Mia

Mac Brown was once a giant. Standing 6’3”, with broad shoulders, a strong back, and black skin that glistened when he was working hard, my grandpa was my idol growing up. When our neighbors needed help moving furniture or unloading a truck, they always knocked on our door and asked for my grandpa. I felt a surge of pride every time, certain there was nothing he couldn’t do.

And now it hurts my heart to see him so much smaller. At age seventy-five, he’s lost a lot of weight and is a shadow of his former self. The outline of his legs beneath the white bed sheets is nothing compared to the tree trunks he used to have.

“Who are you?” he asks as he stirs awake from a nap.

“I’m Mia.” I set my textbook down and stand up.

“What are you doing in my house?” He looks from side to side uncertainly.

We’re actually at Goodman House, a high-end long-term care facility for people with Alzheimer’s disease. But I learned the hard way that correcting my grandfather only agitates him.

“I just like spending time with you,” I tell him.

He gives me a skeptical look. “Did you steal my wallet?”

“No, but if it’s missing, I’ll help you find it.”

I don’t know what I’ll be in for when I visit my grandpa on my two days off work. Sometimes he’s happy and content, and other times he’s sullen and paranoid about the people around him. But his disease has reached a point where one thing is always certain—he no longer knows who I am.

“These damn people are always taking my wallet,” he mutters.

“Can I tell you something?” I sit down on the end of his bed. “I admire you and your wife very much.”

“My wife?” He looks surprised.

“Well, she’s gone now. Her name was Clara and she died of a heart attack five years ago. But many years ago, your daughter had a little girl and she wasn’t ready to be a mom. The baby’s father didn’t want anything to do with the baby, either. So you and Clara raised her as your own. You loved her very much and gave her a wonderful life.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You’ve always been a very good man, Mac. Someone others look up to.”

He mulls over my words, then says, “I have to pee.”

My grandpa has changed a lot. Sometimes I only see glimpses of the man who raised me. But whoever he is, and whatever he becomes as this horrible disease progresses, I’ll love him.

“Want me to help you get up?” I ask him.

He prefers to be asked, rather than have people just take over and make decisions for him. He swings his legs over to the side of the bed but falters when his back doesn’t have the support of the mattress.

“Can I help?” A nurse peeks in at us through the open doorway.

“I guess so,” my grandpa says gruffly.

At Goodman House, there are silent alarms everywhere. One sounded at the nursing station as soon as my grandpa’s back left his bed. And every time he moves around or gets agitated, a nurse is there within seconds. This place is expensive, but the peace of mind is worth every penny.

“What are you up to today, Mia?” the nurse, Susan asks as we help my grandpa up and out of bed.

“I went to the laundromat this morning and studied while my laundry was going. And then I came here to see Mac.”

“He’s looking good, right? He’s even been sleeping at night a little bit.”

“That’s great.”

Alzheimer’s changes everything. My grandpa was always up at 5:30 a.m. and in bed by 10:00 p.m. But now he has trouble sleeping at night and often sleeps during the day. It causes him to miss a lot of his therapies, but the doctors have assured me this is common.

Susan takes my grandpa into the bathroom and then he insists on getting dressed, so we help him into a pair of canvas pants and a flannel. He doesn’t like that he needs help, and my heart breaks at the way his brow furrows as Susan buttons his shirt for him.

She tries so hard to distract him by talking about the weather and football, but there’s still a part of my grandpa inside him that knows he used to be able to do these things for himself.

“We could go get something to eat and then sit in the library,” I suggest to him.

His eyes light up. “Sure. Maybe Millie will be there today.”

His enthusiasm stings a little, even though it’s irrational. He’s forgotten his wife of forty-nine years and the granddaughter he raised, but he remembers the woman here he’s got the hots for.

Poor Millie doesn’t deserve my jealousy. She also has Alzheimer’s, and she seems like a sweet woman who loves life’s simple pleasures. But sometimes I shake my head inside, because while I know my grandma would want my grandpa to be happy, she’d be heartbroken to know he’s forgotten her.

“Do you work?” Grandpa asks me over lunch of chicken and noodles and mashed potatoes.

“Yes, I’m a bartender.”

He nods his appreciation. “Nothing better than lying down after a hard day’s work.”

“I think so, too. And I’m also in school, finishing up a business degree.”

“Good for you.”

My throat tightens with emotion. Whether he knows it’s me or not, my grandpa’s approval means everything. He dropped out of high school, and on my graduation day, he and my grandma hosted a party and invited the entire neighborhood.

“Our Mia’s a smart girl,” he bragged to anyone who would listen. “She’s gonna be the next Oprah, just you wait and see.”

I dropped out of college to marry Adam, the hockey player who swept me off my feet. Why finish when I’d be spending my life with a rich husband, I thought. My days would be spent cheering him on and raising our future children.

How wrong I was. And I can’t put any of the blame for that bad decision on him—it was all me.

Millie is in her usual chair in the library, in front of the big picture window where bird and squirrel feeders can be seen. Once my grandpa sees her, he loses all interest in me.

I love seeing him so happy. I just hang out with Grandpa and Millie for a couple hours, the two of them hardly noticing me. Still, it feels good to just be with him. To see with my own eyes that he’s being cared for so well.

“I’m going to head home,” I finally say, stretching as I stand up. “Thanks for spending time with me.”

“Of course, dear,” Millie says warmly.

“What’s your name again?” Grandpa asks me.

“It’s Mia.”

“Mia. Come see us again sometime, okay?”

“I will.”

I want to hug him, but he turns back to Millie, so I put my bag over my shoulder and walk to his room, where I left my coat. I’m passing the nurses’ station when Susan calls my name.

“Hey, sorry,” she says sheepishly. “The billing department asked me to pass this on to you.”

“Thanks.” I take the envelope and meet her eyes across the desk.

We both know what it is. It’s a late notice for my grandpa’s bill, and it’s not the first one I’ve gotten in the past eight months. I sigh inwardly.

“He’s doing well here,” Susan says softly.

“You guys do a great job. I’m grateful.”

I can tell she wants to say more, but she just smiles. How do you say what she’s obviously thinking?

Sorry this place costs fifteen grand a month, but at least he’s getting good care.

Before, it wasn’t an issue. But now…

I button my coat and sit down on a bench outside the main entrance, tears filling my eyes as I take out my phone. I’m filled with dread as I pull up the contact for the last person on Earth I want to call.

But what’s stronger—my contempt for Adam or my love for my grandpa?

I push the button to make the call.

“Hey,” Adam answers. “You ready to come crawling back?”

I close my eyes, my tears now falling onto my cheeks. My voice stays steady, though. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing I’m crying.

“My grandpa’s bill is due.”

“Better find a corner to work, whore.”

He’s been a dick to me for a long time, but still, it hurts every time.

“Adam, will you please give me a divorce? Neither of us wants to be in this marriage anymore.”

“I never said that. You’re the one who left.”

I shake my head. “How could you still want to be married to me? It wasn’t good.”

“My offer stands. I’ll give you a divorce if you agree that you get nothing. I’m not giving you a dime, bitch.”

“I only want enough to pay for my grandpa’s care. That’s it. You know I could get more.”

“Go for it, then.”

His tone is smug, because he’s got me right where he wants me, like he has for the past eight months. He froze all our bank accounts when he found out I was leaving him, and opened new ones in his name only. If I file for divorce, which I can’t afford because attorneys are so expensive, I can get what’s coming to me, but it’ll take months, maybe longer, for things to get settled. And in that time, my grandpa will lose his spot at Goodman House.

“I need to pay this bill,” I say, feeling defeated.

“You know what to do. Earn it like the whore you are. I’ve got a check waiting—you just need to come blow me for it.”

My stomach turns. I hate Adam. I hate what I’ve become because of him even more. I was so stupid, so completely blind. I thought his possessiveness when we were dating was sweet. I thought it was love. A big, strong alpha wanting to make me his forever.

Now I know, though. He’s a control freak who gets off on making me beg and demean myself to pay for my grandpa’s care. He can’t control me anymore if we get divorced.

“I’ll do anything else, Adam.” I can’t help the shaking of my voice as I speak. “I’ll clean your house, cook for you…”

“You get the check when you swallow my load.” He hangs up on me.