Chapter 11 #2
Jamal held Phylicia’s hand while the director of Mossy Oaks explained how her mother had violently pitched a glass vase against the wall in the residents’ common area and disrupted a food cart laden with hot lunches. Dr. Beckman saw it as a sign that her dementia was worsening.
“Patients become more aggressive as the disease progresses,” he remarked.
“But this is so unlike her.” Phylicia pressed a balled fist to her lips. “My mother has the gentlest soul of anyone I know.”
“Remember we talked about this?” Dr. Beckman asked. “As the disease worsens, she will become less and less like her old self.”
“I knew it was inevitable. I’ve read every article I could find on early-onset dementia.” She shook her head. “It’s just so hard to see it happening and know there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it.”
The slight tremble in her voice hit Jamal’s chest like the sharp point of a javelin to his heart. He had to fight the urge to bring her hand to his lips and press a gentle kiss to her fingers. He settled for giving it another reassuring squeeze.
Dr. Beckman’s desk phone rang. He picked it up, listened for a moment, and said, “Thank you, Rebecca,” before hanging up. “Mrs. Phillips is back in her room. You still want to see her?”
“Of course,” Phylicia said, springing up from the chair and leading the way out of the office. Jamal had to lengthen his stride just to keep up with her.
As they approached the door to what he assumed was her mother’s room, she glanced down at their joined hands then at him.
“Do you want to stay out here?” she asked.
“Only if you want me to,” he answered.
She remained silent for several heartbeats before she said, “I’d like you to come in.”
A strange feeling blossomed in Jamal’s chest—a mixture of gladness, relief, and a hint of fear that he couldn’t fully describe. He swallowed, nodded, and gripped her hand tighter as he followed her into the room.
Phylicia gave the door two sharp raps with her knuckle before easing it open.
“Mom?” she called in a soft voice.
They entered a comfortable-sized room with a bed, television, two nightstands done in dark wood, and a small seating area set up in front of a large window.
A woman, who looked so much like Phylicia that there could be no mistaking they were mother and daughter, sat in one of the high-backed chairs.
“Agatha?” the woman asked.
“Yes, Sabina, it’s me,” Phylicia said. She let go of his hand and made it to her mother’s side in three strides.
Jamal held himself back, stopping just inside the door. The nurse who had been hovering next to Mrs. Phillips walked toward where Jamal and Dr. Beckman stood.
“Is she okay?” Jamal asked.
The nurse nodded. “Especially now that Phylicia is here. Mrs. Phillips loves it when she visits, even though she mistakes her for her baby sister.”
“Good work, Rebecca,” Dr. Beckman said, then addressed Jamal. “I’ll leave you all to visit. Use the call button next to the bed if you need anything.”
Jamal nodded his thanks and shut the door behind the two as they exited, but he didn’t move closer to Phylicia.
He stood sentry at the door while she and her mother spoke in soft tones.
Their closeness was evident in the way Phylicia gently caressed her mother’s hand and the older woman smoothed the stray locks of hair away from Phylicia’s face.
The ache that had pulsed in Jamal’s chest grew tighter as he observed the mother and daughter.
Unsurprisingly, his mind drifted to his own mother and how much he’d missed seeing her this past year.
The closeness he once shared with his mother and younger sister was, by far, the greatest casualty in this fallout between him and his dad. Not a single day went by that he didn’t think about them.
Pride wouldn’t allow him to admit to missing anything about his dad. As a father, he had been sufficient but mostly missing in action, sacrificing time with his family to build his empire. As a boss, he had been barely tolerable.
Jamal had always had a hard time separating the father from the CEO.
His mother’s unwavering support was given without question, but his father’s approval had always had strings attached.
It required blind allegiance to his ideals, and any opposition to his way of thinking was considered insurrection.
Jamal’s life was just fine without Lawrence Johnson, the head of Johnson Construction. Which meant he would have to do without Lawrence Johnson, the father, as well.
But did that mean he had to remain estranged from his mother and sister? Why should they continue to suffer from something that had nothing to do with them?
“Is this your new man, Agatha?” Jamal heard Phylicia’s mother ask.
Phylicia’s eyes flew to his. “Uh…yes, it is,” she said as both she and her mother stood. Jamal saw the pleading in Phylicia’s eyes as the women made their way over to where he stood.
The older version of Phylicia, who was as lithe and beautiful as her daughter, held her hand out.
“I’m Sabina, Agatha’s older sister, but not by that many years.”
He captured her hand and placed a kiss on the backs of her fingers. “I’m Jamal, and you are as beautiful and elegant as your younger sister.”
She blushed and turned to Phylicia. “You’ve got yourself a charmer here, Agatha. I think he’s a keeper.”
“I think you may be right,” Phylicia said, her huge brown eyes filled with gratitude and remorse and myriad other things that made the air in Jamal’s lungs evaporate.
They all turned at a knock on the door. It was the nurse, Rebecca. “Sorry to disturb you all, but it’s dinnertime,” she said.
“No need to apologize,” Phylicia said. “It’s time we hit the road.” She leaned over and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be back to see you soon—tomorrow, if I can manage it.”
“Oh, don’t worry about coming here to see me, Agatha. You need to spend as much time with your young man as you can.”
“I’ll come with her,” Jamal said, earning him a quick, surprised glance from Phylicia.
“Oh, yes, he’s a good one,” her mother said. She ushered them both out of the room. “Go on, now. And I’ll see you two later.”
They made their way out of Mossy Oaks in silence, neither saying a word until they were both seated in the truck. Phylicia reached over and put her hand on his forearm.
“Thank you,” she said.
“It’s no big deal,” Jamal replied.
“It’s a very big deal. I’ve been handling my mother’s disease for three years by myself. I didn’t realize how much I needed someone to lean on, especially after a day like today.”
He reached over with his right hand and moved a strand of hair from her face. “I’m happy I could be that person for you.”
“So am I,” she said.
The return trip to Gauthier was made with very little communication between them, just the occasional comment about houses they passed or other drivers on the road.
There was so much more he wanted to say, but every time he started to speak about what happened back at Mossy Oaks, Jamal stopped himself.
He could sense that Phylicia needed space.
He pulled into her driveway and parked. The logical thing would have been to have her drop him off at Belle Maison, where he’d left his truck, but he didn’t think Phylicia should be driving.
“I can call Corey, have him pick me up,” Jamal suggested.
She looked down at her lap, then over at him. “Would you mind coming in?” she asked in a soft voice. “Just for a few minutes.”
The relief that flooded him was enough to drown a small village. “Absolutely,” Jamal said.
He got out of the truck and followed her into the house. The silence continued as Phylicia flipped on the lights and walked to the kitchen. Jamal wasn’t sure what he should say. He decided to come right out with the question that had been weighing on his mind.
“How long has your mother been sick?” he asked.
She opened the refrigerator and pulled out two cans of Coca-Cola. She handed him one and popped hers open, taking a healthy sip before leaning back against the counter and crossing her arms over her chest.
“She started showing signs about five years ago. She would go to the grocery store and forget why she went there. Or she would ask the same questions several times a day, sometimes only a few minutes after she’d asked it.
In the beginning it wasn’t anything that would raise a red flag, but it soon became apparent that something wasn’t right.
I put her in Mossy Oaks three years ago, just a few months after my dad died. ”
She shook her head, staring at the floor. “It killed me to do that. I felt like such a failure. After everything she and my dad had done for me, I pay her back by putting her in a home.”
“Not just any home,” he said. “You put her in the care of people who know how to deal with her illness. You did the responsible thing.”
“It didn’t feel like it at the time. It felt as if I was shirking my responsibility.”
She finally looked up at him again, and the sheen of tears glistening in her eyes tore at Jamal’s heart.
“I just couldn’t handle her on my own.” Her voice trembled.
She shook her head, wrapping her arms around her middle.
“I would come home and find dinner burned beyond recognition, or I’d find her wandering the neighborhood.
Once, she took a trowel and uprooted all the flowers in Mrs. Jacobs’s landscaping.
” She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
“I was afraid she would burn the house down, or wander somewhere and get hurt.”
“Taking care of an elderly parent is a tough job,” he said.
“Did that woman look elderly to you?” Phylicia practically shouted. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just so unfair. She’s only sixty-two years old. She’s in tip-top shape, but her mind is completely gone.”