Summertime Guests - Wendy Francis Page 0,86

challenge. Even when the kids were little, this was the natural order of things. But Ben, her quiet, reserved child, has surprised Claire these last few weeks, shuttling her back and forth to appointments, shouldering the bulk of responsibility when it comes to her health.

And while the doctor talks, Ben takes copious notes, asks thoughtful questions. At each appointment, he calmly files away any new information as if it’s the same as keeping track of the flurry of baseball statistics he used to memorize as a young boy. It’s astonishing how much he reminds her of Walt during these sessions! So matter-of-fact, respectful. Not one mention of chakras or crystals. The doctor said she might have anywhere from one to several more years to enjoy, years when the graceful contours of her children’s faces will remain familiar to her. When Fiona will visit and Claire will remember her sweet granddaughter’s name and might even recall her favorite kind of cookie—chocolate-chip oatmeal—and will know that the dollhouse Fiona loves to play with (Amber’s old toy house) is upstairs in the guest-room closet waiting for her. Even though the more mundane details of daily life—like remembering whether or not she has showered, turned the kettle off, returned a phone call—might begin to slip away. Naturally, the doc can’t make any promises.

It’s the thought of not knowing, not recognizing the people who are most dear to her that breaks her. She can handle losing a word here and there. She can even come to grips with leaving her job. And an episode, while terrifying when she’s in it, is short-lived. Somehow she knows that if she’s patient enough, she’ll reach the other side of it. But once those episodes become permanent, when she’s not even aware that she’s staring blankly into the eyes of her own children? Well, that part she can’t let herself consider right now. Not fully. It’s simply too terrifying.

Her secret, though, is one that she knows she won’t be able to hold on to much longer.

* * *

When the man dressed in a hotel uniform knocks on the door of room 1018, the guest who opens it smiles gamely at him. She’s holding a glass with a celery stick in it that could be tomato juice or something stronger, perhaps a Bloody Mary.

“Hello,” she says and tucks a piece of hair behind one ear. “Can I help you?”

He’s immediately struck by how young she appears up close—and how attractive she is. He’s been told she’s sixty-one, but the past few days he’s been following her from afar so it’s been hard to tell. Her skin is smooth, and her eyes are a bright, bright blue. The effect is almost startling. She’s wearing a yellow sundress with daisies embroidered along the bottom. He nearly forgets his speech. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” he says. “I was checking to see if you needed a set of fresh towels?” He holds out a stack of crisp, white towels.

“Oh, no thank you. I have too many as it is. Thanks, though. I appreciate it.”

“No problem at all. Is there anything else I might get you?”

She tilts her head, as if considering, then says, “No, don’t think so. I’m all set. Thanks, again.”

“You’re welcome. Have a nice day, ma’am.” When she shuts the door, the man moves swiftly to the elevator and punches the button for the ground floor. As he exits the elevator, he tosses the fresh towels into a rolling cart of soiled linens and heads out to the Seafarer’s front lawn, where he places his call at exactly 11:45 a.m.

“Hello, sir. I just checked in on your mother. She’s safely back in her hotel room, as she told your sister. She had a drink in hand, perhaps a Bloody Mary?” He listens to the response. “Yes, she gave us a bit of a scare there, didn’t she, among the fishes? But she made her way back to the hotel all right. I would have intervened, if needed.” He hesitates. “I should add that your mother appeared to be in good spirits and had her wits about her when I spoke to her briefly.” He waits for the response on the other end. “Very well. I’m glad to have been of service. I’ll stay until your sister arrives at the hotel, then. Once I see that Ms. O’Dell is with her, I’ll conclude my services. You’re very welcome. Take care. And, sir? My best to your mom. She seems like a lovely