up from her spot on her loveseat. A smile breaks over her face. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Halting mid-step, I study her face, her gaze. She’s focused on me, looking at me directly. She tilts her head to the side, assessing me.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Come in, Beau.”
Relief is swift and almost embarrassing. She knows it’s me. I cross the room, bend down, and press a kiss to her cheek. “How are you today, Mom?”
“Today?” She tucks back a lock of hair that has escaped her scraped back bun. When she readies for bed tonight, she’ll take out the pins she’s carefully arranged—a lifelong ritual—and brush out the length that falls to her waist. Only then will the few gray streaks she has really show against her still black mane. She pats the bun as though checking it’s still there. “What day is it today?”
“Friday, Mom.”
She looks down with a frown. “Friday? But… yesterday was Tuesday, wasn’t it?”
I sit down on the loveseat beside her, pick up the remote, and pause her movie. “Yesterday was Thursday. I called while you were watching Singing in the Rain, remember?”
“Mm.” She flicks a furtive gaze to mine. She’s embarrassed because she doesn’t remember. I hate that she’s embarrassed.
“You ready for lunch?”
A relieved smile settles over her face. “Yes, where are we going?”
I stand and offer her my hand. “Just to the dining hall today.”
She takes my hand, rises with grace, and tucks her arm around mine. “We’re not…” She looks up at me, and I can read her hesitation. “We’re not going to Riverside Inn?”
I shake my head but put on a smile. “Not today. I’ll take you on Sunday, okay?”
Mom frowns again. “What day is it today?”
I hold my smile in place. “Friday.”
She mouths the word as if committing it to memory.
We leave her room, and I steer her down the hallway toward the dining room. The smell of fried food blankets the air, and Mom perks up.
“Is it... You know…” Grasping for the word, she gestures with the hand not clutching my arm.
“Yeah. It’s catfish. Catfish Friday.”
“I love catfish,” she murmurs.
“I know.” Honestly, it was one of the reasons Val and I chose Camelia Court over the other assisted living options we looked at last year. The rooms are sunny and overlook a well maintained courtyard; it’s just a five-minute drive from Northside; they serve catfish on Fridays.
And they hold dance classes every Tuesday and Thursday mornings.
I sit Mom down at an empty table and grab us each a tray. The cafeteria staffers smile. Some of them greet me by name, and they know to add the cost of my plate to Mom’s account. She’s not the only one who likes catfish.
I set down the trays and get us each an iced tea before joining her again.
She looks around, studying the faces of the other diners, all of them at least ten years older than she is. “Where’s David?”
My Uncle David is Mom’s older brother and one of her three favorite people in the world.
I pick up my fork. “Nonc comes on Mondays.”
She puts a hand to her brow, cringing. “Oh, right.” She shakes her head. “I’m so sorry… You must get…so… “
She trails off, and I wait. I wait because I want her to find the words. But they are getting harder and harder for her to find. When she gives me a helpless look, I shake my head.
“It’s alright, Mom. David’s probably at the studio.”
And that one word makes her straighten. Her eyes glint. “Oh, he is?”
“Yeah, it’s Friday. He’ll have classes until six.”
She blinks up at me, the look in her eyes all hope. “Can we go?”
I should have known better. She always asks to go to the dance studio when I mention it. Sometimes even when I don’t.
“I have to go back to school after lunch, but we can go on Sunday.”
The hope dims just a little. “Is that tomorrow?”
I stifle a sigh. Impatience and frustration don’t do any good. “It’s the day after tomorrow.”
“Oh, I... I....” She looks down at her plate, spears a piece of her filet, and takes a bite. “Mmm. This is such good… such good...”
“It’s really good catfish.”
After our plates are cleared, I walk her to the courtyard. There’s a path around the perimeter and a network of walkways around benches, shrubs, and a fountain. She’s free to come out here on her own, but her aides say she never does.
I think she’s afraid she