She eyed it for a moment, as if she wasn’t sure if she should touch me. Then she placed her hand in mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s nice to meet you, Calloway. Please sit down.”
I stepped aside and allowed Rome to greet her next.
My mom stared at her hard, a flash of recognition coming over her face. “Do I know you from somewhere, dear?”
I shouldn’t be jealous that my mom remembered Rome better than she remembered me. I should only feel hopeful that there was a possibility that my mom could come back from this, that she could remember some events of her life—including me.
“I came to read to you a while ago.” Rome placed her hand over my mother’s, her affection warm. “That must be why you recognize me.” She leaned down and hugged my mom, wrapping her arms around her.
My mom softened at the touch and returned the embrace, like she was greeting a daughter. “Aren’t you sweet?”
Rome sat in the chair beside me, still wearing that gorgeous smile. Not only was she beautiful, but she had this amazing quality that drew everyone’s attention. Something about her made everyone obsessed, wanting to know more about her and be with her constantly. She obviously had some kind of special ability because she changed me—a Dom.
“How’s your day going?” Rome crossed her legs and tucked her hair behind her ear.
“It’s going,” Mom said with a sigh. “I had a difficult morning…couldn’t remember where I was or how I got here. It’s just one of those days.”
I couldn’t imagine how that would feel. Every morning, my mother woke up with a blank memory. She didn’t remember her family or her friends. She woke up in a place she’d never seen before. Her nurse told me some days were difficult—and others were extremely difficult. “You look nice today, Theresa.” It was strange to call her by her first name instead of Mom. Even though I was a grown man, I still preferred to address her as my mother. She was the woman who raised me, after all.
“Thank you…” She searched my face as she tried to recall my name.
“Calloway.” I hid my hurt with a smile.
“Calloway…that’s a nice name.”
That was the twentieth time I’d hear her say that. “Thanks. My mother had good taste.”
Rome moved her hand to my knee and gave it a squeeze.
“Are the two of you married?” Mom asked.
“No,” I answered. “We’re dating.”
“You two would make beautiful children,” she said, wearing her graceful smile.
“Thanks,” Rome said. “Maybe someday.”
I couldn’t picture myself being a father. I was too fucked up in the head. But if Rome wrapped me any tighter around her finger, who knows what I would do. She practically had magical powers. “Would you like me to read to you?”
“Maybe later,” she said. “I want to know more about you. You work where?”
“Humanitarians United,” I explained. “It’s a nonprofit geared toward helping those in need in the state of New York.”
“Sounds like a great program,” she whispered. “You volunteer?”
“I work there,” I explained. “Employees get a competitive salary. Any extra cash goes back into the program to help those in need.”
“That’s amazing,” she said. “If I had money, I’d give you a donation…but I don’t think I have any money.” Her eyes trailed away, and she tried to quantify her wealth. She never worked a day in her life because my parents got married very young. But she couldn’t remember any of that.
I felt terrible for her. “Don’t worry about it. The company is doing really well right now.”
“Is that how you both met?” she asked.
I couldn’t tell my mother the story of how I met Rome. No one would ever understand. “Yeah.”
“That’s wonderful,” Mom said. “Some people say you shouldn’t date someone you work with, but I think that’s a great idea. Where else are you going to meet someone?”
In a bar where a woman walks up to you and slaps you.
Mom asked Rome a few other questions about Humanitarians United. The two of them got along well, and I could tell that my mom would love her if she could actually remember her. She would be the ideal daughter-in-law. It was a shame my mother wouldn’t remember either one us of the following morning.
Sometimes, I wondered why I put myself through this. Every time I looked at the glaze of confusion in her eyes, my heart broke. Every time I looked at the blank expression on her face, I felt disappointed. And every time I left, I felt like I didn’t accomplish a damn thing.
So why keep doing it?
The doctors said it would only get worse from here on out. There was no possibility of improvement, even with new research. But I hated the idea of my mother being completely alone with no one to visit her. She didn’t remember it anyway, but I still wanted to be there for her. I knew she would be there for me if the situations were reversed.