Over the next couple of hours, I lost myself in the process of making the perfect vegetable and ricotta ravioli. I made and rolled out the pasta by hand, pureed the veg into a fluffy paste, and cooked the little parcels to a perfect al dente, smothering them in a brown butter and thyme sauce. I ate alone at the dining table, knowing the only thing that could have made it better was if I’d been sharing it with Amy.
I was just doing the washing up when I heard a thump from the direction of Ethel’s bedroom, and my heart stopped. I was racing down the hall before I even realised I’d reacted, and I flung open her door to find her in a pile on the floor.
“I’m fine,” she insisted as I bent to help her up, clamouring to fend off her shooing me away so I could wrap my arms around her torso.
“You sure?” I asked, getting her upright and then sitting her down on the bed, watching how she bent and where she placed her weight. She grimaced slightly as she sank into the mattress, but she didn’t seem to be compensating as far as I could tell.
“Yes,” she insisted, waving me off again. I took a couple of steps back so she wouldn’t get overwhelmed and flipped on the light.
“Maybe we should put some of these lights on sensors so they turn on when you get up,” I said, looking around. “The doctor told me shadows can mess with your depth perception.”
“I said I’m fine,” she said again, louder this time, and I could tell she was getting agitated. She’d been moodier lately, and I knew it was a symptom, and she was feeling more and more lost in her own mind. But it still felt frustrating, given everything I was doing. How hard I worked to try to keep her safe. I had to breathe deeply for a moment so I didn’t snap at her. She didn’t deserve that.
I took out my phone and made a note to mention this at her physio appointment on Tuesday. It was better safe than sorry, right?
“What were you getting up for?” I asked. “Can I help you?”
“I just needed some water,” she said, pointing at her bedside table where I always left her a glass. I realised only then it had been knocked over, and the water had spilt all over the wood and carpet. I rushed out for a towel, then knelt down to soak up as much as I could. As I picked up the glass, I saw it now had a large chip in the rim. I supposed I’d need to start giving her plastic instead of glass, though I already knew she’d complain that she didn’t like drinking out of it. Maybe I could get her some of those cups made of the nicer, thicker, heavier plastic.
Once I’d found the chipped piece amidst the carpet piles, I went to get her another drink. I braced myself for her to complain about the plastic novelty cup I’d bought at the Ren Faire last year, but she just drank the water down greedily, not noticing what I’d served it in.
“Are we seeing that beautiful lady of yours tomorrow?” she asked as she finished.
“Yep, Amy’s going to pick us up around three in her big car, so you don’t have to ride in mine, and we’ll go back to hers for dinner.” I wondered if I should cancel, but I figured I could make that decision in the morning based on how she seemed.
Ethel frowned, and I thought maybe she didn’t like the Defender as much as I’d thought. But as I tucked her in, she looked up at me, and I could tell as I met her gaze that things weren’t quite right.
“Amy?” she asked. “I thought you were going out with Ellen?”
It felt like all the blood drained from my body at once. I’d known it was only a matter of time; everyone who’d known my dad told me how much I looked like him, and I’d known Ethel’s memory would only get worse. But it was the first time she’d ever mistaken us.
I tried to remember what the doctor had recommended for when this happened– I knew I wasn’t supposed to correct her, but I wasn’t supposed to pretend to be him, I didn’t think.
“We’re seeing Amy tomorrow,” I said, “but I can try to find some pictures of Ellen if you’d like.”
“No pictures,” she said. “Have her come by. I miss her.”
“Yeah, me too,” I said, blinking back the tears forming in my eyes. I didn’t want to upset her more. “Night, Ethel.”
“Goodnight, Michael.”
I left her light on and closed her door gently, pretty sure she was already asleep by the time I made it out of the room. I walked past the mess I’d been tending to in the lounge and straight to the front door, where I opened it quietly and perched on the threshold, the metal cold against my bare feet.
I reached out and touch the greenery-covered branches of the hawthorn tree, the flowers long gone to the summer heat, and the tears finally tumbled down my cheeks and soaked into my beard.
“I can’t do this,” I said quietly to my parents. “I’m not meant to be doing this alone. Not now.”
It wasn’t fair. Surely I’d reached my quota for hardship when my parents had been taken from me. But yet here I was, without them, at the ripe old age of twenty-nine, unable to manage even a part-time job and a fake relationship around caring for my grandmother. My whole life was about getting from one day to the next, despite knowing that things were only going to get worse. And if what I’d built my life around deteriorated, if the person I orbited around stopped existing in the way she always had, what did that mean for me?
But I didn’t have a choice. I had to do it, preciselybecauseI was alone. Because I was the last line of defence.
This was why I hadn’t let myself get serious with anyone since Ethel’s diagnosis. I just didn’t have the emotional bandwidth; I wasn’t capable of holding it together. It was like I could only do one thing well at a time, and if things were going well in my love life, fake or not, they weren’t going well with Ethel. And Ethel was the only family I had left, so I had to put her first, no matter the cost. I knew that.
Except now I had something valuable I wasn’t so sure I was willing to part with.
Chapter15
Yorick Proudhollow
