it loosely, and leans down to look her in the eye. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Landry. How are you doing today?”
When there’s no response, Cat, squeezes her frail fingers. “I brought Caden with me.” She beams at my mom. “Isn’t he handsome?”
Cat releases her hand and pats the back of it before moving around the room. “Well, this place is far too dark.” She sets about opening the curtains. “There. That’s better.”
She walks across the room to a dresser and picks up a brush. “Can I brush your hair, Mrs. Landry?”
When there’s no answer, she gently runs the brush through my mother’s thin, white hair. I try to envision a future where I’m her—old and gray and wrinkled, my mind and body broken—but I find it impossible. In some ways, my dad had it better—just a massive hit to the heart and he was gone.
Cat sets down the brush and goes into the bathroom, coming out a few moments later with a washcloth. I watch her, the stark contrast of all her life and vitality and youth against my mother’s withered fragility.
It seems easier to talk to Cat than to think of something to say to the shell in front of me. “You’re good at that.”
She smiles. “It’s not as hard as you think. Just speak and act as you would normally.”
“But this isn’t normal.”
She looks at me, her steely gaze uncanny. “Who says? It’s her normal. It’s life. All we can do is make the best of it.”
She swipes a cloth over my mom’s face. “Isn’t that right?”
My mother’s eyes flicker, but other than that, there’s nothing.
Cat straightens. “You learn a lot about life, living with a disabled child.”
I think of her niece, with her golden hair, sparkling eyes, and rigid body. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“Neither had I until Nat came into our lives and we were all forced to adapt.” Cat walks back into the bathroom and returns with a towel, which she uses to wipe the dampness away. “You’d be surprised how many people treat Natalie like she can’t understand the basics, like she needs to be talked to as if she’s three because she’s stuck in that chair. She hates it. It’s the kind of thing you don’t think of until you live with it—how condescending it is. How in trying to make yourself comfortable, you ruin it for the other person.”
Cat looks down at my mom. “Now that you’re all gussied up, how about a walk?”
When there’s no response, Cat smiles at me. “Ready?”
I shake my head. “You’re amazing.”
She laughs. “Not really.”
She’s wrong. She really is. But for some reason, she doesn’t see it.
I wonder if maybe that’s something I can do for her, something I can give her.
It’s a worthy goal—something I haven’t had in a long time.
I take a cue from her and lean down, kissing my mom on the cheek before staring into her eyes. “It’s good to see you, Momma.”
I think I spot a flicker of recognition, but then it’s gone.
I straighten and shove my hands into my pockets. “I waited too long.”
“But at least you’re not too late.”
“Thanks to you.”
“I just prodded you in the right direction. You’d have gotten here eventually.”
I take Cat’s hand and raise it to my lips. “Will you go to dinner with me tonight?”
Her lashes flutter. “In New Orleans?”
“If that’s what you want.” I’m agreeable to anything at the moment.
“Oh yeah?”
I nod.
She eyes me up and down. “What about dancing?”
I laugh. “If you insist.”
“I do. Let’s see what you’re made of. But we’ve got an afternoon ahead of us first.” Then she swishes around and pushes my mom out of the room.
All I can do is follow.
Cat
After several hours at the assisted living place, we’ve eaten dinner, drank a bottle of wine, and made our way to Frenchman’s Street, where live music pours out of open windows. After the strain of this afternoon and seeing his mom, Caden has lightened up considerably.
Things have grown easy between us as early evening slips into night. The wine has made me loose enough that everything feels warm and hazy.
We walk down the street leisurely, and I look up at the moon, full and heavy in the sky. “I love it here.”
“You do, huh?”
I nod, still staring into the darkness and allowing the warm breeze to float over my skin. “One of my favorite places in the world.”
“And where else have you been?”
My forehead creases. “Not many places, but enough to know this