CHAPTER TWO
Dani
Every Friday morning, I went to my mother’s tiny house about an hour outside of Las Vegas. It was the same house I grew up in, and not a thing had changed in the seven years since I moved out. The outside siding was still painted the same pale pink, and the front porch was old and worn down. I knew I needed to get someone to fix it, but I just never found the time. Or more importantly, the money.
When I stepped inside, I called out to Mom, but she didn’t answer. I laid my purse on the couch and headed toward the back. In such a small house, you could walk from one end to the other in seconds. Only two bedrooms sat at the back of the house — my mother’s and my childhood bedroom. I knocked on my mom’s door softly, pushing it open a few inches.
She was sleeping, her fragile body tucked beneath the covers. I smiled to myself and pulled the door closed again. I tiptoed back to the living room and sat down on the couch. She never slept very long. She was in the early stages of dementia, so everything was harder for her than it should have been. Sleeping. Eating. Everything.
Amelia Brooks gave birth to me two days after her fortieth birthday. My entire life, we had celebrated our birthdays with joint parties we both loved. My father died when I was only five. He was ten years older than my mother and passed away from a heart attack, leaving me with only flashes of memories of the man he was. Pictures of him were still scattered around the house, and I loved to sit and look at them. When I was young, I would pretend like he was talking to me, telling me all about his life and giving me advice. I soon grew out of the habit, but I still found myself gazing at his photographs from time to time.
Since my mother raised me on her own, we were always close. She was my best friend and the one person I always turned to. When she was officially diagnosed with dementia, I felt like my world was ending. At sixty-five years old, I still thought of her as young. Aside from her memory, there was more life in her than anyone half her age.
Her dementia was slowly getting worse. For the most part, she was still self-sufficient, but I made sure to visit her a few times a week to make sure everything was in order. As I sat on the couch, I decided to make myself useful and cook up a few meals to put in the fridge. As I stood to head to the kitchen, I heard her stir in her bedroom. Her soft voice was muffled by the closed door, but I recognized her anxious tone. She was always the most confused when she woke up.
“Mom,” I said, hurrying into her room. “Mom, I’m here.”
“Dani Bug.” Her voice was weak, but she smiled when her eyes fell on my face.
I reached out to take her hand and knelt beside the bed. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
“I’m alright, honey.” She pushed herself up in bed and shook her head, raising a hand to her temples. “I was just confused for a second.”
“That’s okay.” I kissed her soft cheek. “Are you hungry? Want some breakfast?”
“Sure.” She smiled and let me help her to her feet, and we walked into the kitchen together after she visited the bathroom. While I brewed a pot of coffee, she curled up in her usual chair at the little table my dad made many years ago. Her eyes were focused on me as I moved around, preparing breakfast for us both.
I made eggs and bacon without much thought, letting my body switch to autopilot. Mom didn’t speak while I cooked. I could tell she was still trying to wake up completely. As I finished breakfast and set her plate down in front of her, she blinked at me, a blank look in her eyes.
“What day is it?” she asked with a small frown.
I gave her a soft smile. “Friday.”
“Okay.” She nodded and began to eat. I sat down across from her and pulled my own breakfast toward me.
“What do you think? Is my bacon getting better?”
“Not crispy enough,” Mom complained. I laughed. My bacon was never crispy enough for her taste.
“I’ll work on it,” I promised.
She stabbed at her eggs and slowly morphed into her old self. “So, tell me. What’s going on? Anything new? Or anything old that I’ve forgotten?”
I tried to smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes. My mother liked to joke about her condition, but I never found it funny.
“My art show is on Tuesday. I’m nervous, but I think it’ll go well.”
“Tuesday,” she repeated with a nod. “And what day is today?”
“Friday,” I said patiently.
“Oh!” She shook her head. “Soon then.”
“Very soon.”
“Are you ready?”
I blew out a breath. “I think so. I’ve been preparing for weeks now.”
“It’ll be wonderful,” she assured me. She reached across the table and patted my hand. I smiled at her and continued eating my breakfast. “Will Perry make it to the show?”
I swallowed my food slowly, taking my time before I looked up at her. Perry was my boyfriend of the past five years, and my mother always found a way to slip him into our conversations.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “He’s out of town right now. I’m not sure when he’ll be back this time.”
“Out of town?” Mom frowned the way she did when she forgot something.
“For business, remember?” I said slowly. Perry had been traveling regularly over the past three years. He was almost always out of town, but my mother often forgot that.
“Right.” She nodded slowly. “Right. So, he won’t make it then?”
I stabbed another bite of egg. “I hope so. We’ll see.”
She slid her folk around her plate, and I could tell she was thinking something. I took a deep breath and braced myself for what I knew she would say. “Dani Bug, I know I’m sick.”
My chest tightened. That wasn’t at all what I thought she would say. Whenever Perry was brought up in conversation, she would harp on me about marriage and children.
“You’ll be okay, Mom,” I promised her.
“No.” She shook her head and put her fork down. Her eyes locked on mine. “I’m serious. I know I’m sick. I know I’m only going to get worse, and honey, I’d really like to see you settle down.”
And there it was.
“Mom…” I warned.
She held up her hand. “No. Let me finish, please. I would really like to see you get married and have children while I’m still around. While I can still remember it. I don’t want to look at my grandchildren and never know who they are. Even if I forget one day, I want to know them. At least, for a little while.”
My eyes filled with tears as she spoke. I couldn’t believe her newest tactic, but my heart melted all the same. Her guilt trips about settling down were normally less emotional and more logical. Bringing up her dementia was harsh. I felt like she’d punched me in the stomach. All the air was knocked out of my chest, and I had to calm myself down before I could speak again.
“I know,” I finally said. “I know, Mom.”
There was so much more I wanted to say, but I couldn’t form the words. I watched Mom finish her breakfast. After cleaning up the kitchen, I started a load of laundry while she got dressed. She called me into her room to help choose an outfit because she couldn’t remember if she was supposed to leave the house that day. These were the little things I helped her with. Cooking. Cleaning. Laundry. Getting dressed. Remembering the days of the week.
It was tedious, but I was happy to do it. My mother had taken care of me for forever. Now it was my turn. More than anything, I wanted to make her wish of seeing me marry come true, but I knew that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon. Despite being together for five years, Perry and I had never once discussed marriage. I thought about bringing it up a million times, but I never did.
Part of me wanted to see what else was out there, but I couldn’t end a five-year relationship over nothing more than curiosity. I felt like I owed Perry more than that. Which was a perfectly stupid reason for staying with someone. Gah. It was confusing and overwhelming and just easier to keep everything the same.
When it was time for me to leave, Mom pulled me in for a hug and kissed my temple. I breathed in her scent, wanting to remember every detail about her.
“Thank you for coming,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
“Honey, what day is today?” she asked again.
The backs of my eyes burned. “Friday.” She nodded and turned her attention to the television.
I let myself out of the house, locking the door firmly behind me. As I walked to my car, I pulled out my cell phone and went to Perry’s contact. All my mother’s talk about settling down made me…not quite miss him, but maybe think about him more than usual. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to hear his voice.
“Hey!” I said when he picked up. “How’s work going?”
“It’s insane,” Perry groaned. “I can’t even begin to tell you what I’ve been dealing with.”
I closed my eyes, wishing he’d ask me about my day. When the silence stretched, I caved. “I’m sorry. I can’t wait to hear all about it when you get back.”
“You won’t be interested,” Perry said, and I could almost hear him roll his eyes. “It’s not your thing.”
He wasn’t wrong. Perry’s business had never been particularly intriguing to me, but I did try to maintain a certain level of interest for the sake of our relationship. I wasn’t always successful.
“Still,” I said brightly. “I want to hear everything. I miss you so much.”
“Uh huh. Listen, Dani, I have to go.”
“Already?” I could hear the complaint in my voice. “We haven’t talked in days.”
“Sorry, but I have a few more meetings today.”
My sigh was loud and long. “Okay. I understand.”
“You always do,” he said, and his voice was lighter this time. “It’s why you’re so great.”
“Yep, that’s me. Understanding to the bitter end.” Then I remembered. “Will you be back in time for my art show? It’s on Tuesday, remember?”
“Oh yeah. Right,” Perry said, and I knew he’d forgotten. “Of course, I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Really?” I couldn’t keep the hope from my voice. Perry had made this promise, to be with me when I needed him, more times than I could count, and he often didn’t deliver. It wouldn’t have been surprising if he didn’t arrive back in town until Thursday or Friday of next week without so much as an apology call.
“Yes,” Perry promised. “Gotta go.”
“Okay. Talk to you later. I—”
The call dropped before I could finish my sentence. I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it for a second. Perry was busy. His business was important to him, and I never wanted to stand in the way of that, but I hated how much time it took up. He was almost always out of town, and when he wasn’t, he was on the phone or the computer nonstop. Our alone time had become increasingly shorter as the years went by.
It was hard to maintain our relationship, but I was comfortable with Perry. Our life together was easy and drama free. When we spent time together, we never argued, and we usually had fun. After five years, I was at ease with him. Still, as I tucked my phone into my purse and climbed in the car, I found myself wishing for something more.