Page 3 of Families and Other Enemies

In the real Kellen Adams, she meant. In Aunt Cora’s daughter.

Dr. Hawkinson continued. “It’s kind of you to come to her in her hour of need. So frequently, in occasions where the family bond is damaged or broken, the family members never visit. We here at the memory care center do understand. We do. At the same time, I think you’ll be happier, as her daughter, with contact and perhaps some closure.”

“Yes. That’s something I thought, too.”

Dr. Hawkinson smiled. “Her moods are a trial for the nurses at times, but they’re well trained, I assure you. They know to expect patients to have trouble processing old memories while being unable to remember what their shoes look like today or whether they’ve eaten breakfast.”

“I can see how that would be difficult, even for the sweetest of dispositions.”

“I don’t tell you this to scare you.” Dr. Hawkinson kept such excellent eye contact Kellen felt she could not look away. “This portion of the disease can last years, or it could end in a moment. But she is not likely to die for a long time. Her health otherwise is top-notch.”

“She always was a stickler for good nutrition and walking everywhere, even in the summer heat.” Kellen’s own memories were rushing back at her, but she pushed them down in order to focus. “Doctor, I understand. This isn’t going to be an easy visit. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Let me show you to her room, then.” Dr. Hawkinson led the way into the room. In her brisk, professional voice, she spoke to the woman inside. “Mrs. Adams, I’ve brought you a visitor. Do you recognize her?”

Cora sat in the winged easy chair, her feet encased in pink scuffs, looking small and lost.

CORA RAE ADAMS:

FEMALE, 63 YO, 5'5", 135 LBS, CAUCASIAN ANCESTRY, AUNT BY MARRIAGE. SOFT-SPOKEN, GIVEN TO COOL REPROACH AND CONDUCTOR OF MASTERFUL GUILT TRIPS, A PILLAR OF CORRECTNESS AND STRICT PARENTING. ONCE PRETTY, NOW OLD BEFORE HER TIME: STOOPED SHOULDERS, WHITE HAIR, STRANGE GLASSY SHADE OF LIGHT BLUE EYES BEHIND BENT PLASTIC-FRAMED GLASSES.

Aunt Cora studied the two women without recognition, then returned to plucking at the fringe of the afghan in her lap and watching her fingers as if the motion surprised and fascinated her.

“Take the seat opposite her. Sometimes it takes a few minutes to get her attention.” Dr. Hawkinson leaned over and placed her hands over Aunt Cora’s, stilling the restless movements. “Mrs. Adams, you have a visitor.”

Aunt Cora looked up again, and this time her eyes focused and narrowed on Kellen’s face.

Kellen tensed, a girl trembling and guilty before a judgmental aunt.

In a rigid, cold voice, Aunt Cora said, “You’ve finally come to visit your ailing mother?”

Aunt Cora’s lack of recognition was a complication Kellen hadn’t expected. Of course she had presented herself to the facility as Kellen Adams, but all unthinking, she had expected her aunt to know her. The cousins looked alike. Of course they did. But Aunt Cora had seen them every day of their young lives. Surely she would know...but apparently she didn’t.

Nurse Warren stuck his head in the door. “Dr. Hawkinson, we need you in Mr. Brenner’s room.”

Dr. Hawkinson didn’t hesitate. “Excuse me a moment,” she said to Kellen, and disappeared from the room.

Kellen didn’t blame her; she wanted to disappear, too. She slid into the chair opposite Aunt Cora. She glanced at the door to make sure Dr. Hawkinson was really gone, and said, “No, Aunt Cora. I’m not Kellen. It’s me, Ceecee.”

“Don’t tell me who you are. You’re my daughter, Kellen.” Cora sat up straighter, her hands clenching the afghan as if she would tear it. “You’re a lesbian!”

Uh-oh. Not only had Aunt Cora confused her daughter and her niece, she remembered the most inconvenient fact about Cousin Kellen. Cousin Kellen had indeed been a lesbian, a woman deeply in love with another woman.

“You insist on continuing your ridiculous lifestyle choice regardless of my feelings. I gave you everything, and this is how you repay me! I want grandchildren to comfort me in my old age.” Aunt Cora leaned forward, her blue eyes now vivid with rage.

Kellen should have explained she wasn’t Cora’s daughter, but rather her niece. She should have focused on breaking the news to Aunt Cora that her daughter was dead. She should have done a lot of things, but Aunt Cora had caught her by surprise, and she stammered, “L-lesbians can have children.”

“I don’t want to hear it. You insisted on telling your father about your girlfriend. You announced that you loved her. You had a choice, and you made the wrong one. Immoral. Disgusting. I raised you better than that!”

In some cool part of her mind, Kellen noted that this tirade was sparked by Aunt Cora’s wounded parental pride.

“How the neighbors gossiped!”

Kellen knew she was making a mistake, but the lack of logic drove her to say it. “How did the neighbors know if you didn’t tell them?”

Aunt Cora’s face turned so red Kellen feared a heart attack. “You dare.”

Get back on track. Tell her the truth. “Aunt Cora, I’m not Kellen. I’m your niece, Ceecee. I’m not a lesbian, but Kellen told me about her love for her girlfriend, and I was happy for her.”

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