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“Just be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt again. She’s not back for good. I hear the chatter firsthand about her and The MC Band. They’re going somewhere.”
“Yeah, but here you are, in the music industry and living here in Mason Creek.”
He nods. “True, but I don’t perform the songs on that big of a stage having to travel everywhere. I write them and get to stay right here in Mason Creek. Big difference. She has to physically be places I don’t.”
I take a sip of my beer as I let everything he said sink in. I’ve been so happy to have her back that I didn’t want to think about anything else.
He notices my change in attitude and places his hand on my knee. “I didn’t mean to spoil your good mood. Just be careful, all right? Be prepared for when she has to leave again.”
I nod and am thankful when Emily comes out to tell us lunch is ready.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
Hannah
“I know you have some things going on with your mom, and we respect that, but if you guys are going to make it, we need you to go on a radio tour,” our rep from the record label says to me over the phone twenty minutes into our conversation that seems to be going round and round, getting more frustrating by the second.
He keeps on telling me how amazing the single is doing. I should be celebrating, but all I hear is, I have to leave Mason Creek.
We’ve been here for a few weeks. I know every word of what he’s saying is true, but I just don’t see how I can possibly make everything happen.
“I’m sorry that this isn’t the best timing, but I’ll talk to the guys,” I reply.
“Don’t talk. Get your asses on a plane and get here.” His tone changes. “Now!”
I pause and inhale a sharp breath.
“We’ve all put too much money into this deal to throw it all away right out of the gate.”
I rub my eyes, knowing he’s right, but having no clue what to do.
“Okay,” I finally say because I have to say something.
“I’m sending you plane tickets for tomorrow. I’m sorry, but that’s all the time I can buy you.” He doesn’t even wait for my response and hangs up.
I walk out of my room, only to see my mom on the floor again, rearranging the cupboard. I’ve given up on trying to stop her. There’s no point.
In the research I’ve done, I’ve read this is very normal behavior. If someone with dementia is a mortgage broker, give them fake loan docs to fill out. If they are a homemaker, have them fold towels. I even read where a facility would have a woman fold towels for all the residents. Then, when she would go deliver the first set, they would unfold them all just for her to start again. It’s a muscle memory thing for them as well as a comfort mechanism.
To me, it’s just heartbreaking to watch.
“Hey, Mom?” I say over the counter.
She turns to look at me in question.
Seeing her there, staring at me, knowing it’s my mom, but also knowing deep down that the mom I know and love isn’t there anymore really breaks me down.
“I’m heading out. I’ll be back in a little while,” I say as I grab the keys to her car.
“Okay, just make sure you clock out before you leave.” She waves me off and gets right back to her work.
I take a deep breath and start to laugh to myself. Sometimes, I swear, it’s the only thing I can do to make it through the day.
I call the guys and ask to meet at Trent’s parents’ house since it’s kind of the middle ground for all of us even though Mason Creek isn’t really any bigger than a few square blocks to begin with.
Within a few minutes, we’re all getting out of our cars and heading to Trent’s porch, where he’s set up with his feet on the railing and a Mason jar in his hand, drinking Lord knows what.
I’m actually surprised the guys are still here. Trent’s and Cole’s girlfriends already flew back home because they have jobs they had to get to, yet here they are, living it up in good ole Mason Creek with their parents.
