The rosy-tipped fingers of dawn stretched across the living room, and I could smell bacon.
That was enough to get me out of sleep. I opened my eyes and looked around the room, at the books and papers piled into nearly every corner. If Brian cleaned things, he did a pretty crappy job doing it. The room, like the rest of the house, was cozy and lived in – and she never met a book she didn’t like. However, even with all her talking, I was curious about the cancer, about why she took in strays like me.
I finally got up, my bladder screaming at me to do something about it, so I took care of that. I went into the kitchen and saw two places set.
She was dressed in the typical matronly outfit that my mother called “mu-mu dresses”; a sleeveless thing with huge bright-colored flowers all over it. Her other dress was at least black. “How do you like your eggs?”
“I think I need a shower first,” I said.
She stopped cooking and stared at me for what seemed like a long time. Was a shower a foreign concept to her? Then she looked down at her dress, as if something occurred to her. “If – if you don’t mind, I’d like to go first.”
“It’s your house, Dottie,” I said, calling her by her first name for the first time. “I can call you Dottie, right?”
She had put the frying pan down. “Of course, of course, do excuse me.”
“Yep,” I said, and watched her leave the kitchen and go to the bathroom. She didn’t bring a change of clothes with her. If she was going to come out wrapped in only a towel, I didn’t want to be in the same room.
I heard the shower go on, and found my way into the living room – not without scoffing a couple of pieces of bacon on the way. I started straightening up – not moving anything, just making the piles look less like leaning towers. I heard someone yell, “Mike?”
I knew it. I put my head down and avoided looking up, heading back into the kitchen. “Mike? I’m sorry, be a dear – you can look up at me, I’m still in the bathroom.” Her voice held a chuckle, and I did look up at her. Only her head stuck out of the bathroom. “Dear, I forgot to get some clothes. Can you just get my robe? It’s in my bedroom hanging on the door.”
“Your room is upstairs?”
“Last room on the right.”
I went up the stairs and into the last door on the right which was also the first door. It was a closet. All right, my –other – right, so I turned around at the top of the stairs. The stairs split the second floor into two parallel short hallways, guarded by a railing that came up to my mid-shin. I wondered if the railings were as old as the house.
I followed her directions and found her room – definitely her room. Again, the ever-present books. It was warm in this room, no air conditioning but the window was wide open to a yard in the back – and the porch. Something tugged at me to check the locks on the screen – it was an old-fashioned window, with wood framing and weights and pulleys.
Shaking my head in real disbelief – I thought they forced everyone to get replacement windows – I found her robe. It was a huge man’s robe, threadbare, but soft. I brought it downstairs and handed it to her with a smile.
I had a nice hot shower for about two minutes, and then the hot water disappeared in a flash. Good thing I only had to rinse my head and then I jumped out, shivering. It looked like it was going to be a warm day, but that didn’t make me feel any better.
At breakfast, the backdoor opened and Quintin came in. Dottie was happy to see him, and he kissed her good morning. “Any for me, honey?”
“Of course!” she cried, and made him a huge omelet.
I picked up my dirty dish, and Dottie’s, and went to wash them. She protested. Quintin said, “Let him. His mother raised him right.”
I gave them both a small, hurt smile. They didn’t know my mom had died just about a year before. How could they know?
But Dottie noticed, and put her arm on my forearm. “Don’t worry, dear,” she said.
“Thanks,” was all I could say, and turned from them both before I burst into tears.
“I was going to take Mike to help me look for driftwood over by the bay. I know you can’t navigate the rocks, dear, and I saw some nice pieces the last time that needed two people to bring back.”
“That’s all right, I have a scrapbooking class today with Maddie and I need to see Dr. Kris.”
“Do you need me to drive you there?”
“No, Maddie can bring me. I’ll buy her lunch.”
He smiled at her. “I’m glad you remembered you have these appointments.”
“They’re on my calendar for today. It’s July 8th, isn’t it?”
His face fell. “No, it’s June 13th.”
“I could have sworn we celebrated the Fourth.”
“You must have dreamed it, honey.”
She smiled, though I could tell it was forced. It worried her that she didn’t know the date. It worried me, too.
We found out that she did have something planned for the day, and Quintin made sure she called for a ride to bring her there. He packed me in the car and we drove off.
“What’s wrong with her?” I asked when we were far enough away from the house.
“She was in very bad car accident a few years ago. It’s addled her. She’s forgetful over the simple things. Brian, if nothing else, made sure that she shut off the stove and put out candles – she’d forget things like that.”
“Is it dementia?”
“Of a sort. The doctors aren’t sure. She’s been getting worse over the years. Her memory is so bad that some of the things she thinks are her memories aren’t her own.”
“Did she really have cancer?”
“No. I have no idea who did.”
We rode in silence, and I noticed we were heading inland, and heading north according to the route signs. “Where are we going?”
“An old buddy’s house. I don’t trust you enough to bring you into my life, so he’s going to check you out first.”
“Magically? Is he going to test me?”
“Oh, he’s going to test you, all right.”