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My mom has never spoken to me in that tone.
I blink a few times as she continues to work away on her project.
I think for a few seconds and lean down to her again, squatting down on the tips of my toes. “But, Mom, this isn’t work. This is our home. I think we should get you some rest.”
I place my hands on her again, and she pushes me away.
“Don’t touch me, you little bitch. I know you’ve wanted my job for years, but it’s mine. You can’t convince Alana that you’re better than me, so don’t even try.”
I stand up and stare at Matthew, who is wearing the same expression of confusion as I am.
He tilts his head toward the living room, and I follow him there.
“Is this the first time she’s acted like this?” he asks.
I hug my arms around my body and nod. “I’m not sure what’s going on.” I look at my watch, then back at Matthew. “I’m going to head to Dr. Carlson’s office. See if he has any suggestions.”
He places his hand on my arm. “Do you want me to go with you?”
I shake my head. “No. I know you have things to do. I got this.” I meet his eyes and melt into them. “Thank you. For everything.”
He wraps his arms around me, bringing me against him and holding me tightly. “I’m here for you. You know that.” He pulls back and kisses my lips. “You need anything, just let me know.”
I inhale a deep breath. “I will.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Matthew
I’m closing up when Hannah pulls up to the hitting barn. I slide the door shut and turn to face her, crossing my arms and leaning back against the door as she parks the car. I move to meet her, but she’s out of the car so fast that I stay back and wait for her to approach me.
“How’d it go?” I ask, reaching out my hand to her.
She instantly wraps her arms around me and holds me tight. I feel the intense emotions ready to pour out of her, so I curl her up in my arms, and she starts to cry.
We stay like this for a few minutes—me holding her and her crying into my chest. I don’t say anything because there’s nothing to say. It’s obvious she just needs me to hold her, and I’m happy I’m able to be there for her.
As her sobs subside, she wipes her face, and I kiss the top of her head.
“What’s the next step?”
She takes a few seconds, then says, “She can’t live alone anymore. He says we need to get her into a home, where they can monitor her.”
I hold her tighter, as I can’t imagine what it must feel like to have your mom going through this.
“How did I not know this was going on?” She sobs again.
I know nothing about the disease, so I’m not sure what to say.
Thankfully, she continues, “Dr. Carlson kept telling me unless someone with the disease is with other people all the time, it can be easy to miss, or people just dismiss the behavior as something else.” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “When I asked how people at her work didn’t notice, he said that can be pretty common, especially when she’s at the same job for so long. Everything is muscle memory. Her short-term memory is gone, but she can remember past events clear as day. So, the fact that she worked there so long helped her in her day to day tasks. She might think it’s ten years ago mentally, but what she’s doing there is still the same, so it doesn’t matter.”
She looks up to me. “I’m babbling. Sorry. Is this making any sense?”
I run my hand down her hair. “Actually, yes, it does. And that’s why she was doing her job at home.”
She places her head back on my chest, and I feel her nod. “They did their test on her mental capacity the other day, but it’s things like this that really tell us what stage she’s at.”
“Did you get the kitchen cleaned up?” I ask.
