Can't Get Enough (Skyland, #3)(52)

“I’mma pick up some of that kiwi you like,” Aunt Geneva replies after a few seconds. “Lemme go grab these keys so I can come back and make dinner.”

She exits the kitchen, leaving Mama and me alone. I arrived last night and in some ways, it feels like we don’t know each other well anymore. Of course, so much is changing for her and for me, too, but it seems more fundamental than that. Like we’re strangers who’ve been told we’re to act like family. We’ve never had trouble finding things to talk and laugh about, but this new reality is proving even more complex than I’d anticipated.

I peer through the kitchen window to the badly neglected garden, which used to be Mama’s pride and joy. Maybe getting back out there would give her something to focus on.

“What do you say we get out in the garden, Mama?” I turn to her with a smile. “Plant some of your favorite flowers. That might be fun.”

“Sounds like work,” Mama grumbles. “And it’s hot. Like I want to get out in the fucking garden in July and work on some damn flowers.”

Shock ripples over me. My mother never curses. I’ve never held back who I really am. I told her I lost my virginity in tenth grade and have not looked back. She knows that I pretty much only attend church when I come home for Christmas. Out of respect, I’ve never, as she would put it, “laid up with some man” in her house, and I check my expletives at the door. So to hear those words from her completely throws me off.

“Maybe later when it’s cooler, Betty,” Aunt Geneva says, watching us with one shoulder propped against the doorjamb.

“Fat bitch,” Mama snarls at her sister, her eyes lit with sudden fury. “I told you to leave me alone.”

“All right, now,” Aunt Geneva says, folding steel into her soft words. “We talked about this. You not gon’ cuss at me.”

“I’ll cuss at you if I want to.” Mama stands abruptly and walks over to her sister, flicking her head to the side. “You blocking the door. Get out my way.”

Aunt Geneva blinks rapidly and gulps, sure signs that she’s on the verge of losing the tenuous hold on her temper. After a few seconds, though, she steps aside and allows Mama to leave the kitchen.

“What was that?” I ask when Mama’s bedroom door snicks closed behind her. “Mama never—”

“You know folks with Alzheimer’s can experience personality changes and mood swings,” Aunt Geneva says. “It’s not all the time, but it is sometimes. Your mama would never…”

She looks up at me, and the fatigue and the sadness lay a thin patina over the acceptance I’ve seen in her ever since she learned of her younger sister’s diagnosis. I walk over to her. I’m not sure if she takes me into her arms or I take her into mine, but our quiet sorrow wraps around us. Holds us both. There is a slow onslaught of terrible things ahead for us, for Mama. And on the good days, the days when she’s lucid and barely changed, it’s easy to forget. This condition metes out tragedy in small doses.

“You know your mama,” Aunt Geneva finally finishes tremulously. “Hold on to that no matter how she seems or what happens. We know her and we love her. She loves us.”

She glances at her watch. “It’s three o’clock now. She can get a little agitated in the afternoons sometimes.”

“Sundowning?” I ask, pulling from the things I’ve been reading. I’ve always wanted to know what my mother is experiencing, but there’s been an increased urgency to understand ever since I found out Aunt Geneva needs me to be here while she recovers from surgery.

“I guess.” Aunt Geneva adjusts the purse strap on her shoulder. “It gets worse in the middle and later stages, but yeah.”

“Is Mama in the middle?” I ask softly.

“She’s here right now.” Aunt Geneva’s steady eyes don’t waver even though her response is not as certain as I had hoped. “That’s all I know.”

The low rumble of Aunt Geneva’s Ford Explorer is just fading when the calendar alert on my phone jangles.

“Darn it. I forgot about this appointment.”

Before my meeting with Nelly and Kashawn begins, I tiptoe upstairs and creak Mama’s bedroom door open to check on her. She’s fallen asleep with the pillow clutched to her chest on what used to be Daddy’s side of the bed. Grief floods my heart for a moment, but I stave off that wave of loss. I can’t afford it right now—not with Mama so fragile and Aunt Geneva about to have major surgery. I’m the one who needs to hold it all together. I cannot afford to fall apart.

Back in the kitchen, I pull the iPad from the bag at my feet and set it up on the table. Kashawn and Nelly are already on-screen when I log on.

“Ladies,” I greet them with a genuine smile. Seeing their faces improves my mood. “What’s up with you?”

“I’m on baby duty,” Nelly says, sighing and holding her trusty fan up to her face. “Beth went for a walk. I keep forgetting to thank you for those flowers, by the way, Hen. She loved them.”

“Oh I’m glad,” I say. “And how are things for you, Shawn?”

“Honey, slammed.” Kashawn shoots a harried look at the camera. “I only have about five minutes to spare. I’m in court tomorrow and not as prepared as I need to be.”