An Absent Mind(28)

I went over to a woman sitting at a desk by the front door and apologized for barging in. She, too, gave me the Friedman smile.

Then something snapped in my head, and I realized I had no idea where I was, but it wasn’t at home with Monique. And wherever I was, I was all alone. I sank down to the cold marble floor and began to cry.





Monique





Day 2—What’s Happening?


I didn’t sleep the whole night. I kept reaching out for Saul. Finally, I got myself out of bed, took a hot shower, and headed down the hill to see him.

The autumn air was cold, but I decided to walk instead of taking a taxi. Part of me wanted to get there as soon as possible, but another part, frankly, never wanted to get there at all.

The first set of glass doors opened, and I waited as they closed behind me. For a moment, it felt like I, too, was imprisoned, stuck between the two doors, trapped, just like Saul upstairs. I pushed the black button on the wall, and the second set of doors opened. I inhaled a deep breath of air and made my way through the lobby to the elevator.

When I got upstairs, I went down the hall to Saul’s room. He wasn’t there. I panicked. Horrible thoughts filled my mind. Had he escaped? Was he dead? What would I tell the children? How could I live knowing I would never see him again?

I heard voices behind me, one of them familiar.

“What are you doing here?” Saul asked. “I told you I don’t want the room done until after lunch.”

I turned and smiled, holding my arms out. Then he told me he had no intention of sleeping with me, that I was just a cheap whore. Besides, he said, Monique would be home any minute.

The nurse patted his arm, saying, “Mr. Reimer, this is your wife.”

He said, “Of course,” and then kissed me on the cheek before walking into his room.

The nurse told me I could take him to the dining room for breakfast, that it was okay as long as the residents could eat by themselves, or with a caregiver. Mon Dieu, I have gone from a wife to a mother over many years, and now from a wife and mother to a caregiver in only two days!

She said once the residents deteriorated to the point where it wasn’t possible to eat in the dining room anymore, they would have to eat in the third-floor lounge, where there was more supervision and where the staff could help feed them. And when things got worse, they would have to have their meals in their rooms. I can barely cope with today, let alone allowing myself to imagine Saul ending up worse than those crazies we saw last night.

There were only a few people in the dining room. One elderly lady sat at a table by a large window that overlooked the quiet residential street, chewing the same piece of food over and over again, while her private nurse waited to give her the next spoonful. Another woman wandered between the tables until one of the servers took hold of her arm and guided her back to her seat.

I chose a table in the corner by a fake palm tree. Saul pulled my chair out and waited until I sat down before doing so himself. He seemed not to notice that he was in this new milieu. He asked me about the kids, wanting to know whether Joey’s business was doing okay yet and whether Florence would be stopping by to see him. I can’t figure all this out. It’s like sometimes he’s here and sometimes he’s not, like in that television program The Twilight Zone.

The dining room was much like a typical Sheraton hotel. For a moment, it was as if Saul and I were having breakfast on one of our trips. Except there was no newspaper in front of Saul’s face. We used to travel a lot, until he became more and more reluctant to leave home. I didn’t know it then, but I know now that not wanting to leave familiar surroundings is an early sign of Alzheimer’s. I wonder if he would be any better off today if I had recognized it back then.

A spindly waitress in a gray uniform brought over two plates heaped with scrambled eggs and placed them in front of us.

I said, “My husband absolutely detests scrambled eggs and will never eat them. Can he have something else?”

As she rattled off the other choices, I looked over at Saul, who had a vacant smile on his face, and was shoveling the last of the eggs into his mouth. I hardly know this man anymore, I thought.





Saul





Day 2—Good Food


Went to a new food place with Monique. Really good. We’re going back next time.





Saul





Day 33—The Police


To the best of my recollection, I have never called 911—until today. But when it comes to murder—my own murder—I had no choice. There is some kind of conspiracy to keep me here against my will and assassinate me. It’s the same group who were responsible for John Lennon’s death and the attempt on Ronald Reagan’s life. They’ve now moved north into Canada, and I am their first intended victim. I suspected something when they began following me every time I left the house. They never spoke directly to me. They didn’t have to. I knew they were after me.

I just got off the phone with Sergeant Lacolle. The others I spoke to before him asked for my address and phone number and said they would send a car, but no one ever showed up. So finally, I asked for a supervisor and got this Lacolle guy. He seemed to be familiar with my case. I asked him when the police were going to come for me, and if I should hide until they arrived. As I said that, I looked around the room and told the sergeant there was no real closet, just a shallow thing stuck on the wall. I asked if I should hide in the bathroom. He said that really wasn’t necessary.