Chapter 19
Tim
I drove home without breaking the speed limit. Just.
Macy had just texted that my sister had arrived. The news sent me into a tailspin. I’d tried to conceal Mum’s condition from my sister. I’d questioned that decision many times but ultimately came to the same conclusion—Amy had an amazing career that understandably took her to London.
Mum’s symptoms started to worsen six months ago—enough that I couldn’t discount them.
She’d leave for the supermarket and not come home with groceries, she’d forget the names of people she’d worked with for thirty years, forget where she’d left her handbag when it was right in front of her.
I’d started prepping Mum for Amy’s visits, which were about once every two weeks.
Made sure she stayed in her routine and that she was well exercised, so she was calm and not fretting, and reminded her right before about what Amy was doing.
Because if Amy knew what was going on, I was positive she’d abandon her dream of an acting career in London and move back up here.
And I was responsible for making sure she was able to pursue those dreams, because Dad had made me promise before he died two years ago.
Amy was born with cerebral palsy, and at birth, doctors said she would probably need to use a wheelchair.
After many years of hard work through physical therapy and surgeries, she was able to walk with a quad cane.
Though her passion was acting, she was determined to be financially independent and had studied tax law, graduating from law school with top honors.
Because she tired easily, and she wanted to appear in productions for regional theaters in the evenings and weekends, she took a job that guaranteed a 5:00 p.m. finish time—as legal counsel for the accountancy firm Mum had worked for years in the back office.
But Amy felt judged and constantly second-guessed by one of the new partners, and his opinions infected two of the workers.
He’d even told her the only reason she was there was because of Mum and that they felt sorry for her.
She was miserable and sad and struggled with depression.
It’d had a deeply profound impact on her, and I wanted to make sure she never went through that again.
The minute Amy got wind of my plans for Mum, I knew she’d consider going back to working in an office to help pay for her care. I planned to win the show and have the money all set before Amy found out so that wasn’t even a consideration for her.
“Amy!” I rushed in the front door. “You should have called.”
I looked around. Macy had left already. Frantically, I searched Amy’s face for clues that something was wrong, a sign that Macy had straight up told her about Mum.
Amy stared up at me, and I scanned a face I knew as well as my own.
Four years younger, and at five foot three, she was a foot shorter than me.
Her brown eyes, the same as mine, were darkened with annoyance, and she shook her thick hair, a deeper brown than mine, against her cropped pink sweater.
It was always disconcerting to see my face on her, but smaller, sweeter, her eyes lined with thick, black lashes.
But there was nothing sweet about the way she stood in front of me.
“I was going to call you, but you always put me off,” she said. “Guess you’re a big reality TV star now, and you don’t have time for your baby sister.”
She was always incredibly confident in herself and her opinions, but this was something else. She was well pissed off as she walked toward me with her asymmetric gait tilting to the left, her hand curled inward, and clapped me on the shins with her cane.
“Who’s a big TV star? Where?” Mum said.
I stiffened.
“Glad to see your fame has yet to impress Mum,” Amy said.
To Amy, that might seem as if Mum was giving me a hard time, not letting me get too big for my boots.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Lovely to see you too, arsehole. I’m here because of Fitzy.
” I still couldn’t believe my sister had ended up with my best friend, and he’d followed her down to London.
“He had a practice with his London team on your pitch so they can kick your bum in a few weeks, and I thought I’d come up and see Mum—and my loving brother. ”
My body felt like one internal sigh of relief. She didn’t appear to know.
“Sorry, Ames, that was rude. I am pleased to see you, but I’m surprised. I just wanted you to feel I’ve got it all under control, and that you feel comfortable to do what you need down in London.”
“I just want you to feel…comfortable to do what you need,” she said, mimicking my deep voice. “Who is this thinking, feeling creature, and what have you done with my brother?”
“Shut up.” I narrowed my eyes.
“Yeah. That’s more like it.”
My throat went tight, and my heart rammed against my ribs. How was this going to go? I hadn’t prepared Mum for Amy’s visit like I normally did, and she was looking a bit dazed already. This was what I’d been working so hard to keep from Amy.
“Look, Mum. It’s Amy, your daughter,” I said.
“Yes, sweetheart, she’s been my daughter for twenty-eight years.” Mum blinked patiently. “And she’ll probably be my daughter for a few more years too.”
I gave a laugh of relief.
Amy gave me a strange look for the odd introduction, but I didn’t care. My heart was bursting. Mum was good. She was having a good day. Or a good hour.
I sat Amy down and served the salad and lasagna Macy had made us.
“Mum, where have you been lately with your group?” Amy was clearly asking Mum about her wild swimming.
“Nowhere.” Mum nodded to me. “This one won’t let me go.”
There had been a dangerous incident on the Welsh coast months ago, when she’d gotten out of the ocean without telling anyone and wandered up a cliff, looking for her flat.
The group had called the lifeguard, and they’d spent an hour in the water and on the beach searching for her before one of them found her at the top of the cliff.
When the group leader had dropped her off, he’d told me this had to be her last trip with them.
“But I take you to the pool, Mum,” I said.
Amy looked confused, but she didn’t push.
I was on tenterhooks as we ate dinner and Amy continued to ask Mum questions. I barely ate, which got me a few funny looks from Amy. With all the hard physical labor during the day, two hours at the gym most days, and rugby practices, I always had an enormous appetite.
Amy started doing one of her humorous imitations, and I pushed aside all my worries about Mum and remembered to ask her about her acting career. “Amy, did you get any word on that police procedural you were up for?” I asked.
“Oh yes! Yes. That’s what I was going to tell you. I got it. That’s another reason I wanted to come up. I wanted to tell you in person—just heard last night.”
“Oh, Ames. Well done, you.” I rose quickly, chair scraping back, rounded the table, and hugged her from behind. Fuck, she was incredible. “Congrats. I’m so proud of you.” I caught Mum’s eyes across the table. “Mum, Ames got that police procedural role on TV.”
I knew I was doing way too much explaining, but Mum got up and hugged her too.
“What’s a police procedural?” Mum asked after taking her seat again.
Shit. She’d loved those shows all her life.
I flashed to Amy’s face, but Mum’s question hadn’t sparked suspicion.
“Sorry, industry lingo, Mum,” Amy said. “It’s what you watch on the telly, like Vera or Inspector Morse.”
I sat back down next to Mum, my hand on her shoulder, and it seemed to calm her.
“It’s a small but recurring role of a constable on a crime team,” Amy said.
“My agent says if I make an impression, they could beef up the part. So I have to put in all my effort. Also, I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure.
I have some more news. I’m down to the final two for this play.
It’s not Southbank, but still, it’s a popular theater. ”
I reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “It’s all coming together, Amy. I’m so happy for you. All your hard work is paying off.”
We talked about the play and the details of the show and what she was getting up to in London until we’d finished our dinner. I tried to keep her chatting so she wouldn’t ask Mum too many questions.
“You two sit down on the back porch and catch up,” Mum said. “It’s still quite warm outside. I’ll stack the dishwasher.”
“Mum, I haven’t heard much about you and what you’ve been up to,” Amy protested. Mum responded by good-naturedly shooing her out.
I persuaded Amy to let Mum do the dishes.
In the past, I would have felt guilty about letting Mum do the work, but since her memory was going, she got a lot out of doing small domestic tasks that had been so easy in the past. Besides, I could feel that Amy wanted to talk about Mum, and I couldn’t put it off any longer.
What was my plan here? Should I downplay Mum’s dementia? Was I considering directly lying to Amy? The back porch was the only place we could be private as Mum’s flat was so tiny, and I could watch her in the kitchen through the sliding door.
We got ourselves settled, and I felt guilty as I closed the sliding door completely. Amy tapped me on the arm and leaned in closer. “I like Macy and Stacy, but Mum says it feels like they’re here all the time.” She was almost whispering, as though Mum could hear us through the glass.
Normally, I’d inwardly chuckle at hearing Mum’s carers’ names together like that, but I was too worried about where Ames was going with this.