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Damien parked Sanders’ car outside the Sungroves Nursing Home, but found it difficult to reach for the door handle.
He’d been avoiding this place since Jacob moved their mother into the facility. Over time he’d seen her mind slip- ping from her grip, from random moments of forgetfulness to days without a coherent thought. It had been over a year since she was assigned a bed in room 305 and, in there, he feared to see what little was left of the woman who raised him.
Within those walls could be the final clue he’d been looking for, locked inside a mind without a combination. He’d have to reach what few synapses were left that could connect her to her past.
One step through the sliding glass doors and Damien was hit with a wave of unpleasant aromas.
Urine. Feces. Bleach.
Among them, the faint smell of death.
The halls were clean and the atmosphere, bright. He passed a large room with a television, in front of which were occupied wheel chairs lined up like cars at a drive-in.
Damien scanned the room, but didn’t spot his mother’s red hair touched with gray.
He kept walking.
As he made his way through the halls, he found the nurses and assistants appeared happy with their work, doing what they could for those unable to care for themselves, yet there was an overwhelming sense of the inevitable that permeated the building. This was to be the residents’ last stop and the attendees knew it.
Each one he passed greeted Damien with a happy smile laden with empathy, as if they could sense the burden he was carrying.
He stopped at the doorway of room 305 next to a white- board sign with the handwritten name Dotty Hill. He looked into the room. The curtains were closed and the woman in the bed looked thin and frail. The gray had replaced most of the red and her hands lay atop her like a body in an opened casket. Her chest moved to a gentle rhythm and, as Damien approached her, saw that her eyes were closed.
He eased a rolling chair next to her bed and beheld his mother. The years away from her steamrolled through him, catching him off guard, and he fought back a torrent of tears. Unable to see his mother’s decline, he now hated himself for the minutes he had spent away from her.
She looked as peaceful as when he was a boy and would sneak into her bedroom to lay next to her. With his father gone, there was room for her children to ball up next to her. As if with a sixth sense, she would remain asleep, yet pull her sons close.
A part of Damien wanted to retreat to that childhood, lay his head on her chest, and feel the safety of her embrace. Then, as now, her peaceful sleep hid the harsh reality that awaited her. Back then, it was too little money and too much violence. Here, it was a town she grew up in, with people that loved her, which had now grown foreign to her.
Jacob had been pushing Damien to visit their mother, but he avoided it out of fear. Now, being with her, he finally understood. At some point in the near future, this bed would be empty, then taken by another whose life was growing short. Whether she recognized Damien or not didn’t matter. He recognized her and his memories could fill those she had forgotten.
All except those of her first date with his father.
He placed his hand on her arm, her skin cool, but not cold, and gently shook her.
“Mom?” Damien said. “Mom. I need you to wake up.”
Her eyes fluttered open and she turned her head toward him.
“Is it time for my medicine?” she asked.
“No, Mom.”
She reached up and touched his face, smiling. Her fingers moved from his cheek to his chin and her expression shifted to confusion.
“Do I know you?” she asked.
“Yes, Mom. I’m Damien.”
“I had a son named Damien. He was a handsome boy, like you. I thought he was going to be a great man, but he dropped out of school and works at the bookstore. So much potential, wasted.”
“Mom, that was years ago. I got my GED. I married Raquel. I’m going to be a police officer.”
“You are?”
“Yes.”
“My son, Damien, always talked about being a police officer.”
“Mom, I am your son Damien.”
“Now, Jacob, my other boy, he’s always been a sweet- heart. He’s studying to be a priest now. Most parents don’t want their kids entering religious life, but I couldn’t have been more proud. He’s in the seminary. Only a few more years and he’ll be ordained.”
“Jacob is a priest now. He comes to visit you every week.”
“He does?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“And who are you?”
“Damien.”
“I have a son named Damien. Not too many parents choose that name. I’ll have to introduce you to him. As a matter of fact, he works at the bookstore. You stop by and tell him I sent you.”
“Mom, I’m your son. Don’t you remember? You came to my wedding. I married Raquel. We’re… Mom, you’re going to be a grandmother. I’m going to be a father.”
Her eyes lit up and she grabbed his hand. “Really?”
“Really.”
“I always wanted grandchildren. Only one of my sons can give me that now.”
Damien’s heart sank. It was if her mind stopped creating memories years ago, or her dementia had been stealing them from her, one day, month and year at a time.
He glanced at his watch.
“Mom, can you tell me about your first date with Dad?” he asked.
She looked past him to the window.
“It’s so dark in here,” she said. “Can you open the blinds for me?”
“Sure.”
Damien hopped up, pulled the blinds open, and returned to his seat.
“Now, about your first date?”
She straightened her neck and furrowed her brow. “Have we met?” she asked.
Damien let out a frustrated sigh.
“I’m Damien, your son. Can you tell me about your first date with your husband?”
Her eyes drifted from the present to the past and a warmth brightened within her.
“Cowboy Joe’s is where we met, out on Route 40. Me and my girlfriends went there twice a week. They were looking for boyfriends, but I went to dance. Getting a boy was easy. Finding a good dance partner, that was hard. Most of ‘em had two left boots, until Earl started coming. He would come and go, be gone for two weeks, then home for one. He had crazy hips. Not like Elvis, but hips that were smooth, allowed his feet to slide and stomp, move and spin, like he was born on a dance floor.”
Damien smiled. He realized he had only heard the abridged version of his parent’s courtship. As she spoke, it was as if he was in the bar with her, watching them line dance in the smoky room.
“Then what happened?”
“He tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away. I wasn’t having any of that. I wasn’t that easy, not like my friends. I had standards. You gotta earn my lips. They don’t kiss for free.”
“So, your first date was at Cowboy Joe’s?”
“Date? Heavens no. Flirtations, yes. Our date didn’t come until two weeks later when he returned to town.”
“Where did he take you on your first date?”
Damien’s mother smiled and glanced at her son, then glanced again.
“I’m sorry, who are you?”