AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Just one moment. Let me call her room. May I have your names, please?”
“I’m Derrick, and this is Gia.” Derrick motioned to his right, where Gia bit her lip and hoped this worked.
???
“Gia and Derrick?” The gentle voice asked. Its owner was a middle-aged woman in beige scrubs, with a rainbow pin on her sleeve and kind eyes.
“Yes,” they answered in unison.
“Hi, I’m Paige. I’m Emily’s daytime caregiver. I’m so glad you made it.”
She was?
“You are?” Gia asked.
“Oh, yes. It’s great for her to have visitors. Lifts her spirits, at least for a while. She doesn’t get many since her brother passed last year. He used to come every day, and now—well, a niece and her family visit occasionally, and a friend from time-to-time. She’s quite social, but doesn’t get enough interaction.”
“I’m so sorry to hear about her brother.” Gia stuffed her hands in her pockets and looked at Derrick. What next?
“So, before we go back,” Paige looked at Gia, then Derrick, “you should know, she may or may not track what you’re saying. Her long-term memory is usually good. You’d be amazed what she can tell you about nineteen-sixty-three, or seventy-three, even eighty-three—most days. But she may ask you to repeat yourself. She may disengage while you’re speaking or return to something she’s already said. I just wanted to prepare you for the situation. I read her your letter—I hope she engages with you.”
The butterflies in Gia’s stomach came alive when Paige said she’d read the letter. They weren’t sneaking into some unsuspecting woman’s room. The plan was working. The caregiver was glad they were there. Were they doing Emily afavor? That may have been taking it too far, but it would be rewarding if it were true.
“Are there any topics that are off limits?” Derrick asked. He’d told Gia on the drive that his grandfather had Alzheimer’s and he’d learned to avoid triggers. It was better for everyone that way.
“Excellent question.” Paige looked around—for Emily, perhaps?—and then to them again. “I’d steer clear of her brother. She asks for him every day and gets angry that he’s not visiting. She can’t remember he’s passed. She may try to tell you about her botched Olympic tryouts for figure skating—that gets her agitated, too. It’s not true, best I can tell, but that one comes up a lot. If it does, try to change the subject, okay? And—” Paige continued with instructions about avoiding current events and politics from any time period, particularly the Reagan era. “I can’t think of anything else. She’s a lovely woman. So sad, as it always is, when this evil disease sets up shop. If you need me, there’s a phone on her nightstand that pages me.”
A phone to page Paige. If she wasn’t freaking out, that would be amusing. Instead of being amused, she looked at Derrick for comfort. If there was ever a “what are we getting into” look, it was exchanged by Gia and Derrick as they took in the parameters of their impending conversation. Not that they planned to talk about the Reagan administration, but Paige’s guardrails made it real—Emily had Alzheimer’s. She wouldn’t magically be herself or be cured because of the mention of a past lover.
“Are you ready to head back?” Paige asked.
More nods.
“Alright, let me take you to Emily.”
“Actually, I have one question,” Derrick stopped next to a plexiglass frame with the name Emily Mitchell in it. “I don’t know if you can tell us this, but can you confirm we are about to meet Emily Lorrainne Mitchell, originally of Burbank? I’d hate this to be the wrong person!”
“She is.” Paige smiled.
“And she’s eight-seven?”
“She is.”
“Did she acknowledge our friend Jennifer? I’m curious, if she remembers her,” Gia piled on.
“The day I read your letter, she had a vague recollection of someone named Jennifer, in her twenties,” Paige said. “I didn’t ask specifics, but I believe she knows your friend.”
“Whew.” Gia blew a big breath out and stood straighter. “Thank you, Paige. You’ve been so kind and helpful. We really appreciate it.”
“My pleasure.” Paige rapped her knuckles on a metal door—beige. “Knock-knock! You have some lovely visitors, Ms. Mitchell. Can we come in?” Paige’s voice was pleasant, her tone an octave higher when she interacted with her patient, much like an elementary school teacher interacting with a student.
“Come in,” came the reply, in matching singsong.
Gia grabbed Derrick’s hand. It was shaking, too. If she were honest, Gia thought it would be impossible to find Emily—a wild goose chase for a needle in a haystack, and all the other idioms pertaining to attempting to locate something difficult to locate. Too many factors were stacked against them, including her advanced age and the improbability that she’d never changed her name. And there they were, almost a month after she’d had the idea to track down Jennifer’s past—about to face it.
“Ready?” Derrick squeezed her hand.
“It’s now or never. Let’s go.”
