Page 9 of Every Silent Lie

The room is dark, the curtains drawn, only a glimmer of the winter sun peeking through a small gap at the edge. I see her silhouette on the bed, hear her light snore. The second the door clicks closed, she stirs, so I hurry over to the lamp and flick it on, letting the soft light illuminate the room so she can see me when she opens her eyes. Then I pull a chair over, draping my coat and scarf over the back, take a seat, and wait.

Her head turns, her eyelids flicker, and the moment she opens her eyes, I know today is a bad day. Her frown confirms it. “It’s Camryn,” I say, watching as she tries to figure out who I am. If she knows me. Most of the time, she doesn’t, is adamant she’s never seen me before in her life. It’s just another layer of pain to the endless pain.

Her grey eyebrows pinch more. “Where’s Noah?”

I swallow, feeling my back pushing into the chair. “He doesn’t visit anymore.” I don’t bother telling her who I am beyond my name. It’s a waste of time and energy and only stresses her out. “Have you eaten?”

“What do you mean, he doesn’t visit anymore? He was here just yesterday.”

“He was?” I say, just as the door opens and a nurse enters.

“Camryn,” she says, smiling mildly as she assesses my mother. “It’s been a few days.”

I smile tightly, not feeling the need to explain myself. “It’s been crazy at work.”

Her hum is borderline condescending.

“Who’s Camryn? I don’t know no Camryn.” Mum starts struggling to sit up, her emaciated arms flailing, every vein visible through her paper-thin skin. “Get out!”

“Now, now, Celeste,” the nurse coos, calm as can be. “This is your daughter.”

“Where’s Noah?” she yells, her voice broken, unrecognisable. “I want to see Noah.”

“Excuse me.” I get up, feeling the walls closing in on me, and make my hasty exit, resting my back against the wall in the corridor, looking up at the ceiling briefly before the endless baubles force my gaze to my boots.

The nurse joins me after a few moments. Her smile is drenched in sympathy I just can’t take. “It’s the Christmas carols service soon. It would be lovely if you could join us.”

“I’m working.”

“But I haven’t told you when it is.”

I push my back away from the wall and pull my coat on as I walk away. “She won’t want me there.”

“She can’t help it, Camryn,” she calls. “You know that.”

“I know that, Deirdre,” I murmur, pulling my phone out of my pocket as I reach the double doors that lead into reception. I hit the button to alert the lady on the desk I need letting out, my eyes scanning the space for her as I make a call.

“Hey,” he says in answer.

“You need to come see Mum.” I hit the button again, getting hotter and hotter.

“I did.”

“When?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“It was the end of October, before you went on a three-week holiday.”

“I’m busy, Cam.”

“So am I.” I see the lady appear behind the reception area, but she doesn’t look this way and disappears again into the office, so I hit the button repeatedly, my breathing becoming laboured.

“You’re the daughter. It’s your job to look after her. I’m paying for that outrageously expensive care home, Cam. I do what I can. You’re local, it’s easier for you.”

“Easy?” I blurt, starting to pound the glass with the side of my fist. “You think it’s easy coming here for her to look at me blankly? For her to ask for?—”

“It’s a good distraction for you.”