Page 86 of Friend Me

The tension left my shoulders, and I collapsed from my squat to sit on the linoleum. The grocery bag clunked to the floor. “Yeah, Dad. She’s gone. Can you come out from under the table?” How had he gotten under there, anyway, with his bum knee?

He scooted out using his hands and his good leg. I stood first and then pulled him to his feet and helped him sit in one of the kitchen chairs. “What happened?”

“I couldn’t find her. I couldn’t find Maggie.”

I looked up at the wall behind her place at the table to find her photo. But the framed picture was gone. Huh. Maybe that’s what he was talking about. I’d look for it later.

Dad rubbed his knee. The crawl under the table hadn’t done it any good. “Does your leg hurt? Want a pain pill?”

“Please.” The hopeless tremor in his voice sent a chill across my skin.

I fetched him a glass of water and his prescription pill and watched him swallow it. Seeing the deep lines around his eyes and mouth, I asked, “Do you want to go lie down while I make dinner?”

His smile was strained. “That’d be good.”

I helped him to his room and tucked the blanket around him. I kissed his forehead, which smoothed out under my lips. “I’ll come check on you in a bit.”

“All right.” His eyelids were already fluttering shut.

I cleaned the living room for the second time that day, and then I made my mother’s meatloaf. While it baked, I researched early onset Alzheimer’s Disease and dementia support groups on my laptop.

That night, I ate dinner alone and tasted nothing.

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