“Mama still needs to take some blood tests—only way to tell if she has any other existing problems. As my one and only patient, Mama gets my undivided attention,” he added with a smile.

Leia looked at him, her smile turning serious. “Will Mama get better?” she asked, her anxiety suddenly seeping out, lingering in the air.

Daniel learned early on that the most difficult part of being a doctor was telling the hard truths.

He shook his head. “There may be moments when Mama will be more lucid, when she’ll connect with people and everything around her,” Daniel said. “But it’ll be temporary, it won’t last. There’s no cure for senility. I’m sorry.”

Auntie Leia nodded. “Hard not knowing, yeah. At least now we know to hope for those moments.” She gripped the handle of the wheelchair. “Don’t know what we’d do if you didn’t come home.”

Daniel felt a rush of blood warm his cheeks. “We’ll make her as comfortable as possible. I’ll give you some exercises that will also help,” he said. “Mama may surprise us.”

“I hope, yeah.”

Without another word, Auntie Leia reached out and pulled Daniel into a quick hug before stepping back, embarrassed. He never remembered her ever being someone who hugged. But in that moment her usually stoic gaze was soft and shy, and he glimpsed how she might have been as a young girl, tall and sweet and awkward.

20. Awakening

20

Awakening

Mama Natua felt the warmth of the sun filter through the buckling screen that wrapped around the front porch, like a hand caressing her cheek, hovering over her breast. She must have dozed off. For a moment she thought that her husband, Nestor, was alive again and standing next to her. She looked up. “Where have you been?” she asked. It was her no-nonsense, scolding voice. He always knew her real warmth and loving lay just beneath. When there was no answer, Mama caught herself. He’d been gone for so many years. He had fallen one day and was dead the next.

She was taking a long time to fall.

* * *