Oh, they’re talking about me.
“I’m not dismissing what she wants. I’m doing the best I can to do what’s right for both of us. If she got everything she unilaterally wanted, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
“What the hell does that mean?” asked the mother.
“Nothing.”
“It’s like you don’t get that she’s not gone yet, like you think her time left isn’t meaningful anymore. You’re acting like a selfish child,” said the mother.
The mother was crying now, but she seemed angry. She looked and sounded like Alice’s sister, Anne. But she couldn’t be Anne. That was impossible. Anne didn’t have any children.
“How do you know she thinks this is meaningful? Look, it’s not just me. The old her, before this, she wouldn’t want me to give this up. She didn’t want to be here like this,” said John.
“What does that mean?” asked the crying woman who looked and sounded like Anne.
“Nothing. Look, I understand and appreciate everything you’re saying. But I’m trying to make a decision that’s rational and not emotional.”
“Why? What’s wrong with being emotional about this? Why is that a negative thing? Why isn’t the emotional decision the right decision?” asked the woman who wasn’t crying.
“I haven’t come to a final decision yet, and the two of you aren’t going to bully me into one. You don’t know everything.”
“So tell us, Dad, tell us what we don’t know,” said the crying woman, her voice shaking and threatening.
The threat silenced him for a moment.
“I don’t have time for this now, I have a meeting.”
He got up and abandoned the argument, leaving the women and babies alone. He slammed the front door as he left the house, startling the baby in blue, which had just fallen asleep in the mother’s arms. It wailed. As if it were contagious, the other woman began crying, too. Maybe she just felt left out. Now, everyone was crying—the pink baby, the blue baby, the mother, and the woman next to the mother. Everyone except Alice. She wasn’t sad or angry or defeated or scared. She was hungry.
“What are we having for dinner?”
MAY 2005
They reached the counter after waiting a long time in a long line.
“All right, Alice, what do you want?” asked John.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“I’m getting vanilla.”
“That’s fine, I’ll have that.”
“You don’t want vanilla, you want something chocolate.”
“Okay then, I’ll have something chocolate.”
It seemed simple and unproblematic enough to her, but he became visibly stressed by the exchange.
“I’ll have a vanilla in a cone, and she’ll have a chocolate fudge brownie in a cone, both large.”
Away from the stores and crowded lines of people, they sat on a graffiti-covered bench on the edge of a river and ate their ice creams. Several geese nibbled in the grass just a few feet away. The geese kept their heads down, consumed in the business of nibbling, completely unbothered by Alice and John’s presence. Alice giggled, wondering if the geese thought the same thing about them.
“Alice, do you know what month it is?”
It had rained earlier, but the sky was clear now, and the heat from the sun and the dry bench warmed her bones. It felt so good to be warm. Many of the pink and white blossoms from the crab apple tree next to them were scattered across the ground like party confetti.
“It’s spring.”
“What month of spring?”
Alice licked her something chocolate ice cream and carefully considered his question. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at a calendar. It had been a long time it seemed since she needed to be at a certain place at a certain time. Or if she did need to be somewhere on a certain day at a certain time, John knew about it for her and made sure she got there when she was supposed to. She didn’t use an appointment machine, and she no longer wore a wrist clock.
Well, let’s see. The months of the year.
“I don’t know, what is it?”
“May.”
“Oh.”
“Do you know when Anna’s birthday is?”
“Is it in May?”
“No.”
“Well, I think Anne’s birthday is in the spring.”
“No, not Anne, Anna.”
A yellow truck groaned loudly over the bridge near them and startled Alice. One of the geese spread its wings and honked at the truck, defending them. Alice wondered whether it was brave or a hothead, looking for a fight. She giggled, thinking about the feisty goose.
She licked her something chocolate ice cream and studied the architecture of the red-brick building across the river. It had many windows and a clock with old-fashioned numbers on a gold dome on its top. It looked important and familiar.
“What’s that building over there?” asked Alice.
“That’s the business school. It’s part of Harvard.”
“Oh. Did I teach in that building?”
“No, you taught in a different building on this side of the river.”
“Oh.”
“Alice, where’s your office?”
“My office? It’s at Harvard.”
“Yes, but where at Harvard?”
“In a building on this side of the river.”
“Which building?”
“It’s in a hall, I think. You know, I don’t go there anymore.”
“I know.”
“Then it really doesn’t matter where it is, right? Why don’t we focus on the things that really matter?”
“I’m trying.”
He held her hand. His was warmer than hers. Her hand felt so good in his hand. Two of the geese waddled into the calm water. There were no people swimming in the river. It was probably too cold for people.
“Alice, do you still want to be here?”
His eyebrows bent into a serious shape, and the creases next to his eyes deepened. This question was important to him. She smiled, pleased with herself for finally having a confident answer for him.
“Yes. I like sitting here with you. And I’m not done yet.”
She held up her something chocolate ice cream to show him. It had started to melt and drip down the sides of the cone onto her hand.
“Why, do we need to leave now?” she asked.
“No. Take your time.”
JUNE 2005
Alice sat at her computer waiting for the screen to come to life. Cathy had just called, checking in, concerned. She said that Alice hadn’t returned her emails in a while, that she hadn’t been to the dementia chat room in weeks, and that she’d missed support group again yesterday. It wasn’t until Cathy talked about support group that Alice knew who the concerned Cathy on the phone was. Cathy said that two new people had joined their support group, and that it had been recommended to them by people who’d attended the Dementia Care Conference and had heard Alice’s speech. Alice told her that was wonderful news. She apologized to Cathy for worrying her and told her to let everyone know that she was okay.