I can’t believe I’m doing this. After everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve, I’m letting her down. Letting my entire family down.

Still, I see no other option.

I turned down Evergreen Way, the large wrought iron gate of Carmichael Gardens growing across my windshield. I could feel her tense up beside me. She had no idea where we were or what we were doing. I wondered if this was what it had been like for her when I was a kid — telling me we were going to get ice cream and we ended up at the doctor.

The thought slowed me down. I almost stopped the car completely. I feared much worse than shots were waiting for her here. Most likely, her final place before the great beyond. None of us had been much for religion, which struck me as odd as I’d grown into a man, a SEAL. Non-religious Italians just weren’t a thing, and yet here we were.

Part of me wished we had faith to fall back on as I came to a complete stop in front of the looming gate. My training took over, and I started looking for ways out, or in. It was habit, but it calmed me. Running contingency plans was my lullaby. The gate would be too high for most to scale – most, but not me. The fence surrounding the rest of the property looked sturdy, better than expected when all they’re securing is feeble-minded old people.

I flinched and mentally apologized to Ma for the slight. Sometimes training taking over wasn’t such a good thing.

“License, please.” An older uniformed guard stepped out of the forest green and brown building in front of the gate. He was well-dressed, with his shirt tucked in, buttons straight, and belt snug on the hip. This guy was the real deal.

“Yes, sir,” I replied instinctively as I reached for my wallet. The man, Everett by his badge, nodded in recognition. A fellow soldier, for sure.

He inspected my credentials and turned his gaze toward my Rover. “What year?”

“’16, tag number NVY HUA.”

The guard smiled. “Hua.” He then offered a nearly imperceptible salute and pushed a small, white button on the wall of his out building. The gate slid open cleanly, no squeak or mechanical distress noises.

Slowly, I pulled forward, allowing the iron bars to close behind us. No turning back now. I took Ma’s hand in mine as we followed the winding driveway to the home. I couldn’t help but be impressed at the splendor. Bright green ivy wrapped around large Romanesque columns ten feet apart, circling the estate as far as I could see. On either side of the narrow road was a lush garden, escorting us to the main building. As we arrived, close enough now to see the building — castle — through the fog, I was taken aback by its elegance.

“Downton Abbey!” Ma clasped her hands in front of her like a schoolgirl. The sight of it made me release the breath that had been caught in my chest for days.

As I parked, two orderlies in pastel blue suits came to assist us with Ma’s things. Their scrubs looked like they were crafted from the finest silk, not the stiff canvas material I’d grown accustomed to with Ma’s many trips to Dr. Hedman’s office. Waiting atop the sloping concrete staircase was a matronly woman in a finely crafted and neat pant suit. “Right on time. I expected as much. I’m Ms. Wallace; we spoke on the phone.”

“Pleasure to meet you, finally. The brochures don’t do this place justice, ma’am.” I extended my hand as we reached the top step.

“Why, thank you. We do our best.” She smiled down at Ma. “And you must be Sophia.”

“Where’s Mr. Bates?” Ma asked, looking past Ms. Wallace. “I don’t want Thomas in my room. I don’t like him.”

I tried to explain to Ms. Wallace what Ma was talking about, but she was already responding. “Don’t worry, Thomas has taken another position in Ripon.” She gave me a knowing head nod as she escorted Ma into the foyer. Whispering, she assured me that they get this all the time. It must be the castle exterior.

“It is breathtaking. I can see why Ma loved that show,” I agreed.

“Yes, I started watching after about the third new resident had the same reaction. I must say, I’m now addicted. Trying to catch up.”

After finishing the paperwork while Ma watched TV with some other residents, it was time to head up to her room. I took her arm and led the way, following behind Ms. Wallace. She was explaining the inner workings of the facility, meal times and visiting hours, but I didn’t hear much of it. I could feel Ma’s placid state slipping away. Her shoulders tensed beside me, her hand resisting my grip.

Ms. Wallace opened the door to Ma’s room with an old-fashioned gold key, like something out of a movie. She then handed it to me. “You have full access at all times.”

The room was filled with Ma’s things, decorated just as it had been in my condo. The orderlies must have been busy while we signed the contracts. That’s what the pictures were for.

Ma stepped inside, still hesitant, but reassured by the decor. She eyed the room, then shuffled over to the tall dresser in the corner, opened the top drawer, and slammed it shut. She looked back at me, and then at the two orderlies standing at the door. “Where is it?”

“Where’s what, Ma?”

“He took it. Thomas took it!”

“What are you talking about? Took what? It’s OK, Ma. Everything’s OK.”

“My rosary! Thomas took my Rosary! Baxter. Where’s Baxter?”

I looked at Ms. Wallace, confused. “She doesn’t have a rosary. I don’t know —” The spell is broken.

“It’s probably best that we let her rest and settle in. Maybe give her a couple days to adjust before coming back to visit.” Ms. Wallace ushered me out the door to the screams of my mother telling the orderlies to go fetch this Baxter person.

Then, as the door closed, Ma yelled, “How could you do this to me? You’ll regret this!” I knew she was talking to me, even if she didn’t.

Back in the lobby, I fidgeted with the ornate key in my pocket, half-listening to Ms. Wallace’s attempts to placate me. I fought the urge to run upstairs and rescue Ma from her delusion, take her home and tell her this was all a mistake. Ms. Wallace handed me a thick, glossy folder with all of the contracts and important numbers stuffed inside. I turned to walk away as she was giving me the schedule for the automatic bank draft on the first of the month. When she mentioned the Hospice nurse, it was too much to bear, and I blocked her out.

I sat in my empty car, wondering how I was going to come up with the monthly fee for this place on my pension. And how I’d survive after I no longer had to pay it.