Chris
Can you spot me $25? I’m good for it this time.
Rolling my eyes, I swipe away from the text without bothering to respond.
Next, I see a voicemail from Morningside I missed. While the students work, I retreat to the hall to listen.
“Josie, this is Nurse Noel. Your grandmother has had some ups and downs today. I think it’d be a nice idea if you could pop in for a visit this afternoon. It’d do her some good.”
And suddenly, that warm glow is extinguished, replaced by reality. I simply have too many responsibilities. My focus should be on my kids, my grandmother, and my job. They deserve that from me. I have no business getting distracted by Tyler. That voicemail was the reality check I needed. Squaring my shoulders, I step back into the classroom, take the free write and put it in the recycle bin for the custodian to empty later.
Once the ArtStrong class ends, I gather my belongings, and with one last lingering glance at the recycle bin, I hook my tote bag over my shoulder, flip the light switch off, and head outside to my car. Mawmaw needs me, then I can get home and eat dinner with my kids.
“Mawmaw?” I say, quietly entering. The family photos I’ve hung strategically on her walls—a futile effort to keep her present memories intact—stare back at me as I survey her room. My grandmother’s form is relaxed, sitting in the chair nearest the large window she spends her days looking out.
She looks up, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head, trying to place me. Each time this happens, the pain in my chest is almost unbearable. Watching the person who raised me, the only mother figure I’ve ever known, look at me like I’m a stranger. Well, that right there is its own kind of torture.
Slowly, I move further in, and her face lights up.
“Evelyn!” she exclaims. “I’ve been wondering when you’d come back.” Evelyn was her sister who passed away at least ten years ago. All my life, Mawmaw has said I’m the spitting image of her. My shoulders fall in disappointment when I hear the name today, though. I hate this disease that’s ripping me from my grandmother’s memories. When she looks at me, I want her to light up because it’s Josie, her granddaughter.
It’s a selfish thought, I know. What must it be like, moving in and out of reality and time, sometimes completely aware of your surroundings, and other times frightened? And for these reasons, and because the nurses always remind me to go along with whatever reality she’s in at the moment, today I’m Evelyn, and she’s my sister Martha.
“Hey, Martha!” I say, summoning a smile with fake cheeriness.
“Come sit with me.” Mawmaw pats the arm of the chair next to her. “I’ve been watching for hummingbirds, but haven’t spotted one yet. Maybe your eyes are sharper.”
I take a seat and peer out at autumn trees, full of amber and gold tipped leaves, where anyone without memory loss would see it’s not hummingbird season. Quietly, I pretend to scan the view for any sight of a ruby-throated hummingbird.
Around Singing River, Mawmaw was known for her garden full of hummingbird feeders. Like clockwork, the tiny birdswould appear in the spring, spend their days flitting around Mawmaw’s backyard, before making their journey south in the late summer.
She’s still gazing out the window, so I take a moment to examine her from the corner of my eye. I know the nurses here take good care of her, but still, I’d never want something to slip past any of us. Her hands, veiny and spotted with age, lie clasped on the crocheted blanket draped across her lap. Her nails are neatly trimmed and her clothes are unwrinkled. The only thing that is heartbreakingly different is her hair. My grandmother dyed her hair at home, painting her gray to blonde, as far back as I can recall. And without fail, every Saturday she’d have it curled and set at the beauty shop. Now it lies stuck to her head in limp gray clumps.
“Quit your perusal, Evelyn. We both know you’re the better looking sister.” She turns, a teasing glimmer in her hazy blue eyes. Though it pains me, I return the smile.
We spend a short time making small talk about the comings and goings of Singing River. Despite not recognizing me, she’s clear minded as we discuss the ladies from her Sunday School class and what the preacher’s sermon was on last week. The nurses are always sure to pull it up online for her to watch. All the while, my heart is heavy as she remembers seemingly everyone but me.
When she begins bookending our conversation with frequent yawns, I decide it’s time to excuse myself and head home. I place a kiss to the top of her head, but as I’m pulling away, she wraps a frail hand around my own.
“Evelyn, if you see Jim outside, tell him to come on in and wash up. Josie’s little art show is tonight and I wanna get some supper in him before we go. He’s so proud of her and loves being the first to arrive.” Jim was my grandfather who passed away five years ago. Blinking back tears, I smile and nod.
The drive from Morningside to my house isn’t a long one, but it’s enough time for me to do what I always do when I need tohear recognition in my Mawmaw’s voice. I listen to one of the dozen voicemails I keep saved on my phone. When I hit play on my phone screen my eyes sting but still I smile hearing her voice.
“Josephine, I know you’re busy, but if it's not too much trouble, be a dear and pop in after work. I need help figuring out this blasted cell phone. I don’t know how you young folks manage this technology. I love you and I’ll see you this afternoon.”
After having such a good visit last week for Thanksgiving, I had high hopes for today. But I know her mind can turn on a dime. I’ve watched it happen countless times.
I turn onto my street and my heart picks up speed at the sight of the black Volvo parked along the edge of the grass. I’d totally forgotten Tyler was coming for their first tutoring session today. Lisa always sits at my house with my kids on my late days, and I didn’t even think to warn her. Surely Abby and Tyler both filled her in on the plan, though.
Jay dribbles his ball on the driveway, practicing free throws, so I park along the grass as well. Walking past him, Jay doesn’t glance my way, concentrating on his form as he shoots. It bounces off the rim, I catch it, and toss it back to him.
Heading inside, I toe off my shoes in the entryway. Smudge is running circles, excited to be the first to greet me. My gaze lands on a pair of large tennis shoes, sitting neatly amongst the rest of ours, and my traitorous heart tumbles back to that fairy tale in my classroom recycling bin.
Abby is finishing up a section on polynomials when the front door opens and closes. The low murmur of Jo and Lisa talking drifts from the living room, and I catch snippets of their conversation. I make out the words Mawmaw, memory, and in a strangled voice, I hear Jo tell Lisa that her Mawmaw didn’t know who she was. Penny has mostly caught me up to speed on the situation with Jo’s grandmother, and a pang of sadness shoots through me at what that must have felt like. Abby stiffens next to me, clearly hearing it all as well.
A few minutes later, Jo tells Lisa goodbye and she enters the kitchen. Her shoulders are tense and she flashes me a tight smile. I return the smile with one that I hope shows my empathy for what she’s going through with her grandmother.
Jo begins pulling ingredients from the fridge and putting pots and pans on the stove. Within a few minutes, the aroma of garlic and tomatoes wafts my way. From the corner of my eye, I see she’s not using store bought sauce or even a recipe. With steady focus, she chops herbs, tossing them into a pot of canned tomatoes. While that simmers, she begins a ground beef mixture, forming them into balls and placing them on a cookie sheet.
