Page 14 of Repluse

I purse my lips together as my face is scanned.

The door from the lobby to the main entry finally opens to allow me in.

I make a point of saying a good morning to all the staff I come across and leave a big tin of Cadbury’s Roses at the front reception desk, just to make sure they all remember I was here when Logan checks up on me.

Even though I know the way, I’m escorted down to the day room where Mum is apparently doing her morning exercises.

The group is in a circle while seated in their wheelchairs, with a member of staff behind each of them. Currently, everyone’s arms are raised in the air. I spot my mum straight away, and as always, it feels like I’ve received a punch to the gut.

I’ve heard all the stories about what a great beauty she was but have no recollection of witnessing it in person. I’ve seenphotos, of course, but I’m told they don’t do her justice. Despite the toll the years and her lifestyle have taken on her, it’s still very apparent how stunning Sofia Grace née Kovalenko must’ve once been.

Her blonde hair was silver when she was first admitted to hospital, but since she got a place here at Saint McCarten’s, I’ve paid for a hairdresser to come visit her once a week. I’ve tried to think of all the ways I’d like someone to look after me if I am ever in her situation. We had her hair dyed and highlighted back to a natural-looking honey blonde, her roots are touched up every month, and that’s when she also gets her brows and chin waxed, as well as receiving a mani-pedi.

All of this might appear superficial and unnecessary for someone who doesn’t even know their own name, but after witnessing the absolute joy and wonder on my mum’s face after we got her hair coloured that first time, I feel like I’m redeeming the fact I’m an awful person in some small way.

After a few arm raises and leg lifts to the sound of “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head”, a member of the care team wheels Mum back to her room, and I follow.

She’s so tiny now, it only takes a moment for the two young staff members to move her into her comfy chair. Once her tray table has been manoeuvred in front of her, we’re left alone.

I lean in and wipe the drool from the side of her mouth, and as I always do during these visits, I look into my mum’s eyes and stare. I don’t know what it is exactly I’m looking for. Some sign of recognition maybe? I have so many questions I want to ask her, but now that I finally have her back in my life, she’s unable to answer.

I set all of her goodies out on the chest of drawers below the television, right next to the photos I put in frames of my dad and us four kids when we were younger, of Sas in her wedding dress, and of Saskia’s two kids, Tilly and Alfie.

While I’m doing all of this, I talk to Mum about life in Yira, fill her in on the local gossip, and tell her how well Alfie’s doing at footy and Tilly’s doing at dance.

Her head lifts at the mention of the kids, and she looks towards the door. Her lips move, and from the sound that comes out, I think she’s trying to say Tilly.

I want to cry. This is just awful. It’s not living. It’s not even existing. I don’t care what she did in the past, or about how shitty my life ended up because of her selfish choices. I would never, not ever wish this on her.

“Not today, Mum. Remember? I just told you; Tills has a dance competition this morning, and Alfie has footy this arvo. Maybe in a couple of weeks they’ll come.”

Her eyes shine with unshed tears, looking more blue than grey as they search my face.

“Mila,” she says as clear as day.

A sob escapes me instantly. I freeze while fighting the urge to go to her, climb into her lap, and receive one of the cuddles I dreamed of getting from her so many times as a kid.

“Yes, Mum, it’s me, Mila,” I croak out.

“Beautiful,” she whispers. I watch on in fascination as she raises her arm and points my way. “You, me… beautiful. The same.”

A sound escapes me. It’s not a sob this time. I don’t know what it is. Pain? Longing? But as my mum lowers her arm, I once again watch her eyes become vacant as she disappears.

“I love you, Mum,” I tell her, but this time I get nothing in return.

I gaveSam an approximate time to meet me at the Maccas near our apartment later that afternoon, and as I approach the carpark, I see him leaning against the driver’s door of his light green Land Rover Defender.

I walked back from my mum’s facility, then dropped my phone at my car, then walked here. I’m later than we’d planned, but I needed the time to try to clear my head and compose myself.

I don’t know what he reads on my face as I approach, but the instant his eyes meet mine, he moves towards me. I shake my head and hold my hands up for him to stop.

“Don’t. Please, don’t. Just get me home.”

“Home?” he questions as his eyes dance across my face.

“Back to the apartment. To Frankie’s, with you. I just need… I don’t know. I just need. . .”

Everything hits me at once and it’s too much. Too much emotion. Just too much. I’m overwhelmed and can barely breathe as my head spins and my legs start to give out.

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