A slipping mind

30.12.2024

Adelaide was standing by the road. The sun had set more than one hour ago.

Several large trees lined the street, but mostly there were quaint little shops. Few people were wandering about the street, but the shops still had life in them. 

She heard a noise to her left and turned to face a young Black man – maybe thirty years old. He was stout with short dreadlocks, bright eyes and a big smile.

“Hello, miss?” he called gently.

Adelaide turned to look at him. “Hello.”

He approached cautiously. “I work at the restaurant across the street. I noticed you had been standing out here for a while.” When she just stared at him, unresponsive, he went on. “Um, are you waiting for someone by any chance?”

“I don’t think so.”

The man raised his eyebrows. “I see. Do you remember why you came out today?”

Adelaide didn’t reply, just stared past the man. After a moment, she pointed across the street and said, “Hey, do you happen to know if that restaurant over there is any good?”

The man sighed quietly through his nose. 

“Ma’am, do you happen to have a relative who can come pick you up?”

“I have a husband,” she said. “Paul.”

“May I take a look at your phone and call him?”

Adelaide handed over her unlocked phone to him. As the young man began searching through her contact list, she commented, “You seem like a nice boy,” and patted his head.

After several minutes of searching he concluded that there was no one named Paul nor any husband in her contacts. “Anyone else I can call to pick you up?”

“I have a daughter named Claire,” she suddenly remembered. 

“Claire?” The man looked at her contact list once again. He pressed the call button

Fifteen minutes later, Adelaide sat in the car with her daughter Claire and some young child who sat in the back seat.

Claire had barely spoken the entire time.

“What were you doing out there, mom?” she finally asked. “That man told me you had been standing at the street corner for nearly two hours.”
“I had gone to pick up some milk,” Adelaide replied, suddenly remembering. She showered Claire the milk carton in her bag.

Eyes on the road, Claire finally choked out, “The man also said that you had wanted to call dad.”

“Yes, Paul,” Adelaide replied. “Where has he gotten off to? He can’t still be at work, right?”

Claire took a shuddering breath. Her voice cracked when she replied, “Mom, dad has been dead for three years. Remember? He had lung cancer.”

Adelaide had gone silent for several moments; perhaps she didn’t hear Claire.

Claire was about to turn to her mother and repeat herself when Adelaide screamed.

“NO. YOU’RE LYING. PAUL ISN’T DEAD. WHY WOULD YOU SAY SUCH A HORRID THING.”

The young girl in the back shrieked and Claire, equally started, swerved the car. An oncoming car blared their horn and gave Claire the middle finger.

The car skidded to a stop at a light. Claire’s chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. She turned to face her mother, who was now sobbing.

“Mom, it’s okay.” Claire murmured. She tried to put her hand on her mother’s shoulder, but Adelaide recoiled and cried, “Don’t touch me!”

Claire sighed. She gently urged the car forward.

Six minutes until we get to mom’s home, she thought.

A deer pranced on the side of the road, illuminated by the car headlights.

Four minutes now. 

Adelaide’s cries had ceased, and now she just stared, transfixed out the window.

Two minutes.

Claire suddenly realized how much her hands hurt from squeezing the steering wheel so tightly.

One minute.

Finally, they pulled up to her mother’s home. She went to the passenger seat and opened the door. 

Adelaide startled. “Oh, hi Claire! What are we doing now?”

“We are going to go inside and put you in bed.”

As if queued, Adelaide yawned and stretched her arms. “That’s a great idea, honey. Is Paul already in bed then?”

“Yes, he is, mom. Come on, let’s go.”

She grabbed her mother’s cane and helped her stand up. “Lucy, come here for a moment.”

Lucy climbed out of the back seat and shuffled forward.

“Mom, Lucy is going to take you inside and to bed, okay?”

Adelaide gasped and tried to back away. “Who is this?”

Lucy blinked and looked up at her mother in confusion. 

Claire took her mother’s shoulders and spoke slowly and clearly. “This is Lucy, your granddaughter. She will take you inside.”

“I don’t have a granddaughter.”

Claire sighed. “Lucy, go wait for mommy on the couch.”

After getting her mother tucked into bed, Claire whipped out her phone and dialed a number. After several rings, she got an answering machine, to be expected given the time of day.

“Hi, Doctor McAllister, this is Claire Green. I am calling about my mother Adelaide….”

Five minutes later, Claire was in the kitchen, making herself a pot of tea. She had managed to distract Lucy with cartoons to avoid any questions from her daughter.

Suddenly remembering that her mother had gone out to buy a jug of milk, Claire put down her tea and trudged outside. She grabbed the milk and went back into the kitchen.

Claire opened the refrigerator door and gasped.

The fridge was completely filled with cartons of milk. Claire counted eighteen cartons in total, almost all of which had expired.

Claire collapsed onto the kitchen’s tiled floor, fridge still ajar, and buried her face in her hands. 

She sobbed.