Page 42 of Winning the Nightcap

“I wish I could freeze this moment in time and come back to it whenever I want,” Evie says wistfully.

“You two get together for a picture,” I say. “That’s one way to do it.”

Evie kneels in front of Mom, taking hold of her hands. “What do you say, Mom. Want to take a picture with me?”

“Of course, you look absolutely stunning. We should capture the moment. I wouldn’t want to forget it.” She smiles adoringly at Evie. When Evie turns to face me, looping her arm around Mom’s shoulders, her eyes shine with unshed tears and her soft smile falters for a brief second. I snap a quick picture right before the first tear falls, and Evie acts quickly to wipe it away.

“Well, I think it’s time, don’t you? I have it right here,” Evie says while pulling out a small box with a red bow on top.

Mom started a tradition when we were younger, and we’ve kept it up every year since. We each take a turn picking a new ornament to add to the tree. Last year, Mom picked an emerald glass ornament with lily of the valley flowers delicately etched onto the sides in silver. It was her year to pick, though we weren’t sure if she’d be up for it when we got to the store. When we walked inside, she barely hesitated before shewalked straight to the display and pointed, stating she had found the perfect one. “A return to happiness,” she whispered softly to herself as Evie gently pulled the ornament from the wall. She wouldn’t say much else about it, but it was clearly the perfect pick. I can see the ornament hanging off the artificial tree in the corner of my mom’s room.

“Here, Mom, why don’t you open it?” Evie places the package on Mom’s lap.

Mom gives an enthusiastic “Ooooh” as she lifts the small ornament from the box. “Evelyn, this is stunning.” She holds the ornament up in wonder.

“Nice pick, sis.” The flat, circular wooden ornament has cutouts in the shape of the city’s skyline. As Evie hangs it on a branch, the soft light from the bulbs highlights the intricate outline of each building.

“Thanks. I wanted something to signify the importance of us all being in the same city, together again. I don’t care where we live, as long as we’re close. It’s too painful any other way.” Her last words fade quietly. I know the past few months haven’t been easy for any of us. She’s right. This isn’t perfect, either, but it’s the right place for us to be. I’m home when I’m with my family, no matter where we may be physically.

“We should probably wrap up the celebrations for tonight. Let you get some rest,” I say reluctantly. We had a great day today, but there’s always the risk of tomorrow being a bad day. The uncertainty always lingers like an unwelcome guest.

“Yes, I’m tired. It’s a good time to call it a day. Oh, and Evie dear, please don’t forget to set the timer on the stove on your way out. I don’t want to burn dessert again,” Mom says.

Evie turns back to Mom, caught off guard. She gives her an appraising once-over, finding nothing amiss. Not physically. “Sure thing, Mom. I’ll make sure the timer is set.”

My mom doesn’t have a stove in her room.

We didn’t make dessert.

We clean up, help Mom get comfortable, and notify the staff that we’re headed out for the night, thanking them as usual for their care. The staff here have been great, and knowing they’re always taking good care of Mom is peace of mind I’d pay any amount to find. When I first saw the cost of residential care that’s specifically for adults with cognitive needs, I was reminded to be grateful for my generous salary.

“Well, other than a few hiccups here and there, she had a really good day overall, don’t you think?” Evie asks me as we exit the facility and I walk her to her car.

“Yeah, it seems like she’s had more good days than bad lately. I was expecting more hiccups while she settles in from the move.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

Evie stops next to her car and reaches into her purse, digging around to find her keys. “When it comes to Mom and me, you’re always prepared for the worst. I know you’ve gotten better at hiding it, but that protective instinct and hypervigilance never fully went away, did it? It makes sense that you’re falling back into old habits while we work through this.”

“I’ll work on it. I know you get annoyed when I do that.”

“It’s okay to worry, Aiden. I don’t think we can help it in this situation. I just don’t want it to overwhelm you. You need to take care of yourself too. When you need to lean on me for support, you know you can always call me and talk it through. Like we always have. You, Mom, and me. We don’t shut down. We reach out.”

I give Evie a quick hug and when I step away, I thank her. “You’re right. I know I can count on you. I’m doing okay, but you’ll hear from me when I need backup. Promise. I’ve also been meaning to thank you for your advice.”

“All of my advice is golden. What was it about this time?”

“I, uh…I have a date with Bec, Hop’s trainer. Well, sort of.”

She gives me a look. “Sort of?”

“I talked to her. I was honest with her like you suggested. She doesn’t want to jump into anything serious. One date at a time sort of deal. So, I’m going to ask her out after the New Year.”

“Well, shit. Look at you, big brother! See what happens when you listen to me? Does this mean you’ll take my advice on where to take her for your first date? It’s clear you really like this girl, and I don’t want to hear you complaining if you fuck this up. You need to get this right. I’ve been waiting for a sister my whole life and at this rate I’ll never get one.”

I laugh, because she’s not fucking wrong. I need her help.

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