Page 25 of Gone Tonight
“Alzheimer’s. Early-onset. The doctor is pretty certain.”
Melanie’s expression doesn’t change, but her eyes do.
“She’s going to start—”
Melanie puts a hand on my arm. “I know. My boyfriend’s grandfather had it. I’m so sorry.”
My chin wobbles, but I hold it together. “Has she made any mistakes at work yet? I don’t want her to get in trouble.”
I see her casting back in her memory, searching for an overlooked clue.
“I haven’t noticed a thing,” she tells me. “Truly.”
That makes me feel a tiny bit better. I’m not the only one who didn’t catch the symptoms early on. It also lends credence to my supposition that my mother’s disease is still in a very early stage.
“That’s good. Just keep me posted, okay?”
“I will, honey. Here.” Melanie pulls a pen out of her apron and hands it to me. “Write down your cell number on a napkin. I’ll text you later so you have mine.”
I do as she instructs, then glance over Melanie’s shoulder. My mother is still taking orders at her big table, but she’s also sneaking peeks at us. She doesn’t like that I’m talking to Melanie. She’s probably worried we’re having this exact conversation.
“One more thing. When you guys go out for drinks again, could you tell me your plans in advance? My mom and I have location sharing with each other, but if she forgets her phone at home or leaves it at the bar…”
“Wow, you still share your location with your mom? Wish I could get my kids to do that with me.” Melanie’s voice is warm. She’s tryingto comfort me without saying sympathetic words. “Of course, I’ll let you know, hon. But…”
A guy at a nearby table gestures to her, making a writing motion in the air to signal he wants the check, but Melanie doesn’t acknowledge him.
She’s frowning as her eyes grow faraway.
There’s something she’s remembering. A loose thread, the genesis of an unraveling. Maybe my motherhasbeen making mistakes, but they haven’t tallied into a pattern in Melanie’s mind until now.
I brace myself.
“I wish your mom would take me up on drinks. I’ve been trying to get her to go out for years. But she always says she’s too tired, and you’re all the company she needs.”
Melanie squeezes my shoulder and hurries off to tend to her table.
Melanie’s words were perfectly clear, but I can’t make sense of them. Melanie said she and my mother have never gone out for drinks. The blind dates my mother supposedly had—the ones she told me Melanie and her boyfriend arranged—didn’t exist. All those girls’ nights out when my mother came home late, acting tipsy, were a fabrication.
I don’t know how long I sit there, stunned, the fries growing cold on my plate. Finally, something compels me to lift my eyes.
Across the restaurant, my mother is staring at me. She’s like a statue in the midst of the swirl of the busy restaurant.
When she catches me looking, she whips around and walks toward the kitchen.
CHAPTER TWELVERUTH
Catherine told Melanie. It’s obvious.
Melanie doesn’t act any differently toward me, but I can sense the shift in her energy. I see her scan my tables, like she’s checking to make sure my customers appear happy.
Of all the people Catherine could have told, Melanie is a pretty safe one. I just hope they didn’t talk about anything more.
When lunch rush is over, I take a break and check my phone. There’s a text from Catherine:Going to catch a movie with a friend tonight. See you when I get home if you’re still up.
I pour myself a coffee and lean against the counter and sip it while I ponder her words. Catherine doesn’t have a lot of close friends. She’s a homebody, like me. And ever since she split up with that loser Ethan, she hasn’t been romantically involved with anyone.
I wonder who she’s seeing the movie with. I wonder if she’s seeing a movie at all.
