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Chase scoffs. “Hardly.”
“Mhmm… Keep telling yourself that.”
The silence settles over us once again as I lift the mug and take a tentative sip of my tea. Shadow appears from the hallway, and with one look at her, Chase walks toward the back door. His limp was always more noticeable late at night after he’d been upand about the whole day. Shadow slips outside, and Chase turns to face me.
“I think we should talk about Mom.”
My stomach sinks at the firm tone in his voice, and I can feel the bile rise in my throat. “What about Mom?”
“I think we should look into a more permanent solution.”
I’m shaking my head before he can even finish the sentence. “That’s not…”
“Becky.” Chase places his hand on mine, my brother’s green eyes staring into me. “I know this is hard for you, but Mom’s not well, and she’s not…”
“You don’t know anything!” It takes everything in me to keep my voice level as I pull my hand out of his grasp. If the situation was different, I’d celebrate the fact that my brother willingly reached out to me, but I hate the direction in which this conversation was going. “You weren’t here, Chase. I was.” My fingers clench around the cup so tightly my knuckles turn white. “You didn’t have to deal with any of it.Idid. The mood swings, the tantrums, the confusion, the uncertainty… I was here for all of it. I covered for her, I forced her to go to the doctor, and I was the one who didn’t give up until we had an answer. So don’t you dare come back and try to boss me around and tell me what’s best for us. Don’t you…” A hiccup breaks out of me, so I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to stop a new one from coming.
Chase just sits there and watches me, completely calm.
“I know that. I know that me leaving put a bigger burden on your shoulders, and you had to deal with all of it on your own. But you’re not alone any longer. Let me help.”
I let out a shaky breath. I knew he was right, but I’d been dealing with everything on my own for so long I didn’t know how to let go. I didn’t know if Icould. Because what would happen if he left again? No, if the last few years have taught meanything, it’s that there is only one person I can rely on—myself.
“The work isn’t an issue, it’s just… I don’t think I can put her in an institution. It would feel like I’m giving up on her. I—” I shake my head, unsure of how to explain this.
Yes, taking care of Mom was hard. There was no denying it. It wasn’t even the fact that most days she didn’t remember me, although I couldn’t deny that it hurt every time it happened. It was other things. How even the smallest of things would get her annoyed and frustrated. How stubborn she’d become when she set her mind on something. Like getting out of the house and going in search of Dad.
“We’re not giving up on her.” Chase shifts in his seat, the loud screeching of the chair snapping me out of my thoughts. “I’ve mentioned it to my doctor, and she suggested putting her in a facility that deals with people with Alzheimer’s and how that might be the best thing for her. She’ll be surrounded by specialists, receiving the best care, and being monitored twenty-four-seven, but more than that, she’ll be surrounded by people just like her.”
“I get that. I really do, but they don’t know her like we do.”
“But do we really know her?” Chase challenges. “We know our Mom, but we don’t really know the woman she becomes when she forgets the last twenty-plus years.”
“I…” I run my hand over my face. “Let me think about it, okay?”
“Do that.” Those serious eyes meet mine. “You deserve to be happy, Becs.”
“I’m not the only one.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MIGUEL
It doesn’t matter. I blame myself enough for both of us.
Becky’s words still ring in my head long after I’m lying in bed. I keep tossing and turning, the events of the previous day playing in my head on repeat.
I still couldn’t believe that she suspected something was wrong, even back when we were together, but she didn’t tell me a word of it. Not even a hint that something might be going on with her mom or that she was worried.
Just the thought made me irritated.
There I was, sharing everything with her—confessing my deepest, darkest secrets, telling her about my problems and fights with my family. I gave her my all, only to realize she never did the same. Not really.
Letting out a frustrated groan, I turn to the other side, punching my pillow with my hand as if a more comfortable pillow would help me sleep better. But I knew better than that. My gaze darts to the curtains, and I can see the first trace of light peeking through them. It was still early, before five, and the house was quiet, but I knew I wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon.
Turning to my back, I run my hand over my face before I toss the cover and get up.
If I’m not going to sleep, I might at least do something useful.
