Page 62 of Out Of Time

“No, it’s Susan—Mrs. Keller,” she corrected, she never called her by her first name.

“What’s wrong? Do you need me to come there?” he asked.

“Yes… no… I don’t know. Max, she’s like,gone,” Remi whispered, instantly regretting her word choice.

“Oh shit, she’s dead?” Max asked.

“No, she’s like,” Remi said as she stepped into the kitchen, never taking her eyes off Mrs. Keller, “it’s as if she’s lost her mind? I don’t know. She’s not aware of what’s going on. It’s scary. I’m worried about her, and I don’t know what to do, Max.”

“Does she have any emergency contacts?” he asked, and Remi wanted to praise his sound and logical mind in her moment of panic.

“Yes, I have her son’s number, but he’s not the best.”

Mrs. Keller just sat there, watching TV, as if Remi weren’t in her apartment at all.

“Okay, call him first, give him an opportunity to come get her. If he can’t help, you’re going to have to call an ambulance.”

“Okay.”

“Send me the address, so I can come be with you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said.

“And Rem?”

“Yeah?”

“If you're in danger at all, I want you to leave and go wait in your car. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” she said absentmindedly.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

Max hung up first and she sent the address right away.

“Mrs. Keller,” Remi said from the kitchen, receiving no response. “Mrs. Keller I’m going to call your son, okay?”

The older woman looked up at her this time, with complete peace on her oblivious face. “Yes, tell him dinner will be ready at five.”

***

It was the first time Max had really felt the weight of his condition affect him negatively outside of hockey, past a minor inconvenience here or there. Driving slow at night wasn’t bad, until you were trying to get somewhere fast. His head spun with worst-case scenarios. He hated the thought that Remi was alone in a scary situation, and he couldn’t drive past 35 fucking miles-per-hour to get to her. Sweat gathered on his upper lip, and his heart hammered in his chest, anxiety flooding his body from head to toe. He kept driving, slowly, steadily, and blinking repeatedly. It was like a nightmare where the bad guy is chasing you and you can’t run because your legs feel like they weigh a million pounds, only this was real life. This was his reality.

When he finally pulled into the small apartment complex, he spotted Remi’s car immediately, but she wasn’t inside, to his relief. He opened the text she sent with the apartment number and bolted up the stairs to the woman’s apartment. The door was propped open, and the smell of hot trash hit his nose before he knocked on the door frame, not wanting to barge in.

Remi appeared from a room off the narrow hallway, her hair tied up on her head, wearing rubber gloves that came up to her elbows. Max hated the look on her face, it reminded him of the night she found him drunk. It reminded him of the way she looked when she returned from the beach. He hated that he had made her feel like this before.

“Tell me how I can help you?” he asked, taking a step into the trash-covered apartment, no sign of Mrs. Keller to be seen.

Remi stood before him, her hip popped out and her body obviously exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes as she looked around. And then, without a word, she pulled out a trash bag and a spare pair of rubber gloves from her cleaning cart and handed them to him. Max knew what she was asking without saying anything at all. He pulled on the gloves—a tight fit for his massive hands—and then he got to work. Anything that looked like trash, he added to the bag, as Remi wiped down countertops and scrubbed burnt food and a melted bowl from the metal coils of the stove.

Max moved on to sweep, and sweeping led to the mop, and then the vacuum. With each space freed of its litter, he felt hope swell in his chest and the anxiety of his drive melt away. He watched his girlfriend come back to life as the small apartment became livable again, breathable again, and safe.

Very few words were shared, and yet they both completely understood what needed to be done.

Max was never good with words, and Remi had already carried the conversation for them both so many times since he’d met her. But now, in their silence, he was grateful they felt safe enough to not say anything when the words were too heavy for them both to carry.

He loaded her cleaning cart into the back of her Subaru as she locked up Mrs. Keller’s apartment behind her.

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