Page 86 of Captivating Anika

The pups start whimpering, trying to get at my face.

“You’re not having a nervous breakdown,” Hog says firmly. “You’re processing.”

Then he pulls me up with him.

“Put some comfortable shoes on. We’re going for a walk. Nothing like some fresh air to clear your head.”

Then he calls the dogs to the entryway, puts on their harnesses, and clips on the leashes. He leaves me no choice but to shove my feet into my Skechers and follow him and the dogs outside.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Anika

“Hi, Martha. I’m Nira and this is my daughter, Anika. Can we come in?”

The tiny woman nods, and Mom immediately walks over to the bed, lifting one of the frail hands on the covers in hers. The poor woman looks confused, but it doesn’t take any time for Mom to form a connection with her.

When Hog first suggested I ask Mom to come with me to visit Kim’s mother, I balked. But once again, I have to admit he was right. Mom is good with things like this. She’s not a stranger to people who suffer with diminished capacities. Mom looked after her own mother who had Alzheimer’s, and for a short while she did the same for Vic and Trin’s father who had dementia. She instantly agreed and picked me up from home earlier.

Monique let me know last night everyone had agreed to keep the salon open today. They even volunteered to stay later to make sure all appointments were honored. As weird as it feels not being there and in control, I’m glad to have some time to deal with this.

According to Bill Evans—who went to officially notify Martha of her daughter’s death yesterday after talking to us—staff mentioned the woman’s stroke had left her with cognitive impairment and failing memory. Bill was also able to tell me there was no other family, as I suspected, which is heartbreaking.

“Can we talk about Kim, Martha?” Mom asks gently.

“My daughter,” the woman replies, slurring her words. She turns her red-rimmed eyes to me. “She died.”

“Yes, and we’re so sorry,” I tell her, taking the woman’s other hand. “Your daughter worked with me at the Chop Shop, but she was also a sweet friend.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Anika.”

“Is it time for my snack?”

I glance over at Mom, who throws me a sad smile.

“I can go check for you if you’d like?” I offer, but her hand slips from mine, and her eyes have drifted out the window. I don’t think she hears me.

My heart is breaking for this woman. Losing a child has to be devastating, but losing one when you’re so helpless seems even worse.

Like so many times over the past few days, I get a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.

Mom steps in. “Martha, we’re going to let you rest now, okay? We’ll come back for a visit soon.”

She pats Martha’s hand before reaching for mine and pulling me out of the room. In the hallway we bump into the nurse we saw when we got here.

“How was the visit?” she asks.

“She was lucid for a few minutes, but then got confused,” Mom volunteers.

“I know,” the nurse commiserates. “And she seems to have regressed since receiving the horrible news about her daughter’s death.”

“We were hoping to talk to her about making arrangements for Kim,” I explain.

She shakes her head. “I’m not sure she’ll be in any condition to.”

“Is it okay if we visit again?” Mom asks. “And maybe we can leave you a number to contact if she wants someone to talk to, or she needs something?”

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