Page 38 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Pilot
“I visit my mother.”I stood, searching for my phone.“At the nursing home.Or if I’m away from Huntington Harbor, they put her on the phone at eleven.”
I found my phone in the bedroom and went out onto the deck, needing fresh air for what always proved to be an emotional conversation.The mountain view spread before me, majestic and indifferent to human suffering.I sank into a wooden swing, my fingers trembling slightly as I dialed the familiar number.
“Sunrise Memory Care, this is Nurse Sanchez,” came the cheerful voice.
“Hi, it’s Felicity Foster.I’m calling for my weekly chat with Susan Foster.”
“Of course, Ms.Foster.Let me bring the phone to her room.”
I heard the familiar sounds of the nursing home, the soft music, distant conversations, and the squeak of orthopedic shoes on linoleum.What version of my mother would I get today?The confused one who thought I was a friendly nurse?The angry one who demanded to know where her daughter was, not recognizing me on the video call?Or, most painful of all, the occasionally lucid one who would apologize for forgetting me before slipping away again mid-sentence?
“Hello?”My mother’s image appeared on the screen.Her voice, once strong and confident, now carried the fragile, uncertain quality that had become her signature in recent years.
“Hi, Mom.It’s Felicity.”I forced myself to smile and inject cheerfulness into my tone.
“Oh!How lovely of you to call.”It was the polite response of a woman speaking to a stranger.My heart sank.Today was a bad day.
“How are you feeling?”I asked, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“Just fine, dear.The nurses here are very kind.”A pause.“Do you work with my daughter?Felicity should be visiting soon.She wants to be a pilot, you know.Flying all over the world.”
The familiar pain pierced my chest.“That’s right, she does.”
“Such a smart girl.Always independent.Takes after her father that way.”Her voice drifted, lost in memories.“I worry about her flying those planes, but she’s always been stubborn.”
I blinked back tears, staring at the mountains beyond the wooden railing.“I’m sure she’s careful.”
“Oh, very careful.Safety first, she always says.”Pride colored her voice.Pride for a daughter she didn’t recognize was talking to her right now.“Will you tell her to call me when you see her?It’s been so long since she visited.”
“I called you last week, Mom,” I whispered, too softly for her to hear.
“Pardon?”
“I’ll tell her,” I said louder.“I’m sure she misses you very much.”
“That’s sweet of you, dear.What did you say your name was again?”
I closed my eyes.“Felicity.”
“That’s my daughter’s name!What a coincidence.”She laughed, the sound achingly familiar yet somehow wrong.“Are you a new nurse?”
“Something like that.”I couldn’t bear to correct her.What was the point?
“Well, I should rest now.These old bones get tired so quickly these days.”
“Of course, Mom.I love you.”The words spilled out automatically.
“That’s nice, dear.Goodbye now.”
The call ended, and I sat frozen, my phone clutched in my hand as tears slid silently down my cheeks.Each conversation was a fresh loss.A new reminder that my mother was fading piece by piece, that the woman who had raised me, who had encouraged my dreams of flying, who had been my first and fiercest supporter, now saw me as a kind stranger.
I didn’t hear Tanner approach until the swing dipped with his weight beside me.He didn’t speak, didn’t ask questions, just draped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me against his solid warmth.
“She doesn’t know who I am anymore,” I said after several minutes, my voice thick with tears.“Some days she thinks I’m a nurse.Other days, a friendly visitor.But never her daughter.”
His fingers stroked gentle patterns on my arm.“How long has she been ill?”
“Early-onset dementia.Four years now.”I wiped at my tears with the back of my hand.“That’s why I needed this job so badly.The specialized care facility costs more than I could afford on my regular salary.A flight for Discreet Talent Connections pays for months of her care.”
