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I unlock the door for her and usher her inside, the nurse aide following.
My mother walks down the short hall and steps into the small living room area. The whole space is less than a third of the size of her house, but it should be much more manageable for her. She crosses the room and stops in front of the bookshelf. It’s next to the lounger. She trails her fingers along the trinkets—the ones we were able to save from Prince Francis’s twitchy paw.
She picks up one of the framed photos. It’s of her, me, and Toby, taken probably a year before he died and things fell apart. She looked happy. We all did.
She stands there for a moment, just staring at the picture, and I worry that I shouldn’t have put it there. That it’s the thing that’s going to tip her over the edge. That she’ll get angry and have a meltdown.
She turns to me and gives me a small smile, her eyes soft and watery. “Did you do all of this, Miles?”
I slip a hand in my pocket and nod, trying to hide my surprise that she remembers I’m me. “I had some help from a few friends.”
“It looks . . . familiar.” She sets the picture back on the shelf and crosses the room. Her eyes are clear, like she’s here with me in this moment and not floating in the past. She gives me a tremulous smile. “Thank you. I know I’m lost in my head a lot of the time and that I forget so many things, but I want you to know that I love you, Miles. And I’m sorry I forgot how to be a mother when you needed me the most. I didn’t know how to deal with the hole I created in our family.” She wraps her arms around me, and I swallow down the emotions, folding her into a hug.
“We all lost ourselves for a while when we lost Toby. I’m sorry I didn’t go outside with him when I should have,” I tell her.
“It was never your fault, Miles. It was my job to be watching, not yours. I’m sorry I’m going to forget this. I wish my mind was still mine.”
“It’s okay, Mom. It’s not your fault. And I love you, too. And I’ll keep telling you, no matter how many times you forget.”
chapter twenty-two
CAT-TASTIC PARTY
Kitty
So I know this is probably last minute, and it isn’t the dinner date I keep promising I’m going to take you on, but uh . . . one of the guys on the team decided to throw a Halloween party, and I wondered if maybe you’d be interested in coming. It’s okay if that’s not your thing, and you can say no, but I figured I’d throw it out there. No pressure.” Miles sounds nervous, and I bet that if I could see him, I’d see him fidgeting with something. Probably a pen.
I’m currently standing on the screened-in back porch, trying to get Prince Francis to stop impersonating Spider-Man. He’s splayed out on the window screen, desperate to get to the squirrel sitting on a tree branch less than fifty feet away. The squirrel is clearly taunting Prince Francis, and while it’s somewhat hilarious, I don’t want to replace any more screens.
It’s a real conundrum, because Prince Francis loves it out here on the porch, but that squirrel has been playing hide-and-seek with him since he moved in last week.
“A Halloween party?”
Hattie, who is sitting in one of the chairs, sipping coffee and reading for one of her courses, looks up from her textbook and starts mouthing things at me.
I ignore her.
“Yeah. It’s a costume party. I guess it’s mandatory to dress up. Apparently, last year anyone who didn’t got slimed.”
“Slimed?”
“Well, it wasn’t actual slime, but it was neon foam. And it stained people’s skin until they showered. Or maybe it took a few days for the green to wear off. I’m sure there are pictures on social media about it. I’m not really doing a very good job of selling this, am I?”
“But if I wear a costume, I don’t have to worry about the whole neon foam slime situation?”
“No. Not if you wear a costume. Does this mean you’re interested in coming?”
“Sure. I think it sounds fun.” And I’d like to see Miles with his colleagues. His friend Josh is nice, and while Parker has more energy and ego than I’m used to, Austin was down to earth.
“Great. Okay. That’s awesome. I’ll pick you up at eight on Saturday.”
“Should we coordinate our costumes?” I ask.
“Hmm. Maybe. I hadn’t thought of that. Do you have any suggestions?”
Hattie starts waving her hands around in the air.
“Let me think about it, and I’ll get back to you? Or maybe you have an idea?”
