like you’re an alien from Mars.” I look at the front door of the facility, without moving.
“It’s going to be great,” she says, patting me reassuringly.
I exhale and open the car door. “Well, here goes nothing.”
Inside the lobby, the orderly behind the front desk, Oscar, looks shocked as we approach. And I’m not surprised. In all my years of coming here, I’ve never once shown up with a plus-one.
I introduce Georgina, calling her my girlfriend, which feels amazing, and then set about leafing through the logbook, as usual, to confirm my mother’s paid “best friend” has been doing her job. When I’m satisfied she has, I slide the logbook to Georgina for her signature, and ask Oscar where I might find my mother.
Oscar glances at the wall clock. “With such nice weather, I’d try the garden first.”
And off we go.
Once inside the garden, Georgina and I immediately spot my mother from afar, sitting before an easel in a far corner, looking engrossed and attentive.
“She’s so beautiful,” Georgina whispers. “She looks every bit as lovely as in that framed photo on your desk.”
I shrug. “Mom always looks the most beautiful when she paints. It’s like a time machine for her. It’s when she’s not painting that she’s lost.”
We begin crossing the lawn, and when we’re close enough for Mom to notice our approaching movement, she does a classic double-take—followed by her face lighting up in a way I’ve never seen before. Squealing, Mom puts down her paint brush and rushes toward us. But, to my surprise, she doesn’t hug me. She hugs Georgina, like she’s known her forever.
“You’re finally here!” she says. “I’m so glad you came!”
Oh, Jesus. Well, this is new. My mother has a lot of issues, including some cognitive dysfunction, but she’s never before mistaken a stranger for someone she knows. Does she think Georgina is one of her long-deceased sisters, come back from the dead?
“Mom, no. This is my girlfriend, Georgina Ricci. You’ve never met her. She came with me from LA.”
“Hi, Mrs. Rivers,” Georgina says, putting out her hand. “I’m so happy I’m ‘finally’ here, too.”
“Eleanor.”
“Eleanor.”
“You’re beautiful, Georgina.”
“Thank you. So are you, Eleanor.”
Mom hugs me. “Hello, dear. Yes, I know I’ve never met Georgina before. You think I don’t know that?” She pulls back from our embrace and flashes me a chastising look. “I said I’m glad she’s finally here because you’ve finally found a woman you like enough to bring her to meet me.” Chuckling at my stunned expression, she addresses Georgina. “Please, tell me you like my son, as much as he likes you, or I’ll never forgive him for bringing you here, only to tease me.”
“I do like your son. I also love him very much. With all my heart.”
Mom claps. “Finally! And you?”
“I like Georgina, and love her, too. With all my heart. To the moon and back again.”
Mom squeals and grabs Georgina’s hand. “Come. Sit and talk to me while I continue painting the ocean.” She tosses over her shoulder, “Grab a couple chairs, Reed.”
“Yes, Mother.”
I carry two chairs over and get Georgina settled next to my mother, and myself settled next to Georgina, and then take a good, long look at this week’s opus. Not surprisingly, it’s more of the same. A Happy Family Portrait, featuring Mom’s lost loved ones. This time, set at the seashore.
As usual, a younger version of Mom sits on a red blanket with her two young sons—Oliver and me—and both of us are happily licking ice cream cones. One of Mom’s sisters wades in the ocean up to her knees. Another sister turns cartwheels in the sand. A third sister throws a colorful beach ball with her ill-fated mother.
Mom’s father is in this happy scene, too, as usual. Although, per protocol, he’s set apart from his other family members, just in case the pesky rumor about him setting the house fire that claimed his wife and three daughters was true.
Mom picks up her brush and begins filling in the gray-blue of the ocean. And as she paints, she peppers Georgina with questions. How did Georgina and I meet? How long have we dated? When did she know she was in love with me?
At first, I pipe in, here and there, to supplement Georgina’s replies. But, quickly, it’s clear I’m a third wheel. Persona non grata. So, I sit back and listen, feeling relieved and amused and, surprisingly, relaxed. After a bit, Mom starts asking Georgina personal questions that have nothing to do with me. Does