Free Something Fierce by David Drayer

used to do when they were at home and she’d wake him up after having a nightmare. That’s the Gail he saw in his mind just then—not the busy wife, mother, and hub of the family—but his baby sister wearing a pink Care Bear nightie with most of the sparkles worn off, her long, pin-straight hair framing a small face streaked with tears. Her big brother was always her first choice when she needed comforting, over Mom, over Tina, even over Dad. “Tell me what’s going on.”
    “We were at the funeral home. Me and Mom,” she said, trying to compose herself. “She’d picked out Rita’s dress this morning and we met at the funeral home to go over the arrangements. I did most of the talking, made all the decisions. Mom just stood there like she was a million miles away. I kept asking her if she was okay and she said she was fine. Then she just walked out. Not a word. Nothing. I figured she needed some air so I gave her a few minutes but when I went outside, she was gone. Her car was gone.”
    “Does she have the cell phone?”
    “No. That’s the first thing I did. Dad answered. He said she left it on the kitchen table. We both thought she’d go home, but she didn’t. He’s worried too. He’s out in the truck so we can cover twice as much ground. Everyone else is still at work.”
    “I’m sure she just needed to get away for a few minutes. This has to be really hard on her.”
    “It can’t be any worse than the last seven years. If anything, it is a relief. Oh God, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
    “It’s okay. I know what you meant.” Alzheimer’s stole their sharp-witted, favorite aunt and their mom’s older sister and best friend from them one memory, one faculty at a time over the past years, leaving a shell of a person with a vacant stare who didn’t recognize any of them, couldn’t feed herself, or remember how to use the bathroom.
    “If Mom needed to get away,” Gail said, “she would have said that. She wouldn’t just disappear. That isn’t like her at all and you know it.”
    His sister was right. One of Janet Hardy’s greatest concerns was putting anyone out, being a burden in any way, worrying anyone. Taking off without telling a soul where she was going was absolutely out of character. “Picking out the clothes for her sister to be buried in, going to the funeral home, that’s stressful, painful,” he said. “A person acting strange at a time like this is not strange at all.”
    But of course, this wasn’t why Gail was so upset. Their mom had become forgetful lately and they were all silently worried, quietly terrified that she might be showing early signs of the disease that robbed Aunt Rita of her life and her dignity years before actually killing her late last night. He heard his niece start to cry in the background and Gail instantly switched gears from scared daughter to nurturing mother. “It’s okay, baby,” she was saying. “Mommy’s here. We’re just going for a little ride. You like rides, don’t you?” Stephanie cried harder. Back into the phone, Gail said, “Poor girl has a terrible cold. I was hoping she’d sleep longer. I’m going to have to go. How far away are you?”
    “Maybe an hour and a half. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
    “Don’t speed, okay. I’m sorry for worrying you.”
    “I’m not worried. Mom is fine. I’m sure of it. She just needed a little space, that’s all.”
    “I’ll let you know if anything changes. If you don’t hear from me, call me as soon as you get in.” He could barely hear her over Stephanie’s wailing, “Oh, I know, honey, I know. Hey! Do you want to stop at the Dollar Store?” This seemed to quiet the little girl some and Gail said to Seth, “She loves going into the Dollar Store. You really think everything’s okay?”
    “I do.”
    “Honestly?”
    “Yes, Gail. Honestly.”
    “Okay,” she said, sounding much calmer than she was a few minutes ago.