s been asking for you,” Suzie said, tilting her head to the side with sympathy.

I snapped my head back and frowned. “For me?”

“Mmhm… by name. Always telling her nurses to call you so you’ll come and take her home.”

Well, if I didn’t already feel like the worst person on earth, that solidified it. Guilt tried to drown me, and even when I knew that her asking for me didn’t indicate she necessarily knew who I was, I hated myself

“Thanks,” I choked. “I’m gonna go see her for a bit.”

“She doesn’t eat in the dining hall anymore, so her lunch was delivered not too long ago to her room. Maybe you’ll have better luck getting her to eat.”

Doubtful.

I left Susan and aimed for the hallway which would lead to my mother’s room. Each step closer hammered painfully through my system. My anxiety rose, and my heart rate with it. Halfway down the hall, I passed an elderly woman in a wheelchair. Her aid was attempting to untangle her IV line where it had wrapped itself around the arm of her chair.

The elderly woman swatted the nurse’s hand. “Stop touching me. Get back, I don’t need your help, I can do it my own self.”

Her words trickled into my brain, and I shook myself, trying to dislodge them before they rooted. Echoes of my past swam in the background, threatening to come forward.

“Get away,” she hollered again. “Stop touching me!”

My feet came to a stop as a chill climbed my spine. My control was slipping, and I wasn’t even there yet. I rubbed at my eyes, breathing a steady pattern as I reminded myself of Erin’s words. I was stronger than this. I was in control.

Am I really?

At my mother’s room, I paused, gathered myself, then pushed through. The private room was small but cozy. Tan-colored walls and dark brown curtains tried to dispel the unquestionable medical environment. Aside from a hospital bed, there was a small dresser I’d purchased for my mother’s clothes and a closet.

Mom sat in her glider-rocker by the window overlooking the gardens below. It was a view I knew she’d enjoy which was why I’d requested a room facing that direction. They’d dressed her in comfortable cotton pants of forest green and a loose-fitting blouse with matching stripes. A wicker basket sat beside her with knitting projects she could no longer sort out. Her once blonde hair was mostly white, and she’d pinned it back haphazardly out of her eyes. It was noticeable her skills with such things were not what they once were. The look on her face was distant, blank, and she didn’t take note of my presence.

“Hey, Mom,” I whispered, approaching cautiously.

I avoided the cart with her lunch tray and sat on the end of her bed close to her chair. She turned and examined me, a furrow creasing her brow. It was too much to hope that Susan was right. I could tell immediately by the blank look behind her gaze that she had no idea who I was.

Her next words confirmed it.

“Will you call my son, dear. His name is Ireland. I think he’s running late. He was supposed to come and take me home at three.”

I bit my hoop and nodded. “Sure, I’ll let a nurse know to call him.”

I’d learned long ago not to upset her by trying to correct her confused thoughts. The last thing I wanted was to set her off. I’d been a stranger for the better part of ten months, and I’d accepted it—as heartbreaking as it was.

She turned back to the window, squinting into the distance. She refused her glasses anymore, and it wasn’t worth the argument. With Alzheimer’s, you had to pick and choose your battles and wearing glasses wasn’t one of them. I followed her gaze and struggled for something to say. Scanning her room, I was reminded of her untouched lunch and Suzie’s announcement that she wasn’t eating much.

“Mom, do you want to try your lunch before they take it back? I bet you’re hungry.”

Her nose wrinkled but she didn’t look away from whatever had caught her eye. “I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure?” I stood and examined her tray. With her new pureed diet, it was impossible to tell what was on the menu. It was nothing more than brown mush in a bowl. “It… um… it looks good,” I lied.

No response.

This was better than a tirade of screaming. It was those episodes that crippled me. Before I could try and convince her again, Suzie came into the room with a med cup of pills and a crusher.

“Hello, Martine, I have your meds for you, and I thought we could try taking a bit of lunch.”

My mother groaned and shooed a hand in her direction. “No, thank you. I told you, I’m going home soon. Ireland is coming.”

Suzie and I shared a look, and I asked her silently not to correct her. If I didn’t know it was in her best interest, I would have asked her not to push lunch and pills on her while I was present, either, but I knew I couldn’t do that. Suzie seemed to take the hint and worked to crush my mother’s pills before opening a cup of applesauce and dumping the powder on the top.

Forgetting to chew and swallow food was sadly just another symptom of advanced Alzheimer’s. The risks of choking were much higher, hence the pureed diet.

When she approached my mother, spoon in hand, my back stiffened and teeth clamped shut. I moved out of the way, nearing the door with every step closer Suzie got to invading my mother’s space. I knew it was necessary. I knew these people fought a continuous battle when they helped her dress and bathe each day. But I also knew what I risked when witnessing such a struggle.

When Suzie bent down to get at my mother’s level and placed a hand on her knee to draw her attention, I squeezed my eyes shut as though I was the one being physically touched against my will.

Before words of protest could scream past Mom’s lips, I fled. Everything inside me overflowed, and I knew I couldn’t be there. As I raced down the hallway, the echoes of her outburst followed me. I prayed to whatever god might listen that those echoes were my mother’s actual cries of despair and not my mind waking up and stealing my sanity yet again.

Like a coward, I stumbled to the elevator, tense and gritting my teeth, doing all I could to not cover my ears.

I am in control.

I am in control.

I barely acknowledged Ainsley when I returned the key card and bolted to the parking lot. Deaf to his questions about my wellbeing, I focused solely on getting away.

My eyes burned, and the palpitations against my ribs surfaced a wave of dizziness. Inside my car, I slammed a solid fist against the steering wheel over and over, telling myself I hadn’t been in the room long enough to break. I was out. I was safe. Or was I? I didn’t even know anymore. Abandoning her out of fear was a new low. How rickety was the ground beneath me? Was I in jeopardy of slipping from such minimal contact? Had I already? The roar of noise battering my brain wouldn’t cease.

It’s just stress. I’m in control.

I’M IN FUCKING CONTROL!

Bubbling, burning rage mixed with fear, and I needed to move—get away from the edge. With a few deep breaths, I laid my head back against the headrest and pushed my mother’s cries to the back of my mind. Would they stay there? Was I fucked? Erin had taught me meditation, so I forced a calm setting, forced the chaos away, and stayed in a place of peace for a long while, hoping when I opened my eyes to the world again that I hadn’t lost my footing.

I didn’t know how much time passed. My body calmed, my mind stopped pummeling me with threats, and my heart rate returned to normal. I opened my eyes and scanned the parking lot. Analyzing my inner psyche scared me, so I avoided looking too deeply just yet. When I started the car, I checked the dash and the time. It was just after four. I’d been at the nursing home half the day—despite being inside for less than fifteen minutes.

A niggling uncertainty remained, so I drove home, changed into running gear, and took off. “You can’t run away from your problems,” Erin once told me. Well, I certainly could try. I didn’t plan a destination, but when I hit the dirt road leading toward Raven’s, I knew it was because I needed assurance that I hadn’t fucked things up. It was just shy of twenty kilometers to the farmhouse, but I didn’t care. I pushed my body, focusing on the thumping of my feet against the ground, losing myself in the vibrations as they ran up my legs. When worry tried to sneak in, I shoved it away.

My only solace; the echoes weren’t following me.

Please stay gone.

I’d never trained for a half-marathon or participated in any running activities outside my own daily run. I ran for sanity when the world and my problems became too much. So, by the time I reached the long driveway leading to Raven’s loft apartment in the barn, every part of my body ached from the strain. My lungs burned from being pushed to their limit, and I was drenched in sweat. The cool September breeze did nothing. I was on fire and more determined than ever to prove I hadn’t fucked up months worth of progress in a fifteen-minute visit with my mother.

I was glad to see Raven’s van parked in its spot.

Out of breath and moving on legs made of jelly, I pounded on the barn door and let myself in, knowing Raven likely wouldn’t hear from up in the loft.

“Hey,” I called, zeroing in on the ladder and crossing the room in a daze.

Staggering to the top of the ladder, I came face to face with Raven, looking more than a little surprised to see me. Before he could utter a word, I fisted his shirt front and dragged him up against me, crashing our lips together. For a second, he didn’t kiss back, probably too stunned to move. When I ripped at his shirt and tore it over his head, he caught on.

“Woah, what’s going on?”

My eyes burned, but I ignored them as I shoved him down on the bed, tore my own shirt off, and crawled over top of him to unbuckle his belt. My dexterity was compromised; my fingers trembled and wouldn’t cooperate.

Fear circled my mind like a predator, ready to tear me apart at any moment, and I couldn’t get a grip. I struggled with the belt some more but growled in frustration when my fumbling fingers failed. Raven saw through me and stilled my attempt to take off his pants.

“Stop. Woah. What’s up?”

“Take your pants off,” I gritted, dodging his hand when he reached for my arm, then cursed my avoidance. Fuuucck!

“Ireland.” He sat up. I was on his lap, and the discomfort of being so close pressed in all around me. “Ireland, I’m going to touch you, okay?”

I didn’t mean to, but I cringed and tensed, flinching when his hands rose to my face. I was off his lap and laying punches into the barn-board wall before I could even process my anger. Roaring with pent-up rage, my mind officially caved. The pressure was too much. The weight more than I could shoulder. I wanted out. I wanted free, but I was chained, kept prisoner against my will to this crippling anxiety. For all my life, I’d never stood a chance.

The world slipped away. It was me and the barn-board wall. We were no match for one another. He was strong and formidable, and I was weak and exhausted. It tore my hand open, splitting the skin over my knuckles, and bruising the tender flesh. There was no pain, only blood, and sorrow.

Over and over again, I hollered rage and punched until all my energy had been expelled.

Spent, my mind in ruins, I collapsed and buried my face in my hands.

Peace descended after my tirade—or maybe it was numbness, it didn’t matter, it felt good. I soaked in its soothing balm for a long time. The next sensation I registered was a gentle cooling breath as Raven blew across my heated skin on my shoulder. It was followed by a tender kiss. Without words, he’d found a way to warn me before making contact. Another fanning breath of air closer to my nape. Another kiss. A breath; a kiss.

He continued with delicate impressions across my shoulders and along the back of my neck, each one working to bring me back to reality. Not a single one sent me fleeing. He nuzzled my neck and trailed more kisses to my ear.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

When I didn’t pull away, he began rubbing my shoulders. I leaned back against him and allowed him to envelop me in his arms. Never in all my life had I been okay with hugging. It was confining and threatened the fragile hold I kept on my thoughts. For the first time since I was five years old, I found comfort in another person’s embrace.

“Hear me. Listen to me,” he continued. “I’m not going anywhere. I will not abandon you. I couldn’t. I’ve fallen so hard for you, Ireland. I love you.”

Those final three words were my undoing. The dam broke, and I cried. Wracking sobs took over my body as I came undone, but Raven never let me go. He held me, shushed me, and whispered a steady stream of affection in my ear. His touch of love was the only comfort I needed.

At some point, he helped me onto the bed, and exhaustion pulled me under. I slept, deeper than I had in weeks. It was late when I woke, and I was groggy, hazy, and really thirsty. When I dragged myself to sitting, it took extreme effort, more than it should have.

Raven was strumming his guitar on the other side of the room. Something familiar but in my muddled state, I couldn’t put my finger on it. He glanced up at my movement.

“Hey, sleepy. How are you doing?”

My mouth was pasty and dry, making it difficult to form words. “What time is it?”

“After eight. You slept pretty hard.”

“I think my sugars are crashing. I feel funny.”

“Did you bring your meter?” Raven jumped up and placed his guitar on its stand.

I thought back to my frantic flight earlier from the nursing home to my apartment and then to Raven’s. “No, I didn’t think to grab it. I…”

“I’ll grab you something to eat, then I’ll drive you home. I can’t believe you ran here. That’s insane. It’s twenty kilometers, you know.”

It was funny how the entire trip was now a blur. My sole focus had been on proving I hadn’t slipped. I’d barely noted the extent I’d gone to getting to Raven’s house. Desperation made people do crazy things.

Raven disappeared down the ladder, and I scooted to the edge of the bed, searching for my discarded shirt. I needed a shower. Dried sweat coated my skin, and my shirt was still damp from my run. It took great effort to pull it on, but it took even more to get down the ladder without falling. Yeah, I was definitely sugar-crashing.

Raven met me outside at the van. He shoved a juice box and a granola bar into my hands and opened the passenger side door for me.

“Come on.”

The ride was silent. I ate and drank and let the hit of sugars and carbs work until I could get a proper meal into me. As he drove, I watched Raven. The dash only partially lit up his face, but I could see the concern in the set of his mouth.

“I’ll be okay,” I mumbled, barely able to form thoughts let alone words.

To emphasize my point, I reached across the console and took his hand. There were no echoes, and I wanted to cry again with relief.

At my apartment, Raven insisted on helping me cook. Together we made a simple casserole. While it was in the oven, Raven encouraged me to clean up my bloodied knuckles. I’d made a mess earlier, and they were tender and slightly swollen. Once treated with some ointment and a few Band-Aids, I returned to the living room and Raven. On the couch, I turned sideways and faced him, knowing he deserved an explanation for my sudden appearance and wild outburst earlier.

“I visited my mother today. Or rather, I tried.”

He studied my face, worry etched into multiple creases along his forehead, so I dropped my gaze to the couch between us.

“I was a coward and left the minute things looked like they might escalate. I was so scared of ruining things between us.”

“Hey.” Raven reached out and offered his hand for me to take. I accepted it, and he smoothed his thumb over the surface in calming circles. “You won’t ruin us. Setbacks will happen. I know this. I’m prepared.”

“I don’t want to go backward.”

“I know, but you can’t jeopardize your time with your mother because of something that might happen. Ireland, I’m here for you, no matter what, like I told you earlier.”

His words were still fresh in my mind. Not only had he proclaimed he wasn’t going anywhere but he made an admission of feelings I would never forget. Did he mean it or was he trying to piece me back together when I’d fallen apart? Like he could read my mind, he leaned in and pecked my lips.

“And, yes, I do love you. I hope that’s okay.”

My heart swelled, and I kissed him back, pressing into him, freeing up all the emotions I’d been too scared to voice.

“I love you too,” I said into our kiss. “I’m so scared to lose you.”

“You won’t. I’m here.”

“She’s not well.”

“All the more reason for you to visit while you can. Stop worrying about what it will do to us. Life’s too short, Ireland. Go see her. Even if she doesn’t know you. She’s your mother. Don’t wait until it’s too late.”

His words sank in, and without thought or fear, I leaned into his embrace and allowed him to hold me again. There was safety in Raven’s arms, and love, something I hadn’t felt in a lifetime.