“You guys, we need to talk,” I told them. “About what to do about Mom, yes—but also about me.”
Hadley sighed so deeply you’d think I’d just announced we needed to figure out how to repair the ozone layer. Come to think of it, that sounded less complicated to me. “There’s not enough wine in all of New York to make me ready for this conversation,” she said.
“That makes two of us,” said Piper, who took a long gulp from her stemless glass.
“Mom knows she has dementia,” I told them. “She admitted it to me the other day.” She’d told me it was okay to share that part with them, but she wanted to tell them about Nana Meyers herself.
“Whoa. I can’t believe she admitted it,” said Piper, stretching her legs in front of her.
“Me, neither,” I said. “But I’m glad she did. I feel like it’s going to make it easier to approach her about a solution.”
“So what is our solution?” asked Hadley, looking at me.
I tried to hide my surprise, because I’d assumed she’d take the lead on this one. “Well, I know we won’t have the full picture until she sees the neurologist, but it’s safe to assume that her dementia is going to progress.”
Piper nodded, but I saw that her eyes were welling with tears.
“You okay, Pipes?” I said.
She nodded. “Yeah . . . it’s just sad. Mom’s not even that old.”
“I know.” I moved over to where she was sitting, put my arm around her, and said what I was thinking. “This is awful. Heart-wrenching, really.”
And it’s about to get even worse after I tell you what I’m planning, I added mentally.
But then I thought about my conversation with Ben. Maybe it would get worse. But I was prepared to handle that.
“Here’s the thing, you two,” I said, looking back and forth between them. “Given what just happened with Mom getting lost and spending the night in the park, I don’t know that my ‘keeping an eye on her,’” I said, making air quotes, “from the upstairs apartment is going to be enough. Do you?”
Hadley shook her head.
“No,” Piper said quietly.
“Me, neither,” I told them. “And I definitely don’t want to be the reason why someone finds her floating in the Gowanus.”
Piper cringed. “Jeez Louise—that’s a little graphic.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s where my mind went when she was missing, probably because she used to say that’s exactly where she’d go if we tried to put her in a nursing home. And if you’d seen her at the park . . . well, it was terrifying.”
“Fair,” said Hadley, eyeing me. “But are you proposing we hire a full-time home health aide?”
“We already decided that wasn’t financially feasible,” I pointed out. “We’ll have to figure something else out.”
“Actually . . . I talked to Topper the other day. We’re willing to cover any extra costs.”
“Whoa,” said Piper.
“Seriously. Are you sure?” I asked.
“I am,” said Hadley. “As Topper pointed out, the whole point of having money is to be able to help in situations like this.”
“I don’t even know what to say, other than thank you,” I said softly.
“You’re welcome,” said Hadley. “The real question is, will Mom agree?”
“Given my talk with her the other day, she won’t be happy, but I think she’ll be open to it. And if she completely loses her memory . . .” A vision of my Nana Meyers curled onto her side beneath a thin sheet appeared in my mind. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I guess I hope it never comes to that.”
“We all know Mom thinks a nursing home is a one-way ticket to the grave,” said Hadley frankly.
“I know,” said Piper. “Maybe it is.”
“Maybe we have to be okay with that,” I said, and although they both looked surprised, neither of them corrected me.
“I took a look at Mom’s bank accounts,” said Hadley. She glanced out the window briefly before looking back at us. “The aide is expensive, but a decent nursing home is a fortune. At that point, we may need to take other measures to cover the cost. We might even need to sell the brownstone,” she said sadly. “And that’s provided we can talk her into giving one of us power of attorney before we have to go to court for it.”
I hadn’t really thought through the financial or legal implications of all this. Would we really have to sell our childhood home? As much as I didn’t want to live there anymore, the thought was depressing.
And yet I was surprised to realize that it didn’t change my decision.
“I can help some, too,” said Piper, setting her wine on the coffee table. She’d been wise enough to sock away her income at the height of her success and had accumulated enough of a nest egg that she never had to worry about getting a “regular” job. And, apparently, to help our mother.
“I can’t yet,” I admitted. “My new business is going well, and I hope that will continue, but I’m serious about trying to get pregnant soon, and I don’t know where that will leave me financially. Which brings me to the next thing.” I swallowed hard. “I love you both so much, and I don’t want to hurt you. Or Mom.”
Piper was frowning, but Hadley’s face had already fallen. Of course, she knew what I was about to say next. How na?ve of me to assume this would be a surprise to her.
“I’m not moving to New York right now,” I said. “I’ll stay another month or two, but then I’m going back to Michigan. I don’t know if I’m going to stay there forever, either. But I don’t want to have a baby in New York. I can’t even fully explain why—but it’s important to me.”
Hadley rose from her chair and sat beside me. I took a deep breath, waiting for her or Piper to say something more. But she just put her arms around me, and then Piper did, too. At once, I realized that I’d been worried for nothing. They might not like or even agree with my decision. But my sisters loved me, and they were going to support me anyway.
“Thank you,” I said as they held me. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, Laine,” said Hadley. She gave me a sad smile. “I never actually thought you’d move here.”
“You didn’t?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“Me, neither, to be honest,” said Piper. She squeezed my shoulder. “I wanted you to, obviously. And when I heard you and Ben were speaking again, I wondered if maybe that would change your mind. Especially since you and Josh decided to go through with the divorce. But . . . I don’t know, Lainey. New York really isn’t your place anymore, is it?”
“No, it isn’t,” I conceded. I looked back and forth between them. “But you really aren’t upset? What about Mom?”
“I’m not upset at all,” said Piper. She smiled at me. “I’ve mostly done what I wanted all these years. I’m not going to judge you for making the right choices for your own life.”
“Same,” said Hadley. “And as for what we’re going to do—well, we’re going to figure it out one day at a time. We’ll start with hiring an aide and find some sort of solution for nighttime. I’d have preferred it if you were in the upstairs apartment overnight instead of a stranger, sure—and not just because it’s cheaper. But maybe we can find someone we trust to be up there and install some kind of alarm system or something.”
I was getting choked up again. They were being so generous that I didn’t even know what to say or how to express my gratitude. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I am so lucky to have you both.”
“Oh, don’t thank us yet. You’re going to be involved in the decision-making process, you know.”
“I do. And I’m going to do as much as I can.”
“I know you are,” Hadley said with a wink.
“We want you to visit more than you have been,” said Piper. “But to be fair, I think we owe you a few more visits, too.”
“Yeah.” I laughed. “You sure do.”
“So now what?” asked Hadley, leaning back against the arm of the sofa. Call me crazy, but she actually looked more relaxed than she had in days, possibly even weeks.
I took a deep breath. “Now I tell Mom.”
THIRTY-FIVE
LAINE