She remembered my children.
My promotion.
The exact date of my law school graduation.
She even asked whether Judge Margaret Thorne had finally retired.
Very few people knew I’d clerked for Judge Thorne before becoming an Assistant Attorney General.
Confused people don’t remember details like that.
Around nine o’clock, Chloe stood.
“I’ll get Mom ready for bed.”
“I can help.”
Both of them looked at me simultaneously.
“No.”
Julian answered too quickly.
“We have our routine.”
“I’d like to spend time with my mother.”
Chloe’s smile returned.
“I’m sure you do.”
She gently touched my mother’s shoulder.
“Come on.”
Mom stood immediately.
Like someone responding to an order.
Not an invitation.
An hour later I quietly knocked on Mom’s bedroom door.
No answer.
I knocked again.
Still nothing.
The door wasn’t locked.
Inside, my mother sat fully dressed on the edge of her bed.
Still wearing the heavy coat.
The room was cold.
Very cold.
The thermostat had been turned down despite the spring weather.
“Mom?”
She looked relieved.
“I thought they’d come back.”
“They?”
She didn’t answer.
Instead she reached for my hand.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“I didn’t think you’d come.”
“Of course I came.”
She looked toward the hallway again before lowering her voice.
“They told me you were too important.”
My chest tightened.
“Who said that?”
“Julian.”
Another pause.
“He said important daughters don’t visit old mothers.”
I knelt beside her.
“Listen to me.”
I held both of her hands.
“I will always come.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I know.”
Then she whispered something that made every instinct I possessed begin screaming.
“They don’t like when I talk too much.”
The next morning was my mother’s birthday.
Julian ordered breakfast from an expensive bakery.
