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Watching the woman who was strong while I was growing up deteriorate is gut wrenching.
“I don’t know what I did wrong,” she says, her gaze cast out over the patio. “To have raised two ungrateful children.”
Another squeeze of my hand. Another fight with tears burning the backs of my eyes and nose.
“Neither one of them have been to see me in years. I could have grandchildren I don’t even know about,” she continues.
The advice given by the nursing staff at the facility is to let her live in whatever world she’s currently inhabiting. Trying to convince her of who we are and what has happened to her is too stressful, and it could also lead to uncontrollable outbursts.
Maybe where she’s at in her head is better than reality. In her head, Janet is an ungrateful child, but she’s still alive. I’m the wild child that took off with a man and never looked back. It didn’t take long to understand her mind is thinking of the time I snuck out of the house to meet a high school boyfriend, something Vincent warned we’d talk about later as he tried to keep from smiling.
His jealousy, the way he looks at me as if I’m the only woman he’ll ever look at that way, means more to me than he’ll ever know. The man hasn’t faltered once.
We were in New Mexico for a little over a month before this trip back to St. Louis to move Mom. Vincent explained how it would be easier to keep the power of attorney with him until after the move because trying to transfer it to my name would cause delays. It was the first conversation that we had that didn’t leave me wondering if he was trying to manipulate me. I don’t know when I decided that I was going to trust him until he gave me a reason not to, but that confidence in him has made my life so much easier.
I’ve already begun to think of Farmington as home. It’s no longer the place we’ll be until it’s safe to come back to St. Louis. If it weren’t for Mom, I wouldn’t be here today.
To once again stay under the radar from Keres MC after they burned Janet and Carlen’s house down in retaliation for leaving town and not paying them what they felt was owed, we drove in two days ago and turned right back around almost immediately to drive back. It has been a grueling couple of days, but we were able to make the full trip to St. Louis in one go without the kids.
Because of Mom’s condition, we have stopped for the night at the midway point.
“Eugenia, did you want dessert?” the nurse asks, distracting my mom who looks down at her plate.
“No, dear. I think I’m ready for bed.”
I mouth athank youwhen the nurse helps Mom stand before turning her toward the restaurant exit. We’re in a hotel nicer than any one I’ve been in. Vincent suggested it because of the ease it provides with the restaurant right here. He said it would be best if Mom didn’t have to be loaded back up into the vehicle more than was necessary.
Mary, the nurse, has been a lifesaver, but I know she comes at a cost. Vincent hasn’t told me what the expense of this trip has been, and I have no plans of asking. I convinced myself at some point over the last month that the best way to pay the people back who have helped me is to offer help to them when I see a need for it. That seems to be the Cerberus way, even though those helping expect nothing in return. I’d never met so many selfless people until them.
“You going to be okay?” Vincent asks.
“I’ll be fine, Roger,” I tell him with a quick grin.
He chuckles. “Who is Roger anyway? She called me that the last time too.”
I shrug. “I have no idea.”
“Let’s go take a shower and get into bed. We have a long damn day tomorrow.”
He holds my hand out of the restaurant, in the elevator, and all the way back to the room. I soak up all the comfort he’s offering.
I know my mom’s illness is hard on her, and I feel utterly selfish for being upset with how hard it is on me too. I’m not feeling that way in an effort to discount what she’s going through but illness is hard on everyone. Watching her suffer hurts me and feeling like I’m not important enough in her life to be remembered claws at me like an angry tiger. She had no problem talking about my deadbeat dad. She can remember all sorts of things about him. At least this time she remembered she had two daughters but didn’t recognize me sitting right across the table with her.
Vincent urges me into the bathroom before pulling at the hem of my shirt. He undresses me slowly before stripping down himself. The shower is slow and soothing with him washing and conditioning my hair before running his soapy hands all over my body.
The touching isn’t overtly sexual, but he must know that I’m exhausted. Despite his erection, he doesn’t try to push that agenda this evening.
He kisses my shoulders as the water washes away the suds.
He’s quick and efficient with his own shower, stepping out before me to grab a towel.
After we’re dried, we don’t bother to get dressed, instead falling naked into the bed, and curling into each other.
“I’m afraid I’m going to lose you,” I confess into the darkness a few minutes later when my mind refuses to shut off. “I think I come with so much drama that you’re going to get tired of me and bolt.”
“I’d never do that.”
“My dad did,” I whisper into the darkness. “Two kids was too much for him.”
