Page 5 of Roman

“Please, honey, you couldn’t look terrible if you tried.” She gave him a brief hug. “You’ve got half the old biddies in this place asking after you every time you leave. You don’t want to hear the things they’d try with you if they were only half a century younger,” she teased. “It’s just that full set of luggage you’re carrying under those doe eyes that gave you away.”

“Dang it! Knew you’d call me out on those,” he laughed, not offended in the slightest.

“Some good sleep and good food would take care of them.” Her expression turned serious, and he sensed a lecture coming. “I’m starting to think you need a keeper. I’d feel better if you had someone looking after you. Isn’t your brother back in town? Why doesn’t he—”

Danny broke in before she could get any further. “He’s doing his best, I promise. Residency took a lot out of Gabe. He’s just getting his feet back under him. I’m sure you’ll start seeing more of him soon.” He cleared his throat. “And I don’t need anyone looking after me.”

He didn’t sound convincing even to himself, but Mary was kind enough to drop it. She gave a small sigh and then was back to her cheerful self, smiling warmly at him. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s take you to see her.”

He knew the way by heart, but Mary always liked to walk him back like an honored guest. As they approached the familiar door, wide open to the room inside, she gave his arm a squeeze. “Just a warning, she’s been calm so far, but it’s not her best day overall.”

That was all right. They hadn’t had a “best day” in he couldn’t remember how long.

The woman seated in the armchair in the corner of the room didn’t seem to notice his arrival, her eyes on a television playing an old black-and-white western.

“Good morning, Gladys,” he called out softly, entering the room. He’d learned long ago that calling her by name could prevent a good day from going bad right off the bat. Otherwise, he would end up sowing confusion and then the inevitable anxiety.

There would be no more “Good morning, Mom.” Not for Danny.

His mother turned her head from the TV then, a hesitant smile on her face. She shared his coloring (or used to, before her hair had grayed) and his nose, but the similarities ended there—her chin was sharper, her lips thinner, and her brown eyes smaller, tilted up at the corners, whereas Danny’s were round and wide. But still, you could see the relation at a glance—certain expressions and mannerisms they both shared.

She had raised him to be who he was, and that left a certain mark.

“Good morning.” She greeted him politely, without a hint of recognition. “Can I help you?”

“I just came for a little visit.” He kept his voice light and cheerful, suppressing any hint of disappointment. “If you’re not too busy?”

Her expression remained hesitant, but at least she didn’t look annoyed or fearful. It could be worse. “Oh no, not too busy. Watching my show though.” She pointed at the TV with a trembling finger.

“That’s okay. I can just watch with you, if you don’t mind.” He sat himself down in the chair across from her.

The room was sizable, with a large bed in the corner, an attached bathroom, and then the makeshift living room they were currently making use of, with two armchairs and a television. A decent place to live overall—he’d made sure of it, trusting himself to make it work financially somehow.

He was managing but just barely.

They sat in silence for a long while. Occasionally during commercials, she asked after him in a vague sort of way, the kind of questions you might ask a stranger, or they discussed the weather, what they were watching.

Some days were like this—she would be content with keeping things light, aware maybe that she knew him in some way but not digging to find out how. Other days she thought he was his father and greeted him by that name.

He’d learned to go along with it, to be content with the knowledge that she knew she loved him, even if she couldn’t remember exactly who it was she loved.

More important was thatsheknew she was loved, that there were people out there who cared for her.

Danny could tell when the conversation started to take a toll on her, as it was beginning to now. Her questions began to repeat themselves, her responses to his questions grew more sporadic, and her reactions became slightly more awkward.

Mary was right: it wasn’t his mom’s best day. But also not the worst. The worst could involve fierce mood swings, emotional breakdowns, screaming matches, an unwillingness to get out of bed or brush her teeth.

There’d been less of that since she’d moved into the care home. The scheduled routines, something he hadn’t been able to give her at home while working full-time, help calmed down some of the chaos in her mind.

“Okay, Gladys, I think I’m going to head out,” he made himself say, pushing up out of his chair. “But it was so nice talking to you. I hope to see you again soon.”

She gave a little nod at him but didn’t make eye contact. She was reaching her limit with social interaction, clearly. “Nice talking to you too,” she mumbled.

He made his way out of the facility, waving at Mary as he passed by. She simply waved back, not pulling him into any conversation, aware he wasn’t always up for talking after a visit with his mom.

It felt like every step he took was heavier than the last. He was just sotired.

He knew he should be grateful for days like this. Days she wanted to talk with him, even for just a little bit, even not knowing who he was. Days where her mood was good, where she was dressed and out of bed.

---