A small foldout chair sat near the bed with a blanket over it.
The woman looked toward us.
Her eyes moved from me to Claire.
Then to Eleanor.
She smiled suddenly.
“Red.”
Mom froze.
The woman pointed toward Eleanor’s dress.
“Pretty red.”
Eleanor swallowed.
“Thank you.”
Adrian moved beside his mother.
“Mom, this is Eleanor.”
His mother frowned.
“Who?”
He picked up a picture card.
There was a photograph of my mother.
I stared.
Underneath it, in large handwritten letters:
ELEANOR. ADRIAN’S FRIEND.
His mother studied the card.
Then Mom.
Then smiled.
“The garden lady.”
Eleanor covered her mouth.
Adrian looked as though he wanted the floor to open beneath him.
“She remembers pieces.”
Mom sat beside the bed.
“Hello.”
The woman reached toward the red fabric of Eleanor’s sleeve.
“You’re pretty.”
“So are you.”
That earned a delighted laugh.
Adrian stepped into the hallway.
We followed a minute later.
He leaned against the wall.
“My mother has dementia.”
Nobody spoke.
He continued:
“It started several years ago.”
“She lived with me until last winter.”
“Then she began wandering at night.”
“She once left the house at two in the morning because she thought she needed to pick me up from elementary school.”
His voice cracked.
“We moved her here because I couldn’t keep her safe alone.”
Mom asked:
“Why seven-thirty?”
Adrian looked toward his mother’s room.
“She gets worse after sunset.”
“Sundowning.”
“She becomes frightened.”
“Sometimes she thinks she’s forty.”
“Sometimes she thinks my father is still alive.”
“Sometimes she doesn’t know me.”
“But for whatever reason, around eight o’clock she starts asking whether I’m coming home.”
“So I promised her I’d be here before then whenever I could.”
Eleanor whispered:
“Every night?”
“Almost.”
“What about work?”
“I rearranged it.”
“I do most of my later calls from here.”
My mother stared.
“So the Singapore client…”
“Real.”
“The plumber?”
Adrian winced.
“Not real.”
Despite everything, Claire made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob.
Mom folded her arms.
“And the neighbor with the medication?”
“Also invented.”
“Adrian.”
“I know.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“I know how ridiculous it sounds.”
“Why?”
Eleanor’s voice sharpened.
“Why not just tell me your mother needed you?”
Adrian did not answer.
Mom stepped closer.
“Did you think I’d resent her?”
“No.”
“Did you think I’d ask you to choose?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
He looked at her.
“My last relationship ended because of this.”
Silence.
He continued:
“She was kind at first.”
“Then my mother moved in.”
“The confusion got worse.”
“Meals interrupted.”
“Plans canceled.”
“Sometimes Mom accused her of stealing things.”
“Sometimes she woke up screaming.”
“My partner lasted seven months.”
“One night she said she had not signed up to spend the rest of her life competing with an old woman who didn’t even know who she was.”
Eleanor’s face softened.
Adrian continued:
“She left.”
“I don’t blame her for not being able to do it.”
