Me Without You

  ME WITHOUT YOU

  Mindy Hayes

  Me Without You

  Copyright © 2015

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Mindy Hayes

  Cover design by ©Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations

  Editor: Madison Seidler

  www.madisonseidler.com

  Other Books by Mindy Hayes

  The Faylinn Novels:

  Kaleidoscope

  Ember

  Luminary

  Willowhaven Series:

  Me After You

  Me Without You

  To my best friend, Alix

  ALIX

  THERE’S ONE THING that never changes about Mama. She always smells like lavender. When nothing else is ever the same, that one thing remains. It’s my lifeline.

  “Mama, I need you to lift your arms so I can help you take off your pajamas.”

  She sits on the edge of her bed, refusing to cooperate, her arms folded so tightly I’d have to fight to pull them apart.

  With my feet planted in front of her, I squat down and grip the hem of her shirt. “Ma,” I say gently, like I would to a child. “We need to take Brooks to school in ten minutes, and he hasn’t eaten breakfast yet. I need you to work with me here. Please?”

  “Why won’t you let me do it? I’m not completely demented.” She stares at me like she’s making complete sense. I can’t tell her she’s not. “I can do it myself.”

  She’ll take another hour if I let her do it herself. I have to choose my words carefully. “Because it will go a lot faster if I help. Will you let me help you, please? Pretty please?”

  She sighs, but begins to cooperate.

  “Brooks!” I holler. “Have you eaten breakfast yet?”

  “No,” he calls back from the living room, where I hear cartoons coming from the TV.

  I raise my voice to be heard. “Just grab some cereal. I don’t have time to make you anything.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t cry. It hurts my ears.” Mama winces.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Mama.” I didn’t mean to shout in her ears.

  Her jumbled sentences are harder to decipher than they used to be. They weren’t so bad at first, but there are times now when nothing makes sense. All I can do is try to placate her.

  It’s so hard to see her this way. When I think of how she used to be, and our life before, I curl into a ball of uselessness. So, I’ve become numb. I’ve had to. If I think of all that’s been lost I can’t function the way I need to—the way Brooks needs me to.

  I finish dressing her with a minute to spare before we have to leave. We meet Brooks in the kitchen as he sets his bowl in the sink with a clink. His hair is a mess.

  “Did you even comb your hair this morning?” I ask with a hand on my hip. I hate how much I sound like a mother, how much I must look like a mother. But someone has to act like one. “It looks like you let rats style it.”

  He shrugs. “It looks fine to me. Good morning, Mama.”

  Mama looks at Brooks but doesn’t respond right away. She rarely does. Most of the time I see the wheels turning, but nothing is there to move them forward. She doesn’t recognize him, so she doesn’t know why he’s calling her Mama. Every time I see them interact my heart breaks a little more. I pull up my numbing shield and say, “He’s talking to you, Mama.”

  She finally nods with a polite, close-lipped smile.

  “And it does not look fine,” I say to him. “Go wet it down or brush a comb through it, at least. We don’t have any more time than that if you don’t want to be late. I don’t need everyone at school wondering who takes care of you. You have thirty seconds, and then you need to meet me in the car.”

  “Alix,” he groans.

  “Go,” I command, pointing back to the bathroom.

  He shuffles his feet down the hall, his shoulders hunched in annoyance.

  “Ma, let’s get in the car.”

  She leans her back against the countertop, twirling the ends of her fading chestnut hair, which rests just below her shoulders. Her eyes don’t meet mine; they’re focused over my shoulder. When she doesn’t move, I take her hand and guide her to the garage. “C’mon,” I say softly, encouragingly.

  Once I’ve buckled her into the front seat, Brooks comes flying into the garage, hopping off the steps and slamming the door behind him.

  “So much better! Now your friends might actually talk to you.”

  “My friends think I’m awesome no matter what.” I chuckle and playfully fuss up his freshly combed hair as he climbs into the back seat. “Hey! I just combed it.”

  “Maybe you’ll think twice about that cocky mouth of yours.”

  Smirking, he says, “I only learn from the best,” as he pats his hair back down.

  I bite my lip to keep from laughing. I really need to watch myself.

  ***

  After we drop off Brooks I say, “Okay, Ma.” I take a breath and smile. “We’ve got an appointment with Dr. Fallon this morning. You ready?”

  Without missing a beat, she says, “Phil will meet us there.”

  My heart jumps into my throat. “What?”

  She doesn’t acknowledge me again as she peers out the passenger side window with a distant look in her eyes.

  “Mama, what did you just say?” I press and touch her arm, trying to get her attention.

  She turns to look at me and blinks. “What did you just say?”

  “I asked you a question. Who’s meeting us at the doctor’s?”

  “You tell me. I don’t know.” Her eyes wander around the car and then out through the windshield, like she’s already forgotten she said anything.

  My dad’s name hasn’t been mentioned in years. It’s taboo—a plague that could poison us with four small letters. I thought maybe he was a black hole in her mind as so many other things are. Black holes make up her brain now.

  Are memories of him peeking through those holes?

  She doesn’t say another word. I inhale deeply. “Well, all right. Let’s go.”

  Two years ago we first heard her diagnosis. It doesn’t sound nearly as long as it feels. Some days it feels like she’s always been this way.

  The mint green walls of the doctor’s office cave in as I sit next to Mama. We wait for our lives to change. We’ve only been waiting for the doctor for about five minutes, but it feels like there’s never been a time where we haven’t been waiting. His diploma from Mercer University hangs on the wall behind his desk. The black letters on white go in and out of focus as I stare. I don’t know much about medical schools, but that better be a good one.

  All I want is for him to tell me what’s happening to my mom. We’ve waited weeks for this diagnosis, following test after test after test after test. They’ve already ruled out a brain tumor or a stroke. Why is she forgetting so many things? What can they do for her? Can he please fix her? I can’t raise Brooks on my own. I’m only twenty-three years old. He needs our mother. I need to finish college and—

  There’s a knock at the door before Dr. Fallon enters. “Hello, ladies.”

  “Hi, Dr. Fallon,” Mama says.

  “Ms. Fink, Alix, how are you both today?” he asks as he sits down across from us. It still surprises me how young he looks. He can’t really be that much older than me. Twenty-eight, Twenty-nine max. How much can he really know about the human brai
n? What? Is he just out of medical school?

  I know I should be polite and carry on this mindless conversation, but I’m in no mood for that. The suspense is killing me. “Cut to the chase, Doc,” I say. “We just want to know what’s going on with her.”

  “Alix,” Mama scolds.

  He smiles compassionately, his perfect white teeth gleaming, and nods in understanding. I try to look past how good looking he is and focus on what we came here for.

  “All right,” he says. “I understand your concern, Alix.” He rests his clasped hands on his desk and leans forward with the most sensitive look in his eyes. It’s not good news. I can see that. It’s not good at all. He prattles off everything that it isn’t before he says, “Ms. Fink, all the signs lead me to believe you are suffering from early onset Alzheimer’s disease.”

  The walls attempting to cave in on me crumble to the ground. There’s nothing left to hold me together. “But she’s only forty-five. How is that even possible?” I demand.

  “Alzheimer’s isn’t just a disease for the elderly, Alix. While it’s extremely rare for it to strike so young, it’s not impossible. That’s why it’s called early onset.”

  Mama remains silent beside me.

  Tears lurk behind my eyes, waiting for the opportune moment to assault my face, but I don’t give them my consent. “So, what can be done to help her? How do we make it stop?”

  His eyes grow sympathetic as he shakes his head. “It’s not something that can be fixed, Alix. There are treatments and drugs that could help slow it down, but it can’t be stopped.”

  “But it has to be stopped,” I say desperately.

  His lips press together, almost in pity, as if I’m so naïve. I don’t know the first thing about Alzheimer’s. Why can’t it be stopped?

  Make it stop.

  “How much…how much time do I have, Dr. Fallon?” Mama quietly asks. I look over at her. She keeps a brave face, eyes focused, remaining collected. She must be trying to stay calm for me.

  Alzheimer’s can kill you? She’s too young to die. His moment of hesitation is enough to break me.

  “Doc?” I prompt, my voice cracking.

  “Well,” he sighs, “in this type of condition it could be anywhere from four to twenty years. Unfortunately, with the stage that you seem to be, Ms. Fink, I would have to say it’s closer to about ten years.”

  Every other word that comes out of his mouth after that is lost to me.

  Dr. Fallon’s office is the same as it was two years ago. Same green walls. Same black frame around his Mercer diploma—Jeffrey L. Fallon. In our constantly evolving lives, I kind of like that about these visits. Consistency. It’s the only consistency. Sometimes I feel like we live here. After coming here every few months for the last two years, it practically is home.

  Dr. Fallon interlocks his fingers and rests them on top of his desk, leaning forward, as he always does when he’s about to deliver damaging information. Thankfully, Mama is in the hallway waiting for me. She feeds off my emotions. When she feels how tense I am she doesn’t know what do to with herself. Not that that’s a huge difference from any other day.

  “Alix, I don’t normally offer this kind of advice, but I think it would be beneficial for you to find a care facility for her soon. You have so much on your plate with your brother and trying to make a living for the three of you. She needs more. It’s only going to get more difficult from here.” He pauses, and that’s how I know he’s gearing up for the real kicker. “Even though it’s not progressing as quickly as it once was, it’s not slowing down either. Very soon she’s going to forget how to do even the simplest of tasks, like getting dressed and going to the bathroom.” She already has, I want to say, but I have a feeling that won’t help my case.

  “Alix, if you’re not her constant companion, there will come a point where she won’t remember where she is, why she is where she is, how she got there. Without a constant watchful eye, she’ll wander off, trying to figure out where she’s supposed to be. It will get to the point where she won’t even have the ability to communicate. You won’t be able to do anything but take care of her, feed her, watch her every move.”

  I feel my heart in my stomach and want to plug my ears. I don’t want to think of her like that. My mom is levity. She is independence. She is bravery. She’s not this disease.

  I sigh. “That’s not new information. I’ve done my research, Doc. I’m well aware of the road we’re heading down. But, she’s my mom. You expect me to just put her in a home? She’s too young for that. It’s not for her. And crap happens in those facilities—abuse, neglect. How could I ever trust anyone else? I can’t subject my mom to that. I’ll do a better job than they will.”

  “I understand your concerns, and I clearly have no say,” he says respectfully. Dang straight you have no say. “I’m just trying to help you and her. She may need further medical care in the next few months. You will have no life. Your life will be taking care of her—babysitting her as you would a child. There are plenty of good facilities out there that come highly recommended. I’d be happy to tell you about them.”

  “Even if I agree to that, how would I pay for it? That’s thousands of dollars a month. We barely get by. I make enough to get us through the month with only the necessities. We may get a check every month from the dirt bag I used to call Dad, which pays for the mortgage,” the least of which he could do, “but after all that’s said and done, even with money my mom has saved, we can’t afford it.”

  He looks reassuringly at me, almost pleading with me. “There are assistance programs for situations such as yours, Alix. I could help you figure it out.”

  Is that even part of his job description? I can’t do that to her. Nothing we could afford would be worth it. I shake my head. “Thank you, Dr. Fallon. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.” I grab my purse, stand, and turn toward the door. “I’ll set up her next appointment up front.”

  I hear him sigh and get up from his leather chair. “Just think about it, Alix. It’s only an option. No one can force you to do anything, but don’t shut out viable options.”

  I turn and nod. He smiles politely and opens the door for me. “They’ll have her new prescriptions up front. I’d like to see her in about six months, unless she needs to see me before then.”

  I nod to acknowledge him and walk out the door.

  “Have a nice day, Alix.”

  I don’t turn back around as I say, “You too, Doc.”

  Mama is sitting with the nurse outside the door, waiting for me. “Okay, Ma. Let’s go.” I hold out my hand for her. She slowly eases her hand into mine likes she’s not sure if she should trust me. I can see her brain wondering who I am. She recognizes me, but can’t find my name. I smile to ease her uncertainty and make our way up front.

  “Phil should be here soon. Any...” She trails off and begins to mumble.

  Hearing his name again isn’t any easier. “He’s probably just running late,” I play along. “We’re going to set up your next appointment and go home.”

  Dr. Fallon’s words ring in my ears. I don’t know how much more I can take. Maybe it’s not progressing as quickly as it did in the beginning, but it still feels like I lose more of her every day.

  Because I can’t leave her alone anymore, I’ve had to start working from home so that I can keep an eye on her. I’ve held it together pretty well, all things considered, and I realize it’s only a matter of time before it becomes too much. But a care facility? I can’t do that to her. She’s too young for a place like that. I just…can’t.

  After Mama and I check out, we walk back through the waiting room full of elderly people. I’m reminded of how out of place we are. She’s too young for this disease.

  “Mrs. Ballard,” a nurse calls from the doorway.

  At the sound of his last name I look anxiously around the waiting room and see Aiden helping his grandma stand. As soon as she’s on her feet, Aiden looks up, and our eyes lock from across the room.


  I specifically chose this facility because it isn’t in Willowhaven. No one would recognize us or question our presence in a neurologist’s office in Bakerton. And yet, somehow, the one person I want to keep at arm’s length is across the room, staring at me like he can’t decipher a riddle.

  Normally, this would be the moment where his eyes would light with teasing and he’d holler some tactless—though amusing—catcall, and I’d roll my eyes, hide my smile and ignore him, but we’re clearly in the wrong environment for that. He must see the discomfort in my eyes because he doesn’t say a thing. He blinks, unsure of what I’m doing here.

  “C’mon, Alix. I’m so hungersty.” Mama tugs on my hand, pulling me toward the exit. The first time she created her own ending to a word I had to ask her three times what she meant. Her made up words are so common now it’s as if I’ve learned a new language.

  Aiden’s eyes shift to my mom with questions swirling. She’s not carrying herself the way a forty-seven year old normally would. Her shoulders sag with impatience as she pouts the way a five year old would.

  When he looks back at me, the questions are clear. What are you doing here? Is everything okay?

  Go out with a guy a few times, kiss him, and he expects to know all your personal business. Sorry, Aiden. Not happening. Not today.

  I avert my gaze and focus on the exit, on the glass double doors that hold our freedom. “I’m sorry, Mama,” I say quietly. “We’re going. I’ll make you something when we get home.” We walk through the automatic doors without looking back.

  AIDEN

  ALIX WALKS OUT of the doctor’s office. I take a step, about to go after her. Normally, our exchanges aren’t so stilted. I can usually get an eye roll or a suppressed smile, something. I’d take anything over what just happened.