Alex bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping at her. She couldn’t help it. Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he’d eventually believe it. He drove home as slowly as he possibly could. By the time he turned into the driveway to Martinez Lawn & Garden, a line of cars was piled up behind him, but at least his mother wasn’t angry with him.

Before the illness, she’d hardly said a cross word to him or Paul in their entire lives. She’d been a strict mother who set high expectations for her sons, but she’d also been kind and sweet and generous. He missed those qualities the most. The dementia made her angry, suspicious and impulsive, among other things that were hard to live with.

An hour later, he had his mother settled in her bed for a nap before dinner. Alex wandered into the living room and stretched out on the sofa. The workday was a total bust, and he couldn’t leave his mother alone anyway. He withdrew his cell phone from his pocket and went through the text messages from clients as well as a couple of friends who’d checked in to see how he was doing.

And how was he doing? Depended on when he was asked. Other than the unpleasantness with Sharon, last night had been awesome, from the moment he got to Jenny’s until Paul had called about their mom’s chest pains. Today had mostly sucked, except for when Jenny had driven him home and offered to help. That had been great. Being around her made him feel good, which was more than enough to keep him going back for more time with her.

The ups and downs of his daily life lately were nausea inducing, a thought that reminded him he needed to eat. But getting up to find food would take energy he just didn’t have, so he stayed on the sofa and called Jenny. He wanted to hear her voice. No, he needed to hear it, which was a thought that should’ve scared the shit out of him. But it didn’t. The thought of her soothed him.

“Mmm, hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. Were you sleeping?”

“Yeah. I conked out. How’s your mom?”

Alex pictured her in her bed, her face rosy from sleep. “Home and resting in her own bed.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said. “And how are you?”

“I feel like someone beat the shit out of me.”

“Funny, I feel the same way. I’ve been wondering if it might be more than a night without sleep and other stuff…”

“Other stuff?” he asked with a laugh. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“What would you call it? No, wait, don’t answer that. I’m afraid of what you’ll say.”