taxes. I ask myself why I would want the added headache and flip to the next page.
Down the hall, the laugh track hits a crescendo, and my eyebrows make a valiant effort not to knit a unibrow across my forehead. While Lindsey gives me her references, I look at the next name on the list, At-Home Eldercare Agency. They have several phone numbers and want me to call and schedule a consultation in their office before they’ll even come and assess Mom.
“I can be there tomorrow at seven a.m.,” Lindsey says.
I’d only need her until I find Mom a new care facility. Two months. Three months max. “You’re hired.”
I hang up the phone and realize that I didn’t write down her references or anything else. She sounded young, and I wonder how long she’s had her degree. I wonder if she parties like I did when I was twenty-six. I wonder if I’m inviting a wacko into my home. One wacko around here is quite enough.
I plant my palms on the desk and stand. I can’t worry about that now. If she’s dropped off by a prison bus tomorrow, I’ll worry. Right now, I’m exhausted and want to curl up in bed, but first, I have to give Mom her sleeping medication and help her change. She chooses a leopard-print nightie to match her bath cap. “Isn’t this pretty?” she asks as she pets the marabou trim around the collar. “I got it on the Google net.”
She means the internet. She may have lost a good portion of her ability to read, but she knows how to get online and shop like a boss. “Yep, it’s special, all right.”
“It reminds me of Tina at Global Travel.”
Tina worked with Mom and she’d never met an animal print that she didn’t drape around her neck. “That’s when we lived in Tacoma.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t Reno?”
“I’m sure.” Mom worked at Harrah’s in Reno dealing cards. I hated when she worked there, but it was better than when she worked at Daniel Law Office and Mrs. Daniel threatened to kill her at the company Christmas party.
“Oh. I thought for sure it was Reno.” One thing I will say about Mom, she always had a job. From blackjack dealer to receptionist at a law office and everything in between, Mom always worked to support us. Sometimes we skated close to the poverty line, but it was never on account of unemployment.
I kiss her good night on the cheek and think about locking her in her room so she can’t roam around like when she stayed with me before, and Wynonna found her in the pantry straightening cans and hiding my chef knives. The bathroom is down the hall, though, and she might need to use it. I keep the hall light on for her just in case and leave the door open a crack.
I shut my bedroom door behind me, and I pull on my favorite flannel nightshirt and let out a sigh as I slide between the sheets. I’m tempted to take something to help me sleep, but I can’t with Mom in the condo. Light from the hallway falls into my room, and I fully expect it to keep me awake as my mind races over the details of the day. Much to my surprise, I am pulled into the deepest layer of sleep, the kind where you don’t move or think or dream. The kind that is very hard to wake from, even when something shakes you.
“Lou Ann.”
My eyes are heavy, and I struggle to crack them open.
“Are you awake?”
“No,” I mumble into my pillow.
“Wake up, Lou.”
“Mom?” I blink several times before my eyes stay open long enough to see Mom staring at me from across my pillow. She’s in bed next to me, and for one groggy moment, I think she is here to spoon. Instead, she reaches for my hand. Her palm is incredibly warm, and I can feel it all the way to my heart.
The light from the hall has fallen across the end of the bed, and she speaks to me through the gray shadows separating us. “I want to go home.”
Her hand reminds me of when I was young and had the flu or strep throat and she used to comfort me. Or when we’d lie awake in her bed talking for hours until we fell asleep. I always felt so close to her… right before a new man pushed us apart.
“I want to go home,”