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He hesitates. “Has she, uh…? I mean, the last time we talked, Lolly had been forgetting your name, so has that…?”
At the reminder, a sharp pang of sorrow hits me. Because, yeah, she has been forgetting my name for a while now…
…and there have been a couple of times when I wasn’t sure she even recognized my face.
I try to push that away, though, and summon my usual optimism. I’ve never found dwelling on life’s low points to be fruitful.
I manage a small smile for Robbie and Bill, who’s regarding me with a gentle look on his scruffy face. I decide not to mention my suspicions of Lolly’s memory fading further.
“Not really any improvement in the name department,” I say, “but it hasn’t gotten worse, either.”
Bill nods supportively and Robbie lets out a breath, looking a little relieved. “Well, that’s good, right?”
“Yeah, it’s good,” I agree.
But how long will it last?
Optimism aside, I know the truth: Lolly isn’t going to get any better. It’s been several years since the Alzheimer’s snuck in and it burrows deeper all the time—it didn’t help that Pop’s death dealt such a serious blow to her spirit. Since then, it seems like I’ve seen some degree of decline every week. And it’s not going to stop.
I clear my throat and turn raised eyebrows on Robbie. “Tall Guinness?” I offer.
He points at me and then opens his hand upward. “But of course.”
During the week, the day shift is usually slow; I’m nearing the middle of my eight-hour one, so we’re pretty dead. I finish all of my side work and easily alternate talking with Robbie and serving our couple of other patrons. He and I talk about the landscaping business he has built with his younger brother, as well as whether or not our friend Matt will come out with us tomorrow night. Matt’s always had this way special thing going with Ivy, who was his high school sweetheart and is now his wife, and he’s not always up for hanging out with us.
We talk with Bill some more, too. We hear about Abby getting bitten by a bunch of ants at school yesterday, and we discuss what gaming console twelve-year-old Austin would like for his birthday, which is in a couple months. I’ve always been a Nintendo kind of guy, but PlayStation has its perks. Robbie has loved the Xbox since its original launch, though, so we really don’t end up offering Bill any help because we can’t agree on shit.
A bit before 5, business starts picking up and Robbie leaves with a promise to holler at me tomorrow after I get off work. The late shift bartender, who we call Hulk because he’s built as hell, comes in soon after. We slap hands and exchange greetings, then settle in for the little while we have together before I clock out.
That time passes quickly and pretty uneventfully. Then, with a hello message from Bill to pass along, I’m off to see my grandma.
She lives in Quiet Springs because I can’t take care of her by myself. It’s a nice place. There’s always a game night or movie-and-snacks party or holiday festivity going on. The staff is caring and friendly. The worst part is Lolly has no real privacy, but that would still be true if she lived with me. Between the effects of her stroke and the progression of her Alzheimer’s, she can’t really go without supervision.
I do wish she could still enjoy the amenities of home, though. I know how much she loved having a huge Christmas tree and turning her favorite movies up loud and cooking anything she wanted, whenever she wanted it.
But she’s still got me around—I visit her every evening.
I’m extra excited to see her today. Yes, the changes in her behavior have been rough, but she’s still herself about half the time, and since she was short-tempered yesterday, today should be better. So I want to tell her about my eye-opening choking incident…and maybe I’ll even talk a little bit about the girl who saved me. Lolly would like hearing about Liv and her niece.
When I arrive, I’m greeted by Rosie, the lady at the front desk. “Hello, Landon, honey. How’s your day going?”
I stop and give her a wave. “It’s going just fine, ma’am. How about yours?”
Her smile isn’t as bright as I’ve ever seen it. “I’m doing all right.”
The way she pauses and regards me sympathetically says she’s got something unpleasant to tell me.
It doesn’t take me long to figure out what that something is: someone else’s day isn’t going very well.
Unable to hide my disappointment, I ask, “Is Lolly in a bad mood again?”
Her smile falters and she heaves a sigh. “She’s…in a bad moodstill.”
Dread drops onto my shoulders. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve only been here a couple hours, but Lisa told me when I got here that it’s been going on since you left last night.”
Shit.
