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“Toby and Miles were so close, even though Miles was a few years older. They still did everything together. And then he was just gone. I wasn’t a good mother for Miles after that, and I think he blamed himself for what happened to Toby, even though it was my fault.”
The pieces of the puzzle fall into place, and I appreciate even more how difficult this must be for Miles. To be back in this house where his family fell apart. To see his mother’s mind failing her, to have her slipping in and out of the present and back into the past from one moment to the next, with no understanding of what triggers it or how and when it got so bad.
I want to offer comfort, to give her some peace. I empathize with her on so many levels. And for Tabitha, she not only lost her son, but her entire family. And now she only remembers them in short blips of time. It seems as though there hasn’t been closure for anyone in this family. They’ve been suspended in their grief, holding on to it, letting it grow. And the weeds of sorrow have spread out and blanketed them. Covered over the good memories, leaving behind only choking vines of pain.
I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve unwittingly done the same.
I cover her hand with mine and squeeze. But before I can say anything else, the front door opens. “Kitty? Mom?” Miles calls out.
“We’re in the kitchen,” I reply.
Tabitha’s head lifts, and the clarity I saw in her eyes a moment ago is no longer there. Instead, it’s replaced with a fog, as if those vines of memories have choked out reality again and replaced it with the past. “Oh! Toby’s home from school! I’m so glad you get to meet him.” She smiles as Miles appears in the doorway.
He looks frazzled, and his usually neatly styled hair is in disarray, as if his fingers have been in it. Or he got caught in a freak tornado that was only big enough to tousle his hair.
His gaze bounces between his mother, me, and the cups of tea on the table. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“It’s so good that you’re home. And just in time to meet Miles’s friend. Her name is Kitty. Is your brother with you, or does he have after-school activities today?”
Miles’s smile falters fractionally, and his throat bobs with a heavy swallow. His voice is unsteady when he says, “I’m Miles, Mom.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course. You always look so much alike.” Her brow furrows. “Where’s Toby?”
“He’s not here.”
“Did he go to a friend’s house?”
Miles bites the inside of his lip, maybe debating whether he should be honest. “Yeah, he did.”
“Oh, okay. I don’t remember him telling me that before he went to school.” She strokes Prince Francis, her lips pursed.
Eventually, Miles convinces her that they need to go for a drive. I can tell he’s struggling with the lies, but that the truth could upset her.
“I can come along if you’d like,” I offer quietly as Tabitha gets ready to leave.
He hesitates and clears his throat before he says, “You don’t need to do that.”
I put a hand on his arm. “I’d like to, if you’d like me to.”
His jaw works for a few seconds before he nods once. “Yeah. Please. That would be great.”
chapter seventeen
KITTY COMFORT
Miles
Kitty sits in the back seat while my mother sits in the front. She insisted that we bring Prince Francis along. I’ve never had him in a car before, so I pop an antihistamine to counteract any potential issues being in such a confined space with a cat may cause. On the upside, if I end up having a reaction, I have an EpiPen and there are lots of medical professionals where we’re going.
When my mom realizes we’re at the hospital again, she becomes agitated, and it takes a team of staff to get her out of the car and back to her room. All the while, she yells at me, telling me I’m taking her away from her home and that I’m only doing it because I blame her for what happened to Toby.
Kitty stays in the car with Prince Francis, which is preferable to having her witness more of my mom’s meltdown once they get her through the doors. And even though I know it isn’t her fault that she reacts this way, it’s painful to watch.
Eventually they manage to calm her down. I return to the car and find Kitty has moved to the front. Prince Francis is in one of his favorite places: draped across her shoulders.
I drop into the driver’s seat. “I’m sorry about this.”
She squeezes my arm. “You don’t need to be sorry. Would you like me to drive?”
“I’m okay.” I feel the opposite of okay.
