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Show Fair Forever 141 Mom thanks her for her patience and we head home, grabbing a pizza to go. We eat on the porch, watching night fall. Mom looks through the mail. She slides a finger in an envelope and opens the end. Pulling out a bill, she frowns. Then she looks up and her eyes brighten. "You're birthday is next Tuesday. Do you want a cake?" She's asking because I like pie more than cake, but cakes are easier to make. "Sure," I answer. She massages her temples. "I could make a pie if you like. I have canned pumpkin in the pantry." Pumpkin is my favorite, with whipped cream. "Nah," I answer. "Cake sounds fine. How about chocolate with chocolate icing?" Then I add, "And thanks for understanding about the party, Mom. You do understand, right?" She lays the bills on her lap and looks in my eyes. "I think I do," she says. In my pocket, I can feel my cell phone resting against my leg, a reminder of my cowardice. I look at the night through the porch screens. Bay lights flash in the dark. I wonder about the old man. "Do all old people end up in rest homes?" I ask. Mom raises her head from the bills. "A lot do," she sighs. "It's not uncommon," "He didn't know me at first, like you suspected., But he was fine after,a minute." I pause. "Will he get worse?" Mom considers the question. "It depends. Some days he might forget where he is or what he did yesterday or what he, was talking about. Other times, he might not even remember his own name." She stands and walks to the screen door. "It's strange-there are some things that people with dementia never forget. • Even on bad days." . |