Page 62 of Vengeful King

“Mom?”

She turns to me, her smile vague. She pats my hand, but her gaze is distant. “Oh. Hello, dear.”

I know she doesn’t recognize me. Her tone is polite; she doesn’t hold my hand or lean in for a hug. She just acknowledges me like she would a nurse, then turns back to the window.

Lachlan is standing in the corner, watching, but I try not to think about him.

“Mom, I’m sorry I haven’t visited,” I say, keeping my voice firm but low. “The nurses said you asked for me.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she says. She turns to look at me again, her smile empty but cheerful. “You tell them I don’t need anything. I’m happy as a clam.”

“Okay, Mom. I didn’t get to pick up flowers today; I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s fine. It’s lovely outside anyway.”

I swallow hard. I can see the glimmer in her eyes fading. She’s getting further away, drawn by some memory of some time or place she can’t quite grasp. I wish she’d stay with me, but I know I can’t stop it. All I can do is watch her go.

I sit by her bed and resist the urge to reach out to her. I don’t want to startle or scare her. I’ve had visits descend into painful fits because she didn’t know me, didn’t understand that I wasn’t a threat.

It’s the ugly side of this disease that no one will talk about.

So I just stay near her because it’s all that I can think to do. I sit at her side and try to talk to her, hoping something I say will spark recognition and bring her back.

I’ve been told that nothing is guaranteed when she’s like this, far away. There’s little chance she’ll latch onto anything I say. But I still try because even if it never works, I can’t do nothing. I can’t sit here and watch her fade away while I wallow in silence, wishing I could turn back time to when things were better.

I feel exposed like this. It feels like Lachlan is watching my every move, taking it all in. Seeing me. It’s vulnerable, almost intimate. It’s a part of my life I rarely show to anyone, much less a part I’d think to show to him.

I try not to focus on him, but my mother notices him. “Who’s this?”

I don’t know if she’s coming back. Maybe she just knows he’s not a nurse, or maybe she’s finally registering that it’s me, and she’s wondering who the strange man with me is. I try not to get my hopes up, but the possibility makes my heart thump.

“A friend,” I say. I don’t know what else to tell her.

I don’t want to tell her his name. I don’t trust that she’s out of danger yet. He may still decide she’s a risk, that she’ll repeat anything to anyone. I don’t want to put him in a position where he makes that call.

She doesn’t ask anyway, and there’s a flicker of recognition in her eyes when she looks at me. It’s that faint gaze that tells me she knows me, that she may not remember that I’m her daughter but she recognizes my face.

It’s all I can ask for.

The visit is hard. It’s a harsh thing, pulling me back to reality from the whirlwind I’ve been living for a week. But I’m reminded of all my mother is struggling through, and I’m reminded of my part in it. She has no one to count on but me. When I’m gone, it matters.

I want to promise I won’t disappear again, but I know it’s out of my hands. Right now, all I can do is tell her that I love her and talk about memories we have, as if I can stop them from leaving her mind like sand through a sieve.

I just talk to her, Lachlan behind me, as long as I can. I talk until the sun lowers outside her window, and then I know I have to leave.

I stand slowly and go to kiss her forehead. I can barely smell her perfume, the familiar lily-of-the-valley that haunts my memories of her when I was a child. I have to force tears back when I see how she smiles, fond but still distant.

“Goodbye,” I say, and I try not to feel like it’s the thousandth time I’ve said it. Like every time, it feels more like I’m saying it to a different person.

I step back from her bed to leave. Lachlan is still there by the door, silent, taking it in.

I don’t know why, but I want to say something. So I whisper to him as I leave.

“Thank you.”

I don’t have anything more for him. I feel exhausted, used up, done. There’s nothing left. So I lead the way out, wanting to look over my shoulder the whole way, hoping this isn’t the last time I ever see my mother.

CHAPTER23

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