“With friends, I guess,”

“On a weekday night? That's not very smart.” She shrugged again, and looked pained to be baby-sitting for her father. “Are you spending any time with Sam when you get home?” He worried about Sam most of all, especially when it was hard for him to get home on time. The child needed more in his life now than just Aggie.

“I have a lot of homework to do, Dad.”

“That didn't look like homework to me just now, in your bedroom.”

“He's in bed, isn't he?”

“He wasn't when I got home. He needs you now, Mel. We all do.” He smiled. “You're the lady of the house now that Mom's gone.” But it was a responsibility she had never wanted. She wanted to be free to be with her friends, or at least talk to them. It wasn't her fault her Mom had gone. It was his. If he hadn't done whatever he did that she still couldn't figure out, Sarah would probably never have left them. “I want you to spend time with him. Talk to him, keep him company for a little while, check his homework.”

“Why? He's got Aggie.”

“That's not the same thing. Come on, Mel, be nice to him. You always used to treat him like your baby.” She had even cradled him the night Sarah told them she was leaving. But now, it was as though she wanted no part of any of them. Like Sarah, she had divorced herself from all of them. And Oliver suddenly wondered if Benjamin was having the same reaction. He seemed to want to be out all the time, and that was going to have to stop too. He just wished he had more time with all of them, to help them cope with their reactions and their problems. The phone rang as he was talking to her, and he almost sighed when he heard his father on the line. He was too tired to talk to him now. It was after ten o'clock, and he wanted to shower and climb into bed with Sam. It had been a brutal day at the office, and coming home at night was no longer easy either.

“Hi, Dad. How are you?”

“I'm all right.” He seemed to hesitate, and Oliver watched Mel escape while he talked to his father. “But your mother's not.”

“Oh? Is she sick?” For once, Oliver was too tired to be very worried.

“It's a long story, Son.” The older man sighed as Oliver waited for the news. “She had a brain scan this afternoon.”

“My God … what for?”

“She's been acting confused … and she got lost last week while you were gone. I mean really lost this time, and she fell off some steps and sprained her ankle.” Oliver felt suddenly guilty for not calling from Vermont, but he had had his hands full too. “She's lucky, I suppose, at her age, she could have broken her hip, or worse.” But it couldn't be much worse than what they had told him.

“Dad, they don't do brain scans for a sprained ankle. What is it?” His father seemed to be wandering too, and Oliver was too tired to listen to a long story.

He seemed to hesitate again. “I was wondering if … could I drive over to see you?”

“Now?” Oliver sounded stunned. “Dad, what's wrong?”

“I just need to talk, that's all. And our neighbor Margaret Porter will keep an eye on her. She's been a great help. Her husband had the same kind of problems.”

“What problems? What are you talking about? What did they find?” Oliver sounded impatient with him, which was rare, but he was so tired and suddenly very worried.

“No tumors, nothing like that. That was a possibility, of course. Look … if it's too late …” But it was obvious that he needed to talk to someone, and Ollie didn't have the heart to tell him not to come over.

“No, it's fine, Dad, come on over.”

He put a pot of coffee on and made himself a cup, wondering again where Benjamin was and when he was coming home. It was too late to be out on a school night, and he was anxious to tell him just that. But his father arrived first, looking worn and pale. He looked years older than he had just a week before on Christmas, and it reminded Oliver again of his father's weak heart. He wondered if he should be out driving alone at night, but he didn't want to upset him now by asking.

“Come on in, Dad.” He hoped the doorbell hadn't woken Sam, as he escorted his father into the big, friendly kitchen. His father declined the coffee, but took a cup of instant decaf, and let himself slowly down into one of the kitchen chairs, as Ollie watched him. “You look worn out.” He probably shouldn't have let him come, but he had thought his father needed to talk, and he was right. He slowly told Oliver the results of the brain scan.

“She has Alzheimer's, Son. Her brain is visibly shrinking, according to the scan. They can't be sure of course, but that and her recent behavior seem to confirm the diagnosis.”

“That's ridiculous.” Oliver didn't want to believe it. “Get another diagnosis.” But George Watson only shook his head. He knew better.

“There's no point. I know they're right. You don't know the things she's been doing lately. She gets lost, she gets confused, she forgets simple things she's known all her life, like how to use a phone, the names of friends.” Tears filled his eyes. “Sometimes she even gets confused about who I am. She's not sure if I'm me, or you. She called me Oliver for days last week, and then she flew into a rage when I tried to correct her. She uses language I've never heard her use before. Sometimes I'm embarrassed to take her out in public. She called the bank teller we see every week a 'fucking asshole' the other day. The poor woman almost fainted.” Oliver smiled in spite of himself. But it wasn't funny. It was sad. And then suddenly George looked around with a puzzled air. “Where's Sarah? In bed?”

For a moment, Oliver thought of telling him she was out, but there was no point hiding the truth from him.

He had to find out sometime. The odd thing was that he felt ashamed of it, as though he had failed to keep his wife, as though it were clearly all his fault. “She's gone, Dad.”

“Gone where?” His father looked blank. “Gone out?”

“No, gone back to school. To Harvard.”

“She left you?” George looked stunned. “When did that happen? She was here with you on Christmas …”It seemed impossible to comprehend, but he suddenly saw the sorrow in his son's eyes, and now he understood it. “Oh God, Ollie … I'm so sorry … When did all this come up?”

“She told me about three weeks ago. She enrolled in their master's program last fall, but I think there's more to it than that. She says she's coming back, but I'm not sure of that. I think she's kidding herself more than she's kidding us. I don't know what to believe yet. We'll have to wait and see what happens.”

“How are the children taking it?”

“On the surface, pretty well. I took them skiing last week, and it did us all a lot of good. That's why I didn't call you. She left the day after Christmas. But in reality, I think we're all still in shock. Mel blames it all on me, Sam has nightmares every night, and Benjamin seems to be handling it by hiding out with his friends day and night. Maybe I'm not sure I blame him. Maybe if that had happened to me at his age, I'd have done the same thing.” But the idea of his mother leaving them was inconceivable to both of them, and it brought their thoughts back to her, after Oliver's astounding revelation. “What are you going to do about Mom?”

“I'm not sure what I can do. They said that at the rate she's going, she could degenerate pretty rapidly. Eventually, she won't recognize anyone, she won't know me.” His eyes filled with tears again, he couldn't bear to think of it. He felt as though he were losing her day by day, and the thought of it made him feel all the more sharply Oliver's pain over losing Sarah. But he was young enough, he'd find someone else one day. Phyllis was the only woman George had ever loved, and after forty-seven years he couldn't bear the thought of losing her. He took out a linen handkerchief, blew his nose, and took a deep breath as he went on again. “They said it could take six months or a year, or a lot less, before she's in a totally removed state. They just don't know. But they think it will be hard to keep her at home once that happens. I don't know what to do …” His voice quavered and Oliver's heart went out to him. He reached out and took his hand. It was hard for him to believe they were talking about his own mother, the woman who had always been so intelligent and strong, and now she was forgetting everything she had ever known and breaking his father's heart in the process.

“You can't let yourself get too overwrought about this, or it'll make you sick too.”

“That's what Margaret says. She's the neighbor I told you about. She's always been very good to us. Her husband suffered from Alzheimer's for years, and she finally had to put him in a home. She had two heart attacks herself, and she couldn't take care of him herself anymore. He was like that for six years, and he finally passed away last August.” He looked miserably at his son. “Ollie … I can't stand the thought of losing her … of her not remembering anything … it's like watching her fade away bit by bit, and she's so difficult now. And she was always so good-natured.”

“I thought she seemed a little agitated on Christmas Day, but I didn't realize anything like this was happening. I was too wrapped up in my own problems, I guess. What can I do to help?” It was hideous, he was losing his mother and his wife, and his daughter would hardly speak to him. The women in his life were fading fast, but he had to think of his father now, and not himself. “What can I do for you, Dad?”

“Just be there, I guess.” The two men's eyes met and held, and Oliver felt a closeness to him he hadn't felt in years.

“I love you, Dad.” He wasn't ashamed to say it now, although years before, the words might have embarrassed his father. When Oliver was young, his father had been very stern. But he had softened over the years, and he needed his son desperately now, more than he'd ever needed anyone.

“I love you too, Son.” They were both crying openly, and George blew his nose again, as Oliver heard the front door open and close quietly, and he turned to see Benjamin walking swiftly up the stairs and he called out to him.

“Not so fast, young man. Where've you been until eleven-thirty at night on a weekday?”

Benjamin turned, looking flushed from the cold and embarrassment, and then he looked surprised to see his grandfather sitting there. “Out with friends … sorry, Dad. I didn't think you'd mind. Hi, Grampa, what are you doing here? Something wrong?”

“Your grandmother's not well.” Oliver was suddenly stern, and feeling strong again. His father's warmth seemed to give him new strength, at least someone still cared about him. And his father needed him, and so did the kids, even if Sarah didn't need him anymore. “And you know damn well you're not allowed to go out on a school night. You pull that again and you're grounded for two weeks. Got that, mister?”

“Okay, okay … I told you I was sorry.” Oliver nodded. The boy looked odd. Not drunk or stoned, but as though there was something different about him suddenly. He seemed more of a man, and he didn't seem inclined to argue. “What's wrong with Grandma?”

His grandfather looked up unhappily, and Oliver spoke up quickly for him. “Your grandmother's been having some problems.”

“Will she be okay?” Benjamin looked suddenly young and very frightened. It was as though Tie couldn't bear the thought of losing anyone else. He looked worriedly at the two men, and Oliver patted his shoulder. “She'll be okay. Your grandpa needs some support, that's all. Maybe you can find some spare time for him, away from all those friends that are so appealing.”

“Sure, Grampa. I'll come over and visit this weekend.” The boy was fond of him, and George Watson was crazy about his grandchildren. Sometimes Oliver thought he liked them better than he had his only son. He was mellower now and better able to enjoy them.

“Your grandmother and I would like that.” He stood up, feeling tired and old, and touched the boy's arm, as though it might restore some youth to him. “Thank you both. I'd better be getting home now. Mrs. Porter will be wanting to get home. I left your grandmother with her.” He walked slowly to the front door, with Benjamin and Oliver following.

“Will you be all right, Dad?” Oliver wondered if he should drive him home, but his father insisted that he preferred his independence. “Call when you get home then.”

“Don't be foolish!” George snapped. “I'm fine. It's your mother who's not well.” But his face softened again then, and he hugged Oliver to him. “Thank you, Son … for everything … and … I'm sorry about …”He glanced at Benjamin, and his look took them both in. “… about Sarah. Call if you need anything. When your mother's feeling a little better, maybe Sam could come over and spend a weekend.” But it didn't sound as though she was going to be getting any better.