Chapter 29
Nolan
I hadn’t intended for Andi to find out about Mom this way, but after I get off the phone, she immediately says, “I’m coming with you,” no questions asked.
Even though she’s not fully aware of the situation, she seems to understand that I need the support. I appreciate it, more than I can ever express.
Whatever spell came over us minutes ago vanishes entirely. We both switch into emergency mode, drying off, getting our clothes back on, and jumping into the car as fast as possible, like we weren’t making out like teenagers in the lake.
It’s strange, having her with me the entire drive home, not just because of what happened between us.
Ever since I moved back, I’m used to having things under control.
But with Mom’s condition worsening, it’s starting to feel like the opposite.
Andi’s mere presence is a comfort I never anticipated.
There’s something inherently reliable and reassuring about her presence that makes it feel like everything is going to be okay, even if it’s not.
Once we’re about five minutes away from Mom’s house, I finally speak. “You should probably know, my mom is sick.”
“Sick?” She eyes me curiously, though she doesn’t look surprised.
“Alzheimer’s,” I reply, the weight of the words settling like a sandbag between us.
Her face falls with gentle empathy, though she doesn’t say anything, which I appreciate.
Whenever I tell people, they usually start asking a million questions, like When did it start?
What were her first symptoms? A bunch of facts I have to rattle off for their own knowledge, which actually makes me feel worse in the moment.
And that’s not even scratching the surface of our history, before the diagnosis.
I’ve been that way my entire life. If something is wrong, I’ve always been the type of person to close off and bottle it all up. Talking about my feelings never did me any good.
But there’s something about Andi that makes me talk.
“She was diagnosed three years ago.” I explain how she started having issues with her memory even before that, while I was overseas.
According to my sister, it was small things, like misplacing keys or forgetting people’s names.
Emma was the first one who noticed, though Mom also hid a lot from us, because she was embarrassed and in denial.
“She was doing relatively well up until the last few months. She’s become really short-tempered, easily agitated.
She also gets…confused sometimes and will go out and wander around the neighborhood, trying to see old friends.
Tonight, our neighbor caught her walking down the street in her pajamas looking for my sister,” I explain.
It’s not until I’m finished talking that I let out a long breath, all the tension releasing from my body.
Maybe it’s the fact that talking kept me distracted from whatever the hell I’m about to walk into, but regardless, it felt fucking good to get all of that out.
Andi softly places her hand on my forearm and gives me a reassuring squeeze. “God. I’m sorry, Nolan. That must be really hard on you, especially given your childhood.”
I stay quiet, focusing on the road ahead.
But something about her words hits me square in the chest. No one’s ever said that to me before.
Even Emma and I, who both know what it’s like to be Mom’s caregiver, have never really acknowledged that fact.
It’s always been about duty, about action, what to do next for Mom.
We pull into the driveway. Andi and I agree it’s best she go to my place while I fetch my mom next door. The fewer people, the better.
“Hey, thank you so much. I’m so sorry about this,” I say when Katrina opens the door.
“It’s fine, Nolan. She came in and asked to have some tea.
She wanted to watch Bon Jovi concert clips on YouTube,” she tells me, adjusting her pink bathrobe over her round middle.
I’m beyond grateful for her. She’s been really helpful and understanding about Mom, unlike some of the other neighbors, who see her as a nuisance when she shows up at their door.
Mom is in her nightgown, casually sitting on the couch with a cup of tea, bobbing her head to “Livin’ on a Prayer.” When I walk in, she looks up and smiles, her eyes wide. “Hon! You’re finally back from tour?”
Strangely, this greeting gives me relief.
She may not know what day it is, but at least she knows who I am.
I keep waiting for the day she won’t recognize me at all.
I’ve been trying to prepare myself mentally, trying to tell myself it won’t affect me as much as it does other people. But I’m starting to doubt that.
“Yeah. Just got back,” I say. “Hey, let’s get you home and to bed.”
She frowns. “But I’m not tired. I’m still in the middle of the show.”
“We can watch it at our house,” I insist.
It takes a solid ten minutes to convince her, but eventually she gets up and lets me lead her home. She quickly spots Andi waiting in our kitchen and eyes her with curiosity. “Who are you?”
Andi briefly glances at me before holding her hand out. “I’m Andi. It’s really nice to meet you, Mrs. Crosby.”
“Are you Nolan’s girlfriend?” she asks, which surprises me. I didn’t expect her to remember about Andi, given she’s still at least three years behind in her head.
Andi nods. “I am.”
Mom claps her hands together in delight. “Oh, I’m so happy to finally meet you.” She turns to me. “She’s way more beautiful than you let on.”
I smile involuntarily. She’s not wrong.
Mom is quick to offer her some wrinkly grapes from the fridge, which Andi happily accepts. Before I have any say, they’re both sitting at the kitchen table, which is filled with random boxes and spilled ingredients. I feel a surge of embarrassment, given how clean her place is in comparison.
Andi doesn’t seem to mind. She’s good with my mom, sticking to neutral subjects, like the weather and ’80s bands.
Mom leans in and whispers, “My music skills aren’t what they used to be. But I used to be quite the performer. I’ll make sure to dig out the videotapes next time you visit. There better be a next time,” she says, winking at me.
“Mom, Andi will be back to visit really soon. We should get you to bed,” I say.
Thankfully, she doesn’t protest and heads to bed without much of a fuss.
When I come out of the bedroom, Andi is elbow deep in the sink, cleaning. “You really don’t have to do that,” I say, startling her slightly when I walk up behind her.
She waves my words away like flies. “You helped me bake eight dozen cookies the other day and helped me clean up a whole party today. The least I can do is wash a couple pans. And by the way, I already ordered an Uber home.”
“What? No. I’ll drive you.”
She shakes her head. “No. You shouldn’t leave your mom.”
Fuck. She’s right. I duck my head, feeling both guilty and overwhelmingly grateful for her understanding. “Thank you, Andi. For everything tonight. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her earlier. It’s just—”
“It’s okay, really. I understand it’s probably not an easy thing to talk about. Especially with someone you don’t really know.”
I nod. “The whole situation is hard to explain to people.”
“You’re a good person, Nolan. For taking care of her so willingly.”
I wince at the compliment, sweet as it is.
“Actually, when my mom was first diagnosed, I left.” She eyes me curiously.
“About a week before that first night we met, she was officially diagnosed. I was home at the time and was supposed to be for a couple months. I thought about quitting and staying to help Em, but I didn’t.
I fucked off—the day after we met, actually.
Took the first opportunity I could to leave.
Avoided coming home, actually, because I was bitter about the whole thing.
About her needing our help when she’d never been there a day in our lives. ”
She considers that for a beat. “Honestly, that’s really understandable.”
“Is it? Because I don’t think most people would take off when their mom is given between four and eight years to live.”
“I think your reaction was human. Of course you’d be scared. Avoidance just happened to be your first reaction. It doesn’t mean you didn’t care or love her any less.” I may not fully believe that, but damn, it feels nice to hear. Until now, I’m not sure I knew how much I needed to hear it.
“You really think so?”
“Maybe it’s not that you resent her, but that you don’t want to lose her all over again?”
Her words pummel me in the face. Sure, Mom can’t physically leave me anymore. But she can leave me mentally. She’s going to, in fact. It’s only a matter of time. And I don’t know what’s worse. “I feel like shit. Putting her in a facility.”
She reaches to give my forearm a squeeze.
“My grandpa on my dad’s side was diagnosed with Parkinson’s when I was a kid, and my grandma was the same way.
She didn’t want to put him in a home, because who does?
But Alzheimer’s is a serious disease. Sometimes, there comes a point where it’s detrimental not just to the caregiver’s health, but to the patient’s.
And unfortunately, that means the best place for them is somewhere they can get specialized care. ”
I nod. “I know. Thank you for the reminder. And I’m sorry about your grandpa, by the way.”
“Thanks,” she whispers. “And seriously, I know it’s impossible not to feel guilt. But you’re an amazing son. She’s lucky to have you.”
“It was the least I could do. I’ll be leaving soon.
” Something rattles in my gut when I say it.
For the first time, saying I’m leaving doesn’t feel like relief.
It doesn’t feel exciting. It feels sad. I’m actually going to miss Ottawa.
Because Andi is here. My family is here.
And of course, Cody, the little bald gremlin of a dog I can’t stop thinking about.
“Right.” She stiffens a bit, nodding, but avoiding eye contact.
Andi’s never been one for prolonged eye contact. But after the past few weeks of spending so much time together, I can feel her opening up to me, becoming more comfortable with me, especially tonight.
Now, her body language is telling me she’s taken a step back, and it doesn’t take a scientist to figure out why.
Still, I don’t push it. I’m not normally one to beat around the bush if there’s an awkward conversation to be had.
But honestly, I have no idea what the hell to say.
I’ve kissed my fair share of women, but that kiss was…
something. Maybe it’s because I’ve been imagining how her skin would feel against mine ever since that first night we met.
The way she would feel against me. The way she tastes.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to do it again, and more. But I don’t say that, or anything remotely close, because I’m a straight-up chicken.
So instead, we sit on the porch and make stilted conversation about literally anything else—the cookies, Lars, Cody, how she wants to go back to Costco. Anything but what happened between us tonight before Katrina called, until her ride shows up.
I don’t think it’s my imagination that she practically runs for the car.
“You still good for dinner tomorrow? So long as my mom is up for it?” I confirm.
“Yup. Totally!” she squeaks, already sliding into the back seat.
“Okay. Well, uh, enjoy the ride?” I call before closing the door.
“Enjoy the ride”? That’s all I have to say after what happened at the lake? After she came with me to help with Mom?
I am an absolute asshat.
An hour later, I’m lying in bed, trying to get any semblance of sleep, when she texts me.
Andi: How’s your mom doing?
Nolan: Good. Still sleeping!
Andi: So about tonight…
I nearly die in anticipation, watching the little dots appear and disappear for what feels like forever.
Nolan: Yeah?
Andi: I think it’s best we don’t do that again.
Well, fuck. I don’t know what I expected her to say, but it wasn’t that. Before I can respond, another message comes through.
Andi: With everything going on with the media and our situation, I just don’t think it would be a good idea. Besides, I don’t want anything to happen that could risk our friendship.
Reading those words feels like a gut punch.
At the same time, she’s entirely right. Hooking up would complicate things, especially since I’m leaving, at some point, in the near future.
And even though I’ve been second-guessing that lately, leaving Ottawa is the smart thing. Temporary. Just as I like it.
Nolan: You’re right. Just friends.
Andi: Perfect