Page 54 of Family Like This

Katie takes my hand in both of hers. “That means a lot to me.”

Really, do not cry.

I quickly squeeze her hand then suck in a big breath. If I don’t get out of the car now, I’ll break down, and here is not the place for that. Over the last year-and-a-half that my mother’s been living here, I’ve learned to keep it together until I’m at home. I can break later. Me being upset only agitates her.

“Ready?” I ask.

“Of course. Lead the way.”

The walk from the parking lot to the building is always mental preparation. Unless I call ahead, I never know what kind of state she’ll be in. I usually don’t call ahead because I don’t want it to influence my decision to come. Since Miles has been home, I’ve been coming two to three times per week again, and he’s by my side every time. He couldn’t come tonight because he’s with Mackenzie, Rae, and Aaron setting up a surprise at Sarah and Joel’s house for after the wedding tomorrow. They’re staying there for the first time tomorrow night, and their friends wanted to make it extra special.

Miles didn’t want me to skip my visit tonight, and suggested I invite his mom to join me. Though I felt a little strange asking, I always intended to have her meet my mom, so it seemed like the right decision.

As she rubs my shoulder in the elevator, I know it was. She has the same calming presence Miles has, though both his parents seem to have that. They’re kind, thoughtful people, and it makes it easier to let them in. Admittedly, I have a harder time with Andy. He reminds me of my dad in many ways. Tall with brown hair and a goofy side. My dad was introspective and thoughtful. He always had words of wisdom to share, but he also knew exactly when to throw seriousness to the wayside and be goofy. He loved to have fun, and above all, he loved to make me laugh. My mom would roll her eyes as she watched us laughing over nothing at all, but then she’d smile like she was the luckiest person alive.

Katie and I walk off the elevator and I lead the way to the locked unit, key in the code, and open the door.

The smell turns my stomach more than usual. I’ll always hate hospital and nursing home smells, but it’s worse being pregnant. Old overcooked food mixed with cleaning chemicals and shit.

Don’t focus on that.

“Hi, Amelia,” one of the nurses says, getting up from her chair behind the nurses’ station and walking over to me.

“Hi. How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you? Another new face tonight?” she smiles brightly.

“Yes, this is Katie, Miles’s mother.”

“It’s good to meet you,” the nurse says.

“You too,” Katie says.

“How has she been today?”

The nurse tips her head from side to side. “She’s been all over the place. I’m not sure exactly what you’ll be getting. She’s in her room, but we can have someone bring her out.”

“No, that’s fine. We’ll head down. I have a new blanket and puzzle books for her, plus some pictures to add to her wall.”

“Sure thing, hon. Let us know if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

I pick up the bag of stuff I got her and nod down the hall where her room is.

My mom always loved blankets. When I got our stuff out of storage after traveling, I counted forty-seven throw blankets. We ended up donating a bunch of them to a homeless shelter. We both picked a few favorites to keep. Mom has most of them, but I have three, plus one more in a box in my closet. It’s the one my dad used during chemo, and all these years later, it still smells like him. When I need that comfort, I pull the blanket out and hold it for a little while.

I knock on the door, then walk into the semi-private room my mom is in. This is a newer nursing home, and Mom was on the waitlist here for months. I was grateful when she finally got in, though. The rooms are bigger and nicer than many other nursing homes I toured. The semi-private rooms areactuallysemi-private instead of having a curtain dividing them. There’s a shared open space at the entrance to the room with hooks for visitor bags and coats. This is also where the bathroom is. Then it splits off and a curtain closes off each mini room with a wall between them. The other woman in here is as close as my mother has to a friend. I’m not sure they remember each other day-to-day, but they get along fine and enjoy doing things together.

Mom’s curtain is half-drawn, so I knock on the wall, then stick my head in. She’s sitting in a chair by the window.

“Hi, Mom,” I call, walking into her small area, followed by Katie.

I set the bag down and walk over as my mother looks up at me. Her gray-green eyes that match mine fill with horror.

It’s going to be that kind of visit. Okay.

“What are you doing here?” she demands. “I told you never to visit me again. Now you’re here with what—your housekeeper?”

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