We wove through the halls, heading toward my mother’s room side by side. I had thought things between us after that night would have been strained or awkward, but they weren’t. Thankfully. We had both been able to pretend nothing happened. Which was best all the way around.
“This is the last of it,” I announced to Emma as we walked into the room. Mom was sitting on the edge of her new bed, testing out its firmness. I wondered how she would react once we left, if she would go to the activity room and make friends, or if she would sit in here and sulk. I hoped she decided to make friends.
“Are you all settled in?” a nurse asked from behind me.
I shifted so she could see into the room. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Mrs. Montgomery, would you like me to give you a tour?” She smiled. There was something friendly about her. It wasn’t just her smile; maybe it was her voice. It was sweet, but without the overly fake tone. Genuine, it was a genuinely sweet voice that put you at ease.
“Sure. I’m ready for my vacation to start.” Mom didn’t even wave to us as she hurried from the room.
The three of us remained silent as the nurse looped her arm through Mom’s and turned back to us. “You can stay here and wait for us to get back, or you can leave. It’s up to you.”
I glanced at Emma. “What do you want to do?”
“I’ve already said my goodbye to her.” Her voice was riddled with emotion.
Dawson leaned over, and kissed her on the forehead. “You still okay with this?”
“Yeah.” Emma moved away from him, as though she didn’t want his touch. Her gesture didn’t faze him. He never seemed to give in to the coldness she showed him. My lips twisted into a frown, hating she was treating him this way, especially after all he had lost.
“I can come visit tomorrow,” I said. “We can go.” A deep level of guilt at leaving our mom here swirled through me. Maybe Emma was so cold and quiet because she was having a hard time with the idea as well. It felt as though we were saying our final goodbyes to her, like we had moved her into a place where it was okay to die.
As we made our way out of her room and toward the parking lot, we passed residents. Some were dressed in oversized sweatpants and sweaters, while others were dressed in clothes that actually seemed to fit. I wondered if any of them ever got to go home just before, or if their families had moved them here so they could die.
I reminded myself that wasn’t why we agreed to move Mom here. She wasn’t here to die; she was here because it had become too much on us to watch over her. The thought soured my stomach. Wasn’t that supposed to be our job as her children? How could we have dropped her off here?
“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” I asked Emma as we let ourselves out the main doors in the lobby area.
“Why wouldn’t it be? They have the capabilities of watching her around the clock. We don’t. Not anymore.”
“Does she really need ‘round the clock care though? I mean, she’s not that bad yet,” I argued. The idea of leaving her here seemed cruel to me. Mom wasn’t like some of the others here. She wasn’t that sick yet.
Yes, she had her days. She forgot who we all were more often than she remembered now, and we’d had a few issues every now and then, but did that mean we needed to send her to this place? Sunny Brook Cottages seemed like jail all the sudden.
“She’s only getting worse,” Dawson chimed in. “It’s best for her to be here, where she doesn’t have access to a real kitchen and can’t catch things on fire. She’ll be safe. It seems like a really good place.”
He was right. She was getting worse, and even though we had Carla to help during the day, nights were becoming hard with her. She didn’t sleep much, and there had been a few times when I had caught her trying to slip out of the house in the middle of the night. Thank goodness I was a night owl, or we could have had some serious issues first thing in the morning.
“It’s for the best.” Emma’s words were flat.
I glanced at her, but didn’t say anything. I figured this was harder for her than it was for me. Besides, she wasn’t the best at expressing her emotions lately. Sadly, I felt as though I was getting used to it.
MOM SEEMED TO ADJUST well, or at least that was what the nurses told me the handful of times I had been to visit with her over the last two weeks. Emma refused to come with me. When she said she’d already said her goodbyes to Mom, I hadn’t thought she meant for forever, but apparently, she had.
I was counting down the days until her next doctor’s appointment. There were some things I wanted to discuss with him in regards to her mental state. It was hard for me to think of Emma as being depressed, but I was beginning to realize that was her issue. I had hoped after our argument awhile back she would have shook off her funk and started making her way back to being my sister. The one I loved, the one I missed. But, she hadn’t.
Instead, she’d fallen deeper into the hole of depression, making me think it would take an act of God to finally pull her free.
She had started eating again, albeit like a bird. She still needed to gain some of her original weight back. She was nearing the point of becoming too gaunt and sickly looking. It was a general topic of conversation between Dawson and me lately. He was worried about her, and so was I. Even if the doctors didn’t seem to be. They viewed her limited eating habits as progress. I viewed them as an attempt to appease everyone for the time being. I knew my sister better than they did.
I hoisted the bags of groceries out of my trunk, being sure I gathered every last one, because I hated making trips back to the car. Tonight, I had invited over three of Emma’s closest friends for dinner and drinks, thinking it might make something click inside her, or at the very least allow her to have fun for a change and forget everything else for a while.
“Need some help?” Dawson called to me from the front door of the house. He being here was no surprise. I had sent him a text, letting him know I needed to head to the store and run some errands for a little while, practically inviting him over to spend time with my sister.
That wasn’t my only reasoning though. With the way Emma had been sulking around the house, I was scared she would try to hurt herself if she was left alone. Maybe I was wrong, dear God, I hoped I was, but it was a strange feeling in my gut I couldn’t ignore when I was around her.
“Sure.” I grunted while staring toward the door. “You can close my trunk for me.”
Dawson hurried over. “Or, I could take a few of these off your hands before you break your wrists.” He grinned. “And then close the trunk for you. How does that sound?”
“Fabulous actually.” I stretched out the arm holding the bulk of the heavy bags to him.
“You’re welcome.” He winked.
“Thank you.” I flashed him a smile, ignoring the sensation in my stomach his wink caused, and started up the ramp to the porch. Emma was in the living room when I walked in, watching something on TV. “Hey, whatcha watching?”
“Some movie. It’s a comedy.”
“Really? I would have never known from the absence of your laughter.” I adjusted the bags on my arms, evenly distributing their weight. “Must not be that good.”
“It’s okay.” She eyed the bags in my arms. “What’s all that?”
“I told you. I have a surprise for you tonight,” I said in a singsong voice, hoping to get at least a flicker of excitement shooting through her. I wanted to see her alive, but the deadness that seemed to overtake her more each day was the only thing reflected back at me.
She brought her fingers up to rub her right temple, and a sigh escaped her. “Char, I already told you, I’m not in the mood for any surprises.”
“And I told you I don’t care.” I continued toward the kitchen, ready to drop off the heavy bags, but also not willing to argue with Emma about tonight again. “I want you showered and dressed to impress by five tonight. I mean it!” The sound of her grumbling something made its way to my ears, but it was too low for me to make out the words, which was probably a good thing, because I knew it wouldn’t be anything nice.