Chapter Forty-six – Andie
Chapter Forty-six
ANDIE
‘H ello! How are you?’ A lady with a brilliant blue rinse walking a long-haired poodle addresses Dad.
With every lovely human who greets us as we stroll along the ocean path, it feels like a silent bullet is shot into my heart.
They’re only doing as instructed , I think, glancing down at my sunny yellow T-shirt printed with the words: My beautiful dad has dementia. Please say hello to him.
Mum’s tee mirrors mine: My beautiful husband has dementia. Please say hello to him .
Little do these innocent people know that she won’t be with us much longer, either.
‘How long have you known?’ I ask her.
‘Hello! How are you?’ We’re interrupted again, this time by a young couple, a baby strapped to the guy’s chest. If I ever have kids it’s doubtful either of my parents will be around to meet them.
Dad says a cheerful hello back.
‘That I’m terminal?’ she says, as though she’s asking me to confirm the temperature outside.
‘Yes, Mum. That you’re terminal.’
Waves crash on the shore, and someone up ahead loses the top scoop of their ice-cream cone. It immediately starts to melt on the hot pavement, and when we reach it, I wheel Dad around the sticky puddle.
‘For a few months. I haven’t wanted to worry you.’
‘And to give you time to get Dad sorted in the nursing home, I suppose.’
‘Well, yes. It will be easier on everyone, Andie. I know you wanted to keep him in the house – but for what? You were already running yourself ragged, and that’s with me here. Have you given any more thought to going back to your film studies?’
‘Not yet,’ I say as she links her arm in mine, and all I can focus on is how bony it feels. How small and shrunken she is against me.
‘Well, I won’t push it. You know my opinion about that, but let’s just enjoy the time we have left together. Up for a movie tonight?’
‘Of course.’
‘Fabulous. Shall we watch Beaches ?’
‘You’re a sicko,’ I say, but I smile at her as we ascend the steep hill towards our cherished ocean-facing bench. Mum leans on my arm, her weight gradually increasing with each step, while I strain to push Dad’s wheelchair up the path.
When we finally reach the bench, I need a rest myself.