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No, I didn’t think it was.
“Talk soon.”
With a quick goodbye, I disconnect the call. Just then, I spot a flash of silver. My heart speeds up, only to plummet to the bottom of my stomach when I do a double-take and realize it’s not Mom.
She’s going to be okay. She has to.
Miguel’s hand lands on my thigh, snapping me out of my thoughts. His touch is like a fire, burning through my layers and imprinting into my skin. “Tell me what’s going on, Rebecca. Why are you so worried about her?”
I let out a long breath. I might as well go and say it. It’s not like he won’t see it soon for himself. “She isn’t the woman you remember. She… She’s losing herself.”
“Losing…” He pulls his brows together, a confused look on his face.
“She was diagnosed with early on-set Alzheimer’s,” I explain, my gaze focused on the road.
The words feel heavy. It’s like all the air is sucked out of the small space, making it hard to breathe. It always felt that way when I said those words out loud. Like I was writing our death sentence. Although, in reality, it’s been written way before now, and nothing I did or said would ever change that. Because Alzheimer’s was precisely that—the worst kind of all death sentences.
Losing Dad was painful, sure, but at least it was quick. One day he was here, the next he was gone. This was different. Mom was as healthy as a woman in her fifties can be, but her mind was betraying her. It was a slow and painful death where you have to watch the person you love lose themselves bit by agonizing bit. Watch their blank stare as they forget you ever existed.
“Alzh—Fuck, Rebecca, why didn’t you say something?”
Why didn’t I—
My fingers sink into the leather of the steering wheel as I hold onto it for dear life. The anger boiling inside of me, mixing with the fear, so I just let it out. “You weren’t here, so I don’t see how this has anything to do with you,” I bite out.
Hurt flashes on Miguel’s face at my outburst, and I instantly feel shitty for saying those words out loud.
There were a lot of things to be angry at when it came to Miguel and me, but Mom’s disease didn’t have anything to do with him. On the contrary, really. He was a part of the reason why I hid it in the first place. Miguel had big dreams, and I wanted them to come true. I really did.
At first, I didn’t even know what was happening. I thought Mom was distracted or that her depression was acting up again.But as more little “accidents” started to happen, like Mom forgetting to pick up my brother from school, not remembering simple things and recent appointments, and even almost setting the kitchen on fire, I knew something was up. I just didn’t realize how hard it would be to get her to a doctor and get her the help she needed. Maybe if I was faster…
Don’t think that way,I chastise myself.
I knew better than to do it. There was no stopping this disease once it struck. No cure. Just waiting.
I knew I couldn’t leave my brother alone with her. So I did the only thing I could. I kept quiet and stayed home to take care of my family. If one of us had to give up our dreams, that person was me. What I didn’t count on was that giving up my dream would mean I’d lose Miguel in the process.
“You’re right. I wasn’t here.” Miguel just nods, turning his attention back to the road.
My throat tightens at the empty tone in his voice.
I knew that voice well because I used to be the one pulling him out of that state after his fight with his father.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Swallowing the lump, I force the words out, “Miguel, I…”
“Do you remember what she was wearing this morning?” He doesn’t allow me to finish before changing the subject, his voice completely cold and business-like.
Letting out a shaky breath, I weigh my options. I could try and apologize, but I knew it’d fall on empty ears.
So, instead, I decided to focus on what matters—finding Mom. Everything else could wait.
“Dark blue summer dress. Her hair is more gray than red these days, too.”
“Okay, any places where you think she might have gone to? Did she do something like this in the past?”
The suffocating fear I felt when she disappearedthe first time flashes in my mind. It was my senior year of high school, and I just got home from school to find the door to our house wide open. The water was running in the sink. I was already annoyed because my brother’s teacher called me since she couldn’t get a hold of my mother, and nobody came to pick up Matthew, so I had to do it instead.
