Page 24 of That Last Carolina Summer

I quietly left my mother’s room and made my way to the top of the stairs, peering down into the darkness with the stray thought that Addie might have decided to sleep down there.

I was halfway down the steps when the woman’s face from my dream drifted from my subconscious.

It was Liam Fitch’s receptionist, Stephanie.

Our interaction had been brief yet memorable.

At one time, I would have warned her of what would happen.

Now I was more wary of the attention and was reluctant to make myself vulnerable again.

I also couldn’t think of a scenario that made sense for me to call her and let her know that she would fall off her bike at some undetermined day and time.

Besides, I told myself, people fell off their bikes every day, and she hadn’t been—or wouldn’t be—seriously hurt.

I continued justifying my inaction as I went down the stairs.

I threw open the front door and stepped out onto the porch. Our house was the only residence shrouded in darkness, but the neighbor’s outdoor lights illuminated our empty driveway. I hadn’t expected to see my mother’s car, but I was hoping to find some indication that Addie had made it home.

I turned on my phone’s screen and checked for messages to see if Addie had thought to let me know that she wasn’t coming home.

I wasn’t surprised to see that she hadn’t.

Just in case, I sent her a text, listening inside the quiet house for a responding ping.

But the only sounds were the dripping of the day’s rain from the eaves and the incessant ticking of the grandfather clock.

It was much cooler outside, so I closed the door behind me and sat down on one of the front porch rocking chairs to wait for her.

I wasn’t going back to sleep anyway. A spark of worry for my sister flickered briefly then just as quickly diminished.

Addie not coming home wasn’t unexpected.

She knew lots of people who would be happy to offer her a couch or bed for the night.

She was like a cat who always ended up on her feet no matter how far she fell.

My rocking was frantic at first then slipped into a more relaxed pace.

I remembered sitting in these exact chairs with Aunt Sassy, watching her hands sign.

Worrying is a lot like sitting in a rocking chair: it gives you something to do but won’t get you anywhere.

I smiled at the memory and closed my eyes as I listened to the sounds of millions of crying insects rubbing their gossamer wings together in a vain attempt to be heard over the din.

Hot sun struck my face, popping my eyes open as I found myself slumped over the arm of my chair, telling me that I had somehow fallen asleep.

I winced as I sat up and attempted to straighten my neck.

A car-door slam brought my attention to the foot of the driveway in time to see an old rust-colored Camaro pulling away and my sister approaching the house.

She absently tugged on the ends of her sleeves as she walked, her shoulders rounded.

She appeared defeated, which was a strange word to attach to Addie.

I stood, needing to hold on to the railing while the blood returned to my extremities, and waited for my sister to notice me.

When she spotted me, she straightened, pulling her shoulders back. “You’re up early,” she said, as she walked past me and opened the front door. She stepped back quickly. “Why is it so hot inside?”

I grabbed the door and pushed on it, slamming it in her face. “Because we don’t have any air-conditioning, Addie. It got shut off because the bill hadn’t been paid despite repeated attempts to let us know that we were late.”

My voice shook as I brought my face closer to hers. “Our mother and your daughter are upstairs sleeping in their own sweat because you couldn’t be bothered to open an envelope. Do you have any idea how pathetic that is?”

Her face blanched, but she tried to hide behind it with a familiar smirk. “Take a chill pill. All you need to do is pay the bill.”

She reached for the door handle, but I knocked her arm away, hitting it harder than I needed to.

“Ouch.” She rubbed her forearm. “That hurt.”

“Good. You deserved it. But one more oblivious comment from you, and I swear I will not be able to restrain myself.”

Addie crossed her arms. “Fine. So, what do you want me to do?”

I sat in the rocking chair. “Sit down. We need to talk.”

“Just do it quickly. Joe’s coming back at nine to take me to the garage to pick up my car.”

“Is Joe your new boyfriend?”

Her shudder was almost indiscernible, so slight that I might have imagined it. “I guess you can call him that.”

“I was going to say that you haven’t grown up at all, but I changed my mind. At least you know the guy’s name now.”

She half stood, but I held her back. “We need to talk about Mother’s finances.”

She sat back in her chair as if trying to distance herself from something distasteful. “You were the one with straight As in math and science. I don’t have a clue.”

“This isn’t about math or science, Addie. And I don’t have a clue, either. I was hoping that maybe the two of us could figure this out together.”

“But you actually like that stuff. I don’t. It’s one of the reasons I asked you to come home.”

I tried to force a smile, but I was certain it looked more like a grimace.

“This isn’t about being good at math, Addie.

It’s about responsibility. It’s about putting systems in place so that bills are paid and Mother takes her new medications.

I need her insurance card, too, if you can get that for me, so I can fill her prescriptions from Dr. Fitch.

I searched in her wallet, but it wasn’t there. ”

Her face hardened. “If you’re trying to make me feel bad, it’s working. Mother never asked for my help with any of that, so of course I have no clue where she keeps it.”

My fingernails dug into the palms of my hands. I somehow managed to keep my voice level. “But what about recently when you noticed she wasn’t acting like herself? Didn’t it occur to you then to start asking questions?”

“I’ve been busy. I’ve got a life. Besides, you know how Mother gets when someone tries to interfere with her way of doing things.”

“Yeah. I know.” I studied my sister with her defensive posture and complete lack of understanding.

I wanted to hate her, to blame her for being oblivious about pretty much everything.

But I couldn’t. Our mother had made Addie believe that she was the child who could do no wrong simply because she looked like an angel and had the charm needed to get away with questionable behavior.

Even her atrocious grades in everything except music and drama got overlooked and excused.

She tucked her hair behind an ear, and I saw crusted blood surrounding the empty hole where she usually wore an earring. “You’re bleeding,” I said.

She reached up to feel her lobe and winced. “Yeah, I accidentally pulled out my earring while I was brushing my hair.” She shook her head, covering her ear with her hair again.

I took a deep breath. “Let’s work together to figure this all out, all right?

I’m going back to Oregon at the end of the summer, so it’s important that everything is in place for you before I leave.

I’ll set up online accounts to help manage bills, and I can do that from Oregon. But I need you to do something first.”

Her mouth tightened. “What?”

“Remember Dale Prioleau at Daddy’s law firm?

He had such a crush on you.” Dale had joined the firm as a young associate when we were in high school, and even then I remembered the way he hung on to every word Addie said.

“Actually, didn’t you two go out a few times when you were working for the TV station? ”

A pink flush blossomed on her cheeks. “Yeah. I remember. He’s a nice guy. Just too nice for me.” She pulled nervously on the sleeves of her sweater, then crossed her arms.

“Is too nice not a good thing?”

Instead of answering, she said, “Why are you mentioning Dale?”

“Because I need you to set up an appointment with him to see if the firm has records of a power of attorney for Mother for both financial and health matters. Daddy was a good lawyer, and that’s one thing he wouldn’t have left to chance.

We also need to know where the monthly deposits into her account are coming from.

I’m assuming it’s a trust Daddy set up, but I need to know for sure so I can budget her expenses.

I’m sure it will be easy to get Dale to help you. ”

She rounded her shoulders again as if trying to disappear into her sweater. I noticed sweat beads forming at her hairline.

“Why don’t you take off your sweater, Addie. It’s a hundred degrees out here and even hotter inside.” I reached for a sleeve to help her, but she yanked her arm away.

“Stop. I want it on.”

I sat back. “Fine. So will you call Dale, please?”

“I guess I can do it Monday since that’s my day off.”

“Great. And once it’s light out, I’ll find a place to plug in Mother’s computer and set up online checking and autopay for her monthly bills.”

“See?” Addie said. “You’re the smart one. That’s why you can figure this stuff out.”

I turned to her. “You’re just as smart, you know. You could have figured it out on your own.”

“Hardly.”

A mockingbird alighted on the sagging branch of the old oak and began singing its morning song, its bright and chipper voice at odds with my current mood.

Keeping her gaze on the bird, she asked, “What did Dr. Fitch say yesterday after I left?”

“Not a lot. He gave her several cognitive tests for which Mother was surprisingly cooperative—probably because the doctor was young and male. He’ll write up his notes and post them on her patient portal so that we can read it, but he said that it does appear that Mother has significant short-term memory loss along with dementia-related mood swings.

He gave me a couple of prescriptions to help with both of those issues.

” I pressed my hands against my head at one more hurdle I’d have to jump.

“If you have any idea where her health care ID cards might be, please let me know. I really need to get those meds.”

I’d expected another shoulder shrug and was surprised when Addie answered. “Mother sent me to the CVS on Ben Sawyer Boulevard to pick up prescriptions for her. All they needed was her date of birth and address.”

“That’s very helpful. Thank you.”

She seemed uncomfortable with my thanks and focused on rocking the chair back and forth. “Will the meds make her better?”

She sounded so much like a little child that I considered lying to her.

But she was my adult sister, and we were both too old to pretend.

I recalled a sailing trick our father had taught us, to keep our gaze focused on the horizon if we felt seasick to fool our brains into thinking we weren’t moving.

But we were no longer children, and there was no turning the boat back toward the sanctuary of home.

“No. They won’t. The medications available right now can only alleviate symptoms. There’s no cure.”

“But how do we know that she’s been diagnosed correctly? That’s only one doctor’s opinion, right? We need to take her to another doctor who knows how to make her better.”

I reached for her hand and squeezed it. It was the first time I’d touched her without any feelings of animosity since my return, and it felt like finding a favorite yet forgotten sweater hidden in the back of the closet.

I was reminded of when I’d crawl into Addie’s bed during thunderstorms, while we each pretended to be the strong one. “I’m scared, too.”

She stilled her chair, and then, without saying anything, she pulled her hand away and stood. “I told you Liam Fitch was the wrong doctor for Mother. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, or he’s deliberately making it sound worse than it is.”

“Do what you want, Addie. But it’s not going to change anything. Liam gave me a few information booklets to read as well as recommendations for further reading so we can educate ourselves on the progression—”

“See? He’s already talking about progression as if there’s no chance of getting better. He’s given up.”

I was torn between sympathy and anger, but in the end my exhaustion won out, and I could only sit there, staring back at her.

She yanked open the door to go inside.

“Are you still planning to call Dale?”

In response, she slammed the door shut, leaving me alone again on the porch with the cheerful mockingbird, contently oblivious to the turmoil brewing under our roof.