Page 78 of Forbidden Lessons

She grabs my hand again. How weak she’s become, her fingers barely dimpling my flesh.

“You’re ice cold,” she says, mouth pulling like I’ve offended her deeply. “Have you been sitting in the rain again? You’ll catch your death one of these days.”

My pulse thrums, a sudden intense heat building in my chest. But I take a slow breath, and then another. Another.

That moment of lucidity disappears as swiftly as it arrives. But its effect lingers on as a prickle in my fingertips.

“How long do I have to stay here? That maid is using my perfume, you know. And she doesn’t clean the toilet properly. I’m going to have her fired.”

Despite what I’ve researched on the condition, despite what the doctors and staff tell me, I’m still convinced that I can make her understand what’s happening. There must be a way to avoid her reaching back in the past to torment me.

Or perhaps I’m just testingherlimits.

“You’re in a nursing home, Evelyn. You have dementia, and you can’t look after yourself?—”

“Liar!” Her slap doesn’t carry half the strength it used to, either. But the sting tugs on deeply buried memories like a dead man’s bell.

You’re crying again, Bash? You’re pathetic. You know crying won’t get you anywhere. Sybil used to cry. She cried all the time. Look where that got her. You want to end up like her? Is that it, boy? Do you want to take a razorblade into the bath with you? I’ve got plenty. Here, let me go fetch you one.

I grab her wrist. Shove her arm against her chest and keep it there. I can feel the bones in her wrist grating together, and it just makes me squeeze harder.

Pain flashes in her eyes. Confusion. Then anger.

“You told me you were taking me to California as soon as you were done with your business trip, Jonathan. Two weeks! That’s how long you said I had to wait. But it’s been months.Months.” Her feral hiss dots spittle on her lips.

Distress.

Severe disorientation.

Mental breakdown.

I’m just supposed to accept the fact that she thinks I’m my father, in case her condition gets worse. To validate her experience and gently bring her back to the present.

As if she ever treatedmegently.

My lip curls into a sneer before I catch myself.

“You’re a smart woman, Evelyn,” I say, ducking closer to her so my voice won’t carry.

Not that the woman lying in the bed nearby is doing any better than Evelyn. She’s on a ventilator, mouth gaping, fast asleep. But the nurses walk past the door now and then, and one of them could decide to check in on the once great Dr. Evelyn Rooke.

She tugs at her arm, but I refuse to let her go.

“You knew the moment I left that I’d never come back. All I wanted was a quick fuck.”

I wipe at a strand of hair that’s escaped Evelyn’s bun.

“I never wanted a child. Especially not with you.”

A coldness ekes into my heart and spreads through my veins. With it comes the numbing. Loss of touch, smell, taste. And anger, fear, confusion, pain.

If I was to close my eyes and cover my ears, I’d be transported into the imaginary sensory deprivation tank where I spent most of my godforsaken childhood.

Evelyn’s eyes widen as I lean in even closer.

Does she still see Jonathan? Or does she recognize me for who I truly am?

“Not after you told me how you planned on raising him.”

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