Chương 2
“I didn’t count bruises.”
His mouth tightened.
Margaret whispered, “I kicked her.”
Laura closed her eyes.
Evan turned to his mother.
“What?”
Margaret looked down at her hands.
“She was trying to take my medicine.”
“You asked me to take it,” Laura said.
“I know.”
“You called me because you couldn’t remember what you had taken.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew it then.”
Margaret’s head came up.
“No, I did not.”
The old sharpness returned to her voice, and for one second she sounded exactly like herself—the woman who corrected cashiers when they gave her too much change, who cleaned underneath appliances, who had once driven forty miles back to a restaurant because Evan had left his jacket there and refused to let him buy another one.
Then the sharpness disappeared.
“I thought you were stealing from me,” she said.
Evan rubbed one hand across his mouth.
Laura watched him trying to arrange the information.
His mother had become confused.
His wife had known.
His wife was hurt.
Neither had told him.
On the bedside table, one of the prescription bottles gave a small plastic click as the house settled.
Evan looked at it.
Then at the others.
“Whose are those?”
No one answered.
He walked to the nightstand.
There were five bottles.
Margaret Bennett.
Margaret Bennett.
Margaret Bennett.
He picked one up, then another.
“Why are Mom’s medications in our bedroom?”
Laura stood again.
“Because she was taking them wrong.”
Margaret snapped, “I took one pill wrong.”
“You took Tuesday’s pills twice and then couldn’t remember Wednesday.”
“That was once.”
“And last Friday?”
Silence.
“And the blood pressure medication you said the pharmacy forgot to fill?”
“I found it.”
“In the freezer.”
Margaret’s eyes moved toward Evan.
He stared at her.
“In the freezer?”
“I put groceries away. It must have been in the bag.”
“It was an open bottle,” Laura said.
Margaret’s jaw worked.
“People make mistakes.”
“Yes.”
“I am sixty-eight years old, not a hundred and eight.”
“No one said you were.”
“You’ve been acting like it.”
Laura gave a small, exhausted laugh that held no humor.
“I’ve been hiding it.”
That silenced all three of them.
Evan put the bottle down.
“How long?”
Laura looked at Margaret.
Margaret looked at the floor.
“About three months.”
Evan’s eyes lifted.
“Three months?”
“The first strange thing was before that,” Laura said. “But three months since I knew it wasn’t just forgetting where she put things.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew something was wrong with my mother for three months.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
Laura’s shame came back so quickly it almost felt like relief. Anger was easier when someone else was wrong. Shame was what remained when everybody had a point.
“She asked me not to.”
Evan looked at Margaret.
“You asked her to hide this?”
Margaret’s voice was barely audible.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew what you would do.”
“What would I do?”
“You would take my keys.”
Evan stared at her.
Margaret continued before he could speak.
“You’d start calling doctors. You’d decide I can’t live alone. You’d go through my cabinets. You’d talk to people about me while I’m sitting in the room like I’m a chair.”
“That’s what you were afraid of?”
“I was afraid you’d take my life apart because I forgot a few things.”
“You hit Laura with a fireplace poker.”
“I didn’t know it was Laura.”
“Does that sound better to you?”
Margaret’s face twisted.
“No.”
The word came out small.
Laura sat on the bed again.
Evan turned toward her.
“And you agreed to this.”
It was not a question.
“At first I thought she was right.”
“About what?”
“That you’d panic.”
He laughed once.
It was an ugly sound.
“I am standing here looking at my wife’s legs covered in bruises because my mother has been attacking her in the middle of the night, and apparently I’m the unreasonable one for panicking.”
“I didn’t say unreasonable.”
“You said I’d panic.”
“You do.”
“So do normal people.”
“You try to fix things before you understand them.”
“And you hide them until they get dangerous.”
Laura opened her mouth, then closed it.
That one landed.
Evan saw it.
His anger did not lessen, but something in his posture did.
Margaret said, “This is my fault.”
Neither of them answered.
“I asked her.”
“You didn’t make me promise,” Laura said.
“I did, actually.”
“You asked. I said yes.”
Margaret looked at her.
Laura hated the gratitude that appeared in the older woman’s face.
She hated it because some part of her still wanted it.
Evan noticed that too.
He moved away from the bed and sat on the small bench beneath the window.
For nearly a minute no one spoke.
Margaret finally bent and picked up the two bread rolls she could reach.
She placed them back in the grocery bag.
“There’s another one under there,” she said, looking toward the dresser.
Nobody moved to get it.
“What happens now?” Evan asked.
Margaret straightened.
“Nothing happens now.”
Evan looked at her.
“We have an appointment tomorrow.”
Laura’s head turned.
Margaret’s did too.
“What appointment?”
“With Dr. Patel.”
“I canceled that.”
“I called back.”
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
“You had no right.”
“I made the original appointment. You canceled it without telling me.”
“It is my doctor.”
“Yes.”
“My appointment.”
“Yes.”
“My decision.”
“Yes.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed.
“You sound very agreeable while doing exactly what you want.”
Laura had no answer to that.
Evan leaned forward, forearms on his knees.
“What is the appointment for?”
“A medication review. Memory assessment. Whatever he thinks.”
Margaret gave a disgusted little shake of her head.
“You make it sound like an inspection.”
Laura looked at her.
“Last night you called me Susan.”
Margaret stopped.
Evan glanced at Laura.
“Who’s Susan?”
“Her sister.”
“My sister has been dead twelve years,” Margaret said.
“I know.”
“I know that.”
“I know you do.”
“Then don’t say it like I don’t.”
May you like
Evan closed his eyes.
Laura had watched mechanics diagnose his mood by the way he handled tools. When something frightened him, he became quiet and precise. When something frightened him badly, he cleaned.
