Chương 8
“What lines?”
“In the parking lot.”
Margaret stared through the windshield.
“They looked wrong.”
Laura’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel.
“All the white lines looked as though they were crossing each other.”
“When?”
“Just for a second.”
“Before you hit the cart corral?”
“Yes.”
“Did you feel dizzy?”
“No.”
“Did your vision change?”
“I don’t know.”
“We should call Dr. Patel.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
It was the first time she had agreed without an argument.
The evaluation appointment moved up after that.
A cancellation.
Tuesday at two.
The specialist spent nearly two hours with Margaret.
More tests followed.
There were questions about medications, sleep, mood, family history, daily tasks.
There was imaging.
There was more waiting.
The eventual explanation did not arrive like a verdict.
It came carefully.
There were signs of cognitive impairment beyond ordinary aging.
The doctor believed there was likely a progressive neurological process, though more follow-up would be needed to understand its pattern and cause.
There were also medication-management problems that might be worsening confusion.
Some things could be changed.
Some things might improve.
Some might not.
No one used the word Margaret feared until she did.
“Dementia,” she said.
The specialist paused.
“That is one possibility we are evaluating.”
Margaret laughed.
“Well. There it is.”
Evan leaned forward.
“Mom—”
She held up a hand.
“No.”
The doctor waited.
Margaret looked at Laura.
“You knew.”
Laura shook her head.
“I suspected something was wrong.”
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You looked at me like you knew.”
“I looked at you like I was scared.”
Margaret stood.
The doctor asked her to sit.
She refused.
“I am done for today.”
“Margaret—”
“I said I am done.”
Outside the clinic she walked past the elevators and headed for the stairs.
Evan caught up.
“Mom.”
She turned so abruptly he nearly collided with her.
“I am not moving into a home.”
“No one said you were.”
“You thought it.”
“No.”
“You always think loudly.”
Despite everything, Laura nearly laughed.
Evan did not.
Margaret pointed at him.
“I will not have strangers bathing me.”
“Mom.”
“I will not sit in a room watching television while somebody steals my jewelry.”
“That isn’t what anybody said.”
“It’s what happens.”
Laura stepped closer.
“Margaret.”
“No.”
“I’m not going to tell you nothing will change.”
Margaret’s face crumpled for a fraction of a second.
Laura continued softly.
“Because things are already changing.”
Margaret looked at her.
Laura touched the faded bruise along her own shin.
“We tried pretending they weren’t.”
Margaret’s eyes dropped.
That ended the argument.
Not because Margaret agreed.
Because she had no answer.
The practical problems arrived next.
Driving was over, at least for the foreseeable future.
Medication needed supervision.
Margaret could still cook, but everyone became nervous about the stove.
Bills needed monitoring.
She hated online banking.
She hated automatic payments more.
“People should have to physically experience the pain of giving money away,” she said.
Evan started checking her accounts with permission.
The first morning he did, he found three donations to the same charity in one week.
Margaret accused the charity of tricking her.
Then she found three thank-you emails.
She had made all three donations herself.
“They kept asking,” she said.
“You can say no.”
“I apparently said yes.”
“That’s the problem.”
She glared at him.
“Do not become smug. You once bought an exercise bicycle at two in the morning.”
“That was one time.”
“You used it twice.”
“I used it more than twice.”
Laura said, “Three times.”
Evan looked betrayed.
Margaret smiled.
The humor helped until it didn’t.
One afternoon Laura found Margaret standing in her kitchen holding a mug she had dropped.
It had shattered.
Margaret was barefoot.
“Don’t move,” Laura said.
“I know how glass works.”
“Then stop standing in it.”
Margaret looked down.
A tiny cut had opened beneath her heel.
Laura got a broom.
Margaret began crying before Laura had swept the first shard.
Not because of the mug.
“It was from Niagara Falls.”
Laura glanced at the broken pieces.
“I know.”
“Richard bought it.”
Evan’s father.
They had gone to Niagara Falls on their twentieth anniversary. Margaret had told the story so often Laura could picture the motel even though she had never seen it.
“We can glue it.”
“No.”
“Some of it.”
“No.”
Margaret sat at the table.
Laura swept.
After a while Margaret said, “I hit you.”
Laura stopped.
The broom bristles rested against the linoleum.
“You were confused.”
“I remember parts.”
Laura leaned the broom against the counter.
Margaret looked at her hands.
“I remember thinking you were someone else.”
“I know.”
“I remember being angry.”
“Yes.”
“I remember your face after.”
Laura sat down.
Margaret said, “You should have told him.”
“I know.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I mean it. I made you responsible for keeping me the person I wanted to be.”
Laura looked at her.
“That was not fair.”
“No.”
“You still agreed.”
“Yes.”
“So we are both idiots.”
Laura gave a soft laugh.
“Apparently.”
Margaret looked at the broken mug.
“Richard would have told Evan immediately.”
“Probably.”
“He was terrible with secrets.”
“I know.”
“He once told me about my own surprise birthday party because he was afraid I would schedule a dentist appointment.”
“That sounds like him.”
“He was very stupid.”
“You loved him.”
“Those facts can coexist.”
They sat in the kitchen for a while.
Then Margaret said, “I don’t want to forget him.”
Laura reached across the table.
Margaret pulled her hand away.
Not cruelly.
Just reflexively.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay.”
“No. I’m tired of people saying that.”
Laura waited.
Margaret stared at the wall.
“I keep thinking if I admit I’m frightened, everybody will use it as evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
“That I cannot handle my own life.”
“And can you?”
Margaret looked at her sharply.
Laura did not look away.
After a moment Margaret said, “Not all of it.”
That was the first real concession.
May you like
It changed more than any test result.
They began looking for help.
