Page 42 of All Bets are Off

“I’m doing just fine. Why do you ask?” She smiles at me as though she wasn’t angry just seconds ago.

“Well, I was wondering how you’re settling into your new place.”

“It’s all right.” Her cheeriness falters. “It’s not my house.”

“Mom, let’s go down to the restaurant,” Logan says quickly.

The assisted living facility is set up like an apartment building with an attached skywalk that leads to the hospital wing. As we walk, I notice Gloria’s limping a little and share a look with Logan, who’s noticed it, too.

“Did you hurt your leg, Mom?” he asks her.

“No, I did not hurt my leg. Whatever gave you such a crazy idea, Logan?” she asks querulously. Looking up at me, she says, “He’s always saying crazy things.”

Logan doesn’t reply. When we arrive in the restaurant, Gloria insists I sit beside her while Logan sits across the table from us. I send him a baffled look, but his eyes are on the menu. We order, and while we wait for the food, Gloria tells us about some shows she’s been watching on TV. They’re programs she would never normally watch—a race car driving reality show, for instance. Some of them she mentions more than once, and I can see now what Logan’s been telling me about her repeating and forgetting; but, to be honest, that pales in the face of her extreme personality change. I keep trying to meet Logan’s eyes to gauge his thoughts, but he’s avoiding looking at me.

“I don’t like chicken pot pie. Why did you bring me chicken pot pie?” Gloria asks the waitress when she sets our food in front of us

“Mom, it’s what you ordered,” Logan says quietly.

“Shut up! It most definitely is NOT what I ordered!” Gloria says loudly. Several people turn from their meals to look at us.

“I thought you were looking forward to your chicken pot pie,” I say.

Slowly Gloria’s brow clears. “Yes. Yes, I’m looking forward to it very much.” She looks down at her plate. “Oh, this looks absolutely delicious.” Picking up her fork, she digs in.

I have trouble enjoying my food. The whole situation has me reeling, and I can feel the tension rolling off Logan in waves.

Finally, the meal is over. Gloria chats with us easily on the way back to her room, but when we get there, I’m horrified when she suddenly starts crying.

“Mom, what’s the matter?” Logan asks.

Ignoring her son, whom she has always adored, Gloria turns to me. “West, don’t leave. Stay. Spend the night here. I have a guest room. I think.” She frowns and turns to Logan. “Don’t I have a guest room?”

Logan nods, eyes troubled.

I take her hands in mine, patting them. “I’m sorry, but I can’t, Gloria. I have to work. Logan tells me you have a very nice nurse who stays with you.”

“She’ll be here any minute,” Logan says, looking at this watch.

“Goddamn it, I don’t want a nurse!” Gloria shouts, startling both Logan and me.

A brisk knock on the door has Logan rushing to open it.

“Here she is,” he says brightly, ushering in a middle-aged woman wearing a blue cardigan and carrying what looks like a knitting bag. “Look, Mom! Donna’s brought her knitting.”

Gloria looks with interest at Donna pulling out her needles and colorful yarn. “Remember, Gloria, I told you I’d bring it. I’m making my new grandson a blanket,” she says, holding it up to show Logan’s mom.

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” Gloria says. “I made a similar one for Logan when he was born.” Confusion falls over her face as she looks between Logan and me.

“We’ll be going now, Mom. I’ll be back to see you tomorrow,” Logan says, kissing her cheek.

“Don’t bother” Gloria mutters as she follows Donna into the living area.

“Logan, I’m so sorry,” I say when we get into the hall. “I know you said it was bad, but I wasn’t prepared for this.”

Logan’s jaw works as he tries to compose himself. “She’s getting so much worse. She wasn’t this bad last week. Hell, she wasn’t this bad yesterday!” He turns tortured eyes to me.

“When is her appointment with the new doctor?” I ask.

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