Chapter Twenty
Lila
The next morning, I woke up relaxed and unafraid for the first time in months, for the first time since my father’s death. Soft sunlight streamed through the windows, and Adam lay beside me, his arms wrapped around me in a protective hug.
“Good morning,” I purred into his ear.
He opened his eyes and pulled me closer. “Good morning.” His lips pressed against my hairline. “I’m looking forward to doing this every morning with you.”
“Me too.”
Adam raised his head and studied me, his gaze going straight to my soul. “There’s just one thing.”
“What’s that?” I asked, snuggling closer to him, luxuriating in the softness of the sheets and the silence throughout the house. I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t want to move. I just wanted to say in Adam’s arms.
“You said your mother’s condition has worsened in the last few weeks. And we haven’t really talked about what we’re going to do about that.”
“Not we.” I sighed and turned until I lay flat on my back, staring at the master bedroom ceiling. “Me. I have to take care of it.”
“No, Lila.” He moved so his body molded to my side. “Like I said there is an us now. Not just a me or a you. And that means whatever is going on with your mother, whatever needs she has, I am willing to help you take care of them; I want to help you make these decisions.”
I turned my head and gazed at him. “If you really want to, we can see her today.” I nodded at the bedside clock. “The facility she’s staying in allows visitors starting at noon.”
He smiled. “You’re on, Lila. Let’s do it.”
We drove to the facility after a quick lunch of deli sandwiches from Sunrise Grill, a local joint across from Palm Beach’s Town Hall.
He dined on a club sandwich, and I ate an avocado wrap, both of us mostly silent as we took in the food, eating as if we hadn’t had a morsel in days.
Only then did I realize just how much of a toll the last few days had taken on me, and on him.
Exhaustion was an understatement.
After lunch, we headed to the facility, and I found Mom in one of her favorite places, the small library adjacent to the lobby. She sat in a small hardback chair in front of a pile of gossip magazines, shifting through the pages.
“Hello,” I tried as we approached. “How are you today?”
She looked up at me without recognition, and a piece of my heart fell away. The doctors and administrators had been right. She wasn’t the same; she wasn’t as well off as she’d been barely a few weeks before, when we’d had a good day in the garden, working puzzles in the South Florida sunlight.
“I’m sorry, you’re—”
“Lila.” I extended a hand, shook hers, and gestured to Adam. “And this is Adam Greene. We heard you like Hollywood gossip.” I pointed at the open magazine on the table in front of her. “And you’re something of an expert.”
“An expert?” She blinked at me a few times. “Oh, I guess. I don’t know.”
“Well, tell us what you know.” I sat in the chair opposite her, Adam following my lead. “We aren’t too knowledgeable.”
“Yes,” Adam added, his voice stilted but warm. “I’m sure you can help us get better with it.”
She smiled at him, and I thanked God for that. The woman I knew was fading, but at least Adam had seen what little of her remained. And that mattered.
“You were right,” Adam remarked an hour or so later as we drove back onto the island. “Her Alzheimer’s is more severe than I expected.” He ran and hand through his hair and opened the moon roof as the car crossed the bridge into the town limits. “That was—”
“That was a good day.” I sniffled, thinking of the conversation I’d had with Sylvia and Brian, how clear they had made it all about what her future would and would not entail. “But she won’t have many more of those.”
“I know.” I heard a quiet, sober reality in his reply. “But now I’ve seen her, I truly understand what you mean about her health.” He stopped the car at the red light at the end of the bridge. “No matter what, Lila, we will figure it out. Together.”
And I knew in that moment we would.