Page 18 of Falling for You

I take a deep breath, trying to force myself to remain in the moment as we arrive at the hospital. Dad doesn’t even need to think as he pulls into a parking space, knowing exactly where to leave his car and how the ticketing system works. It makes my heart hurt.

How many times has he actually been here with Mom since I’ve been gone?

She’d hardly ever been to hospital when I was living here.

I’ve only been gone for a couple of weeks – how have things gotten that bad so quickly?

Is it because I’ve gone? Has she finally started letting go now that her two sons are on the other side of the world?

Does she think we don’t care about her any more?

‘Right,’ Dad says, clapping his hands together, pulling me out of my spiralling thoughts. ‘Ready?’

‘Sure, Dad,’ I mumble. ‘Let’s go.’

When we were children, Mom always had this incredible knack of knowing exactly what you were thinking.

Whenever she used to read my or Stevie’s mind, we’d look at her wide-eyed and gasp, ‘How did you know that?’ She’d give us a cheeky look back like it was the most obvious thing in the world and say, ‘Because I’m your mom! ’

Now, arriving at the hospital, it’s like Mom is still as tuned in to my thoughts as she was back then. Like she knew I would be terrified of seeing her all curled up and vulnerable, slightly grey-looking and fragile. So, she did something about it.

As I walk into the room, she looks as full of life as she always does. If anything, she needs to tone it down a bit or the hospital will accuse her of faking the whole thing for attention.

‘Nathaniel!’ she cries as soon as she sees me, holding her arms wide, ready to envelop me in a huge hug.

I try and ignore the tubes attached to her hand as I hug her.

She smells like pine cones, like she always does.

I like to think that she’s worn the same perfume every day for so many years that it’s just permanently part of her skin now.

‘What are you doing here?’ she says, as I sink down onto one of the plastic chairs. Dad leans forward and gives her a kiss. ‘Why aren’t you in London?’

‘I came back,’ I say. ‘I’m back for good, actually. It was just a holiday.’

Mom frowns at me, her face stern. ‘No, it wasn’t. You were going over to start a new life, a new adventure. Don’t you talk to me like I can’t remember.’

Despite myself, I laugh. God, dementia is weird. Mom couldn’t remember how to walk down a flight of stairs two nights ago, but she perfectly recalls a conversation we had last month.

Much like mine, Mom’s hair is dark and curly.

It falls down to her shoulders, but only just. Her curls are so tight that if you pulled them straight, they’d almost reach her middle.

Stevie and I used to like to do that when we were little and giggle as we let them go and they’d ping back up to her shoulder blades.

She has half-moon glasses that she has always worn on a chain and fierce, dark eyebrows which have defined her face long before the supermodels made them fashionable.

‘Well, I’m back now,’ I say. ‘Anyway, how are you? How are you feeling?’

I take her hand gently, wincing as I notice the red blisters from where she burnt herself.

‘Oh,’ she bats me off. ‘I’m fine! This is all a bit of drama over nothing. Who hasn’t fallen down the stairs once in their life? I just tripped.’

I push my lips together. This is where it gets you. She makes it all seem so ordinary and like we’re crying over nothing. She’s so stern about it that occasionally I fall for it and start second-guessing myself. Is it really dementia, or are we all just obsessing over something that’s not there?

But then she’ll try to run away from you in the middle of the night and look terrified if you try to touch her and suddenly you see it, the ugly beast with its claws firmly dug into her. You can’t deny it after that.

‘It’s been quite nice here actually,’ she continues, her tone light and conversational. ‘The nurses are wonderful. There’s one who looks just like Stevie. Have you heard from him?’

I meet her eyes. ‘Yeah, I have. He’s at work, but he sends his love.’

A line I must have used one hundred times before.

‘How are you …’ I look down at my hand entwined with hers and my heart lurches. My pinkie finger is bare. The ring has gone.

‘What?’ Mom says. ‘What is it?’

‘I …’ I stare at my hands, mentally trying to remember the last time I saw it.

Mom gave me that ring when I was about fourteen and Stevie had started wearing her jewellery.

She didn’t want me to feel left out so she gave me her emerald ring.

Since she got sick, I’ve started wearing it on my little finger.

I was wearing it at the party, I’m sure of it. I showed it to that girl … and then …

Shit. Did I leave it there?

‘Sorry,’ I say, realising that Mom is staring at me, looking worried. ‘Nothing. I just left something at a party I was at before I flew over here.’

Mom brightens, slapping me lightly on the arm. ‘A party!’ she swoons. ‘With Stevie?’

I smile reluctantly. ‘Yes. He dragged me there.’

‘How is London?’ she says, pulling her sheet further up her body. ‘I want to know everything. Have you fallen in love with Keira Knightley yet?’

I try not to laugh. Guess who watches Love Actually every Christmas?

‘Not quite.’

‘Well, have you met any nice people?’

I sigh. It seems stupid to tell Mom about a girl I’ll never see again, but she looks so happy to be chatting with me about my new life in London, and what else do I have to tell her about?

That I figured out the best bus route to and from work and I enjoy sitting on the top deck because it feels a bit like a rollercoaster?

‘There was someone at the party, actually,’ I say, and notice Dad look up from his newspaper.

Mom squeals. ‘And?’

‘I think she’s got my ring.’

Mom practically passes out. ‘You gave her a ring! Oh, Paul!’ She grabs Dad’s hand excitedly.

‘No,’ I say quickly. ‘Not like that. God, I don’t go around proposing to girls I’ve just met! What do you take me for?’

‘A romantic?’ Mom smiles and I roll my eyes at her.

‘We were at a Halloween party that Stevie dragged me to and she was dressed as a bat.’

She frowns. ‘A bat?’

‘Yeah. It was fancy dress. Or it sort of was. Her costume was the best. She made it herself.’

Mom gives me a look. ‘Very impressive.’

‘But it doesn’t matter anyway, as I ran off without getting her name, let alone her phone number. So I’ll never see her again.’ I say it quickly to try and fight off the inevitable pang I get every time the memory replays in my mind.

‘Why did you run off?’ Mom says, outraged. ‘That’s very rude, Nathaniel.’

‘Well, Dad was ringing.’

‘So? You can speak to your dad anytime!’

Mom catches a look between me and Dad and I see realisation fall on her face. Silence stretches between us as we all stare at the horrible ominous elephant in the room.

‘You know, me and your Aunt Tell went to a Halloween party once when we were teenagers. I don’t know how Tell snuck me in, I was far too young.

’ She knits her hands together, smiling.

‘She put a sheet over my head so nobody could see how young I was and told the bouncer I was a ghost. I was wearing huge heels, so I looked taller. Then as soon as we got in, I whipped it off.’ She laughs to herself.

‘It was so much fun. Your grandma was furious when she found out. Tell used to do things like that all the time. She was so naughty .’

I smile. If I hadn’t had to fly back here then I would probably be at Aunt Tell’s by now, chatting about Mom. I might even have managed to persuade her to come back to New York with me.

‘When are you going back to London, then?’ Mom asks again, breaking the silence.

‘I’m not sure I am,’ I say, trying to make my voice sound light. ‘It was a nice trip, but I’m glad to be home.’

‘Nathaniel.’ She gives me a stern look. ‘You are going back to London. I’m not having you stay here.’

‘I want to stay here.’

‘Well, I don’t want you to. I want you to go back to London so you can tell me more stories about what being a Londoner is really like.’

‘Stevie can do that.’

I want to kick myself as soon as I say it. Stevie could do that … if he ever called her.

‘Nathaniel,’ she starts again. ‘You need to go back to London. I’m fine. We’re fine.’ She reaches out and takes Dad’s hand.

His eyes have started to twinkle again.