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“I’m helping your dad until the nurses come back to work,” Mom said, playing along. She got a glass of water and put it up to my father’s lips. Then she asked me, “What’re you doing here today?” She had a slight edge to her voice. “I thought your dad and I’d have some time alone this morning.”

I wasn’t surprised that she didn’t want me there. “I could leave and come back another time.”

Mom looked at Dad with hope in her eyes. “Of course you should stay,” he said, the anger now gone. “Your mom and I’ll have plenty of time later.”

“Remember, Isaac, I have to go to Caroline’s granddaughter’s birthday party this afternoon,” Mom said to Dad.

“We can all visit for a little while. I love having my two girls around.”

I knew I should’ve left, but I was a rebellious teenager, and Dad was the prize. The three of us made small talk for the next half hour, until I could see Dad was getting groggy again.

“I’ll get going and let you rest,” I said. Dad didn’t reply; he was already closing his eyes. I leaned down and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll walk you out,” my mother said. I could see Jerry looking through the glass on the door like a peeping Tom. He was wearing his signature suit: gray jacket, white shirt, gray slacks, and a black tie. Mom didn’t notice him and almost pushed the door into his face. Teenage me wished she had. Jerry looked so much like our father, which I thought was ironic. He had stocky legs and a long torso. He was not athletic and loved junk food, so his man boobs were the size of an eleven-year-old girl’s. Just enough to notice, but not enough to make a statement. He was clean-shaven, as usual; his facial hair was the color of the inside of a chestnut and rarely grew. Unlike the hair on my arms and legs, which was in a constant state of fuzzy.

“You could’ve come in and seen Dad,” I said to Jerry as we closed the door behind us.

“I saw him a few days ago,” he said. Mom and Jerry and I huddled in the hall. “Did you tell her about the tests?” Jerry asked Mom but was looking at me.

“I was about to,” she said.

“What tests?” I asked, my voice echoing down the hall.

“Your dad’s doctor got back this morning, and he’s going to run a series of tests. Blood work, then brain imaging, and then a neuropsychologist will test him for cognitive deficits,” Mom said.

That many tests meant the doctor was thinking he’d find something. How was I going to keep convincing myself that Dad was just getting old or was taking some medication that had side effects? I wanted to stay in the dark.Please let them keep me in the dark.

“Maybe he has Alzheimer’s,” Jerry said. His tone made me wonder if there was a piece of him that almost enjoyed giving me bad news. I wondered if it would be immature to put my hands over my ears and hum loudly to drown him out.

“It’s not Alzheimer’s,” I said emphatically.

“Whatever it is, we need answers,” Mom said and went back in Dad’s room, leaving me alone with Jerry.

Jerry straightened up to his full five-foot-ten-inch height, towering over me. “Mom’s going to need us with Dad going downhill,” he said.

“You don’t have to be so negative. We don’t know anything yet.”

“I’m being realistic. You never could deal with stuff,” he said, turning and walking away.

“I’m dealing with this,” I called after him. “I’m dealing with it every day.” Why was he being so mean? As I watched him leave, all I could think was that I wished I had a prescription for Xanax.

I walked into the house in a daze, forgetting to close the front door.

“Maggie, the dog’s going to get out.” Jim shut the door. I didn’t say a word. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Nothing.” I sat down on the couch and clutched a throw pillow to my chest.

He sat down next to me. “Obviously it’s not nothing.”

I filled him in on how the doctor was back, and now he was going to run tests on my dad. I also told him about Dad’s hallucination and how horrible it was. I just wanted him to listen while I vented, and not try to give me a pep talk.

“I know it’s scary, but maybe it won’t be as bad as you think,” he said. “It could be his medication like you said.”

There’s that pep talk. “What if it isn’t?”

“Just this once, can you wait until you know something definitive before you start freaking out?”

“Just this once, can you not pretend everything’s going to be fine? You’re dismissing my feelings.” I was beginning to wish I hadn’t said anything.