“Do you see your mom?” Lacee asks.
I scan the tables, wheelchairs, walkers, and white hair, looking for Mary. It’s kind of hard since the picture hanging on the wall in her house was probably taken fifteen years ago. A lot of aging can happen in fifteen years. Heck, I didn’t even have muscles fifteen years ago. I mean, I’m in a room full of elderly people that all have the same wrinkles. I feel like I am standing behind a glass window, trying to do a police lineup for my fake mom. They all look similar.
“There you two are.” Gina waves us over to the food tables. “We’re just about done serving the pot pies. Make yourself a plate and eat.”
Lacee frowns. “I’m sorry we’re late and didn’t help serve.”
“That’s okay.” Gina smiles at me. “The most important thing is that Park spends quality time with his mother. Have you seen her yet?”
“No.” I look over my shoulder, pretending to search, but I feel like I’m at a zoo looking at the penguins moving around. I know they’re all different, but I can’t tell you what their differences are.
“Oh, she’s right over there.” Gina points to the table next to the couch.
Mary’s sitting in a chair, staring off into space. An uneaten plate of food sits in front of her.
Yikes—she is old. But maybe that can play in my favor. Her silver hair is cut to her chin, and she’s wearing pink sweats. There’s no makeup or expression on her face. Just blank emptiness.
“Yep.” I gesture to her. “There’s Mom.”
“Let’s go say hi.” Lacee tugs me toward her.
It’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for. I just need to go for it.
I stand to the side of her. “Hi…Mom.” That word feels unnatural rolling off my lips—I don’t think I’ve ever said that phrase before.
Nothing happens.
I glance at Lacee, lowering my voice. “Maybe she’s tired. We should let her rest.” I turn to go, but Lacee grabs my arm, keeping me there.
“No, I’m sure she’ll want to see you.”
I clear my throat, tapping on Mary’s shoulder. “Hey...you.”
She stirs to life and glances up at us. Her wrinkly face presses into a frown. “What do you want?”
“I…we,”I point to Lacee, hoping to put some of the heat on her, “wanted to come say hi.”
Lacee’s face lights up, and she leans over, so she’s closer to Mary. “Hi, Mrs. Bradshaw. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Park’s friend Lacee.”
“Who’s Park?” Her forehead creases together, but since she no longer has eyebrows, I can’t necessarily tell if theyfurrow.
“Your son,” Lacee says.
“I don’t have a son named Park,” Mary snaps.
Yep, this is exactly how I saw this entire scene playing out.
My eyes dart to Lacee, and I lower my voice. “She has dementia.”
“I have dementia?” Mary’s voice rises.
Lacee smiles at me. “I think her hearing is just fine.”
“Yes, it appears to be,” I mutter.
“I don’t have dementia.” Mary waves the diagnosis away with the flip of her hand. “My mind is as solid as a rock. Ask me anything.” Her eyes dart to Lacee.
“Uh,” Lacee looks at me. “What’s your name?”
