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“I don’t want to be rude.”
“You can’t be rude,” she said.
“I just noticed today…”
She held out her hands. “Seems worse?”
“Yeah. Are there good days and bad?”
“I try not to define my days as either,” Demi said. “That just adds stress and qualifies them. Why do that? You can cut your finger and need a stitch or two and still eat a good meal and watch the sun set, right?”
“True.”
“I think everyone puts too much pressure on themselves to define everything in their life. Instead of just living it. Why define it good or bad? I don’t live that way.”
“I sure wish I could think like that.”
“I think you do already. More than you realize.” Demi got back to her feet. She took a breath. “You keep working on that painting of yours. I’m going to take a walk.”
“Where to?”
Demi stared.
“Sorry,” I said. “I just… today…”
“I have to walk to the pharmacy to get my medication. If you must know.”
“I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Sure you did.”
“Fine. I did. I wanted to pry. The thought of you walking around right now makes me nervous, Demi. You’ve been so good to me, why can’t I offer the same?”
“Meaning?”
“You get into my car and I drive you to the pharmacy. I help you get your medication. Then we come back here and keep painting and talking.”
I could tell Demi didn’t like favors being done for her.
A strong woman. Stubborn in the face of a tough disease in Parkinson’s.
Yet I saw the look in her eye.
She was not going to turn down help.
I offered my right hand. “Come on, Demi. We’ll go for a ride. And if you want to take a walk, we will. Together. We’ll walk somewhere fun. Not to a boring pharmacy.”
“I can live with that,” Demi said.
Her hand touched mine.
I helped her walk to my car.
I helped her into my car.
She put on her very large black sunglasses.
“You know, I had a nice collection of cars,” Demi said as I began to drive.
