Page 87 of Redeeming Melodies

Elliot's thumb traced circles on my palm as we walked the familiar path to room 214. Each step felt heavier, weighted with what-ifs and maybes.

"Jake?" Mom's voice drifted out before we reached her door. "Is that you, sweetheart? Your father's running late again."

Fuck.

"Hey, Mom." Kept my voice steady as we entered. Her room looked the same - pale yellow walls, family photos she sometimes recognized, sometimes didn't. "Brought someone to meet you."

She blinked at us, confusion clouding those eyes that used to see everything. "Did your father send you? He's supposed to be home for dinner."

"No, Mom. Remember? It's just us now." The words tasted like ash. "But I brought someone special. This is Elliot."

Her gaze shifted, focusing on Elliot with surprising clarity. "Oh. Oh, you're the one."

"The one?" Elliot's voice held gentle curiosity.

"The one my Jake's been waiting for." She smiled, sudden and bright. "I always told him, didn't I Jake? Told him love would find him when he stopped looking so hard."

My chest went tight. Because this was Mom - real Mom, not the confused shadow dementia usually left behind.

"It's lovely to meet you, Mrs. Thompson." Elliot moved closer, still holding my hand. "Jake's told me so much about you."

"Has he?" She patted the bed beside her. "Come, sit. Tell me how my boy's really doing. He always tries to be so strong for me."

The next hour passed in a blur of clarity and confusion. Mom drifted in and out, sometimes knowing exactly who we were, sometimes asking for Dad. But through it all, Elliot stayed steady. He held conversations through her loops, answered the same questions with endless patience, made her laugh with stories about Tommy and the house.

"He needs someone to take care of him too," Mom said during one clear moment, speaking to Elliot like I wasn't there. "My Jake, he carries so much. Always has."

"I know." Elliot's voice went soft. "But he's teaching me it's okay to need people. To let them in."

"Good." She reached for both our hands, linking us together. "That's good. Love's not meant to be a solo act, you know."

Then her eyes clouded again. "Jake? Is your father home yet?"

"Not yet, Mom." The words came automatically now, practiced through years of this dance. "But Elliot and I are here."

"Elliot?" For a moment panic flashed across her face, then settled. "Oh yes. The one who makes my boy smile. You'll stay for dinner?"

"I'd love to." He played along seamlessly. "If Jake will cook for us."

"He makes a proper English breakfast." Pride colored her voice. "Taught him myself, though sometimes he rushes the mushrooms."

My laugh came wet with tears I refused to let fall. "Still teaching me, Mom."

"Always." Her smile turned distant. "Jake? Your father"

"Is running late." Elliot cut in smooth as breathing. "But that's okay. We're here."

She nodded, already drifting. "Yes. You're here. Both of you. That's good."

When her eyes started drooping, we knew it was time. Each goodbye felt like practice for the final one, but having Elliot there made it bearable somehow.

"Love you, Mom." Pressed a kiss to her forehead, breathed in that familiar powder scent she still wore.

"Love you too, sweetheart." Her voice came clear one last time. "And Elliot? Take care of my boy."

"Promise." His voice held more than just words.

The walk back to the car passed in silence, his hand steady in mine. It wasn't until we were safely inside that I let the tears come.

---