Chapter 4 Before
Before
Annabelle sat in the armchair, watching her mother sleep.
Her mother had gotten so much worse in the past six months.
It was terrifying how quickly her mind had been ravaged, leaving her a shell of the woman Annabelle knew.
Moving her here was the most difficult decision of her young life.
But when she’d come home from class a month ago, just in time to put out the kitchen fire her mother had started, she knew it was time to listen to her aunt and stop trying to take care of her mother on her own.
It didn’t make it any easier though. And when her mother had those brief moments of lucidity, it pierced Annabelle to her core as she tried to explain why she couldn’t bring her mother home.
It had always been just the two of them, or at least as far back as most of Annabelle’s memories went.
Her father had been there for the first six years of her life, but she could barely summon a memory of him, and the way he’d abandoned them left her with no desire to ever see him again.
Her mother had worked tirelessly as a nurse, taking the midnight shift so that she could be there to see Annabelle off to school, and be home to make her dinner and help with homework.
Only now that she was an adult herself did she realize what a toll that must have taken on her mother.
Her life had revolved entirely around Annabelle—getting home at seven-thirty in the morning, then sleeping until Annabelle came home, only to have a precious few hours to herself before leaving again at eleven-thirty.
When Annabelle was younger, their upstairs neighbor would come and stay, but once Annabelle was a teenager, she stayed alone.
Her mother never complained, always had a smile on her face, her mood even and sunny.
What advice would her mother offer her now?
Annabelle had read that often Alzheimer’s changed someone’s personality.
People became angry and combative. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case with her mom.
She could hold on to that, be grateful for that.
That’s what her mother would do. But Annabelle didn’t feel grateful.
Rage and grief were the emotions that took turns consuming her.
Her mother was only fifty-six. Now that Annabelle was in her senior year of college, it should be her mother’s turn to have time for herself.
It wasn’t fair to either of them, but no one ever said that life was fair.
She grabbed a tissue from the table next to her and dabbed her eyes, now wet with tears.
“How you doin’, hon?” Sonya, one of the nurses, walked in, her voice quiet, her eyes kind.
Annabelle looked up and shrugged, not trusting herself to speak.
Sonya walked over and put a hand on Annabelle’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I know it’s hard, sweetie. But we’re taking good care of Miriam.
You’ve been here all morning. Go get yourself something to eat.
” She glanced at the bed. “She’ll be asleep for a while. I’ll bet you have some studying to do.”
“Okay, yeah, thanks.” Annabelle gathered her backpack and walked out to her Honda Civic.
She had a ton of reading to do, as well as some movies to catch up on.
As a communications major, Journalism in the Movies wasn’t something she would likely need for a marketing career.
But she had room for two electives, and it fit with her schedule on Tuesdays and Thursdays, giving her the other three weekdays free to visit her mother.
She couldn’t deny that it was interesting, but whether her fascination was the subject matter or the professor was up for debate.
Professor Bennet, “call me Randy,” was a dead ringer for Jake Gyllenhaal.
No stuffy man in a tweed jacket, but jeans and a black T-shirt that showed off his perfect pecs and washboard abs.
All the girls in the class were mesmerized, but Annabelle was the one he’d noticed.
She thought back to that first day in class.
She’d been rushing, stuck in traffic, and ran into the room ten minutes late.
Professor Bennet was speaking and when Annabelle opened the door he stopped, and all eyes turned to look at her.
She could feel her face turn red. Scanning the room for an empty seat, she spied one near the back but tripped in her haste, dropping her purse.
All its contents spilled onto the floor.
The pounding in her ears increased when she heard the buzz of laughter in the classroom, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him.
Crystal-clear blue eyes, a mischievous smirk, and tousled sandy hair that looked as though he’d just gotten out of bed.
He stopped teaching, leaned down to help her retrieve the items from her purse, and she thought she’d die when he handed her a tampon.
When his fingers met hers, there was an electric current.
As cliché as that sounded, she felt it. She could see in his eyes that he felt something too.
From then on, there were surreptitious looks, lingering eye contact, and knowing smiles.
But it wasn’t until a month later that he’d invited her to meet for coffee.
Coffee turned into dinner, dinner into drinks, and drinks into breakfast. They had been seeing each other for a month now.
It was against the rules, but for once she didn’t care about the rules.
Annabelle fired off a quick text letting Randy know she was heading back to her apartment, promising to call him later. She put the car in drive, turned on the radio, and sang along to Coldplay as she drove.
Twenty minutes later, she arrived at the property she rented in Norwalk—an apartment over the garage of a small Cape Cod.
The owner was sweet, a woman in her eighties who baked cookies and pumpkin bread, always putting some aside for Annabelle.
Annabelle had had to sell their house to afford her mom’s facility and pay her college tuition.
There had been enough left to cover her rent here, a steal at $900 a month.
If she was careful about her spending, she’d be okay until she graduated and got a full-time job.
She grabbed the newspaper from the driveway and put it on Mrs. Miller’s doorstep, then carried the now-empty garbage can to the back of the house. Unlocking her door, she climbed the stairs to her studio apartment and turned on some lights.
Her stomach was rumbling; she realized she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Rummaging through the cabinets, she settled on a can of lentil soup and poured it into a pan to heat.
She was exhausted. How was she going to get through all that reading without falling asleep?
Her phone pinged, and she smiled when she saw the name on the screen. Randy.
I miss you. Sleepover?
Her face flushed as images of their lovemaking the night before came unbidden. She hesitated only a moment before answering.
Be over in an hour
His reply came immediately.
Don’t forget to forget your p.j.s
What the hell? It was only an elective. She could ace the next quiz.