by Pat Simmons
“Cut it in half,” Aunt Tweet ordered with a suspicious grin and adjusted her pink hat.
“Why don’t you sit here and watch me?” Tabitha patted a spot on her bed, then sprinted into her closet and grabbed the first dress she saw off the hanger. Before she raced into her shower, she wagged her finger lovingly. “Please don’t leave this house,” she begged, putting her hands together in a prayer gesture.
Although her aunt nodded and seemed content, Tabitha broke a record with her grooming. Even her sisters would be impressed.
Defiant as a toddler climbing out of a playpen for a toy, her aunt had disappeared when Tabitha hurried out of the bathroom, but the aroma of breakfast cooking meant Aunt Tweet was still in the house. Tabitha dressed, then gathered her purse and walked downstairs. Aunt Tweet was busy behind the stove, whipping up scrambled eggs, while sausage sizzled in another skillet. Toast was already stacked on a plate.
Once everything was cooked, they silently gave thanks. While enjoying breakfast, Aunt Tweet gave Tabitha an odd expression, then chuckled to herself. “You remind me of my graduation picture from George Washington High School.”
Tabitha beamed at the compliment she’d heard more than she could remember growing up.
“You should’ve been my sister instead of Pallie.”
Priscilla “Aunt Tweet” and Palmira “Pallie” were twins, though not identical. From what her father had shared, Aunt Pallie had died in her twenties from tuberculosis. Their only other sibling was Tabitha’s paternal grandmother, Pearl. Aunt Tweet was the only one left out of three girls. No husband or children. The Knicely girls were the last living relatives Aunt Tweet had on Tabitha’s father’s side. Kinfolk on her mother’s side were so distant that Tabitha wouldn’t know them if she passed them on the sidewalk.
Pushing aside her plate, Aunt Tweet sat back in her chair. Though her face had held a happy expression moments earlier, it was now crestfallen. “Live so you won’t have regrets.”
Where did that come from? “Do you have regrets?”
Aunt Tweet stood. “I’m ready to go.” Instead of taking her plate to the sink, she left it on the table—so unlike her—and walked out of the kitchen.
Was her aunt avoiding to elaborate, or had she already forgotten her statement? That was another mystery that might not be solved. Tabitha wished Aunt Tweet had forgotten about church. Tabitha could really use a couple more hours in bed.
“It’s not about me,” Tabitha mumbled to herself. She scooped up the last of her eggs, wiped her mouth, then reached for their plates.
During the short drive, fear struck Tabitha. What was behind the sudden rush to attend church? Did her aunt sense death was imminent and she had regrets about something she did or didn’t do? God, please give her more time, or at least don’t let her die while she’s in my care. She swallowed.
Following the route to Bermuda Place, she saw the church before Aunt Tweet pointed. Tabitha admired the beautifully constructed white stone complex that housed Bethesda Temple. The entrance was inviting, as were those who greeted them in the parking lot and inside the large foyer. A representative gave them welcome badges, then a very handsome male usher led them inside a large sanctuary.
Tabitha could feel the charged energy in the atmosphere. She strained her memory and couldn’t recall the last time she had been to church, whether of her own volition or at someone’s invitation.
Maybe her own brain cells had started to die if she couldn’t remember something so simple. From her research, Tabitha could be susceptible to early onset Alzheimer’s if she’d inherited mutations in genes on chromosomes twenty-one, fourteen, and one, but late onset after the midsixties would add chromosome nineteen to the equation. In essence, her father would have been the carrier from Grandma Pearl. Could her mutations be associated with other diseases like Lewy body dementia? Hold up. She was overanalyzing things.
Dismissing all medical-related thoughts, Tabitha relaxed in her seat and noted her surroundings. She had never seen people so serious about their worship. She smiled, admiring the little girls whose braids were adorned with bows and beads. Ties accented little boys’ attire.
Will I ever have a family? Tabitha wondered as she scanned the sanctuary for husband material. Every man she saw had a woman by his side. Didn’t matter anyway. The timing wasn’t right for dating. Her focus was on being a caregiver. Right now, she would prefer a nap over going on a date.
A melodious sound drew Tabitha out of her reverie. Facing Aunt Tweet, Tabitha could only stare as her aunt harmonized with the music. What an angelic sound. She vaguely remembered that her aunt had possessed such a gift. Her father once said Aunt Tweet could rival Lena Horne, but Tabitha thought it was a myth. Clearly, he had been right. Wow. Closing her eyes, Tabitha reveled in the singing of “How Great Thou Art.”
Too soon, the singers ceased and so did Aunt Tweet. Tabitha didn’t hide her disappointment as she squeezed her aunt’s hand. A middle-aged man stepped to the podium and introduced himself as Pastor George Nelson. Clean-shaven and without a minister’s robe, he looked more like a businessman than a preacher.
“Will our visitors please stand so the church can welcome you?” he said in a strong voice that commanded attention.
Aunt Tweet popped up and Tabitha followed. Her aunt seemed to soak in the attention as the audience heartily applauded. Glancing around, Tabitha noted there were many visitors sprinkled throughout the sanctuary.
“Thank you for joining us. We hope you will come back again. Please, take your seats,” Pastor Nelson said. He directed everyone to open their Bibles to Philippians 4:6–7. Tabitha felt embarrassed. Not only had she not brought a Bible, but she didn’t even know which box in her basement contained it. Good thing the scripture was displayed on an overhead screen.
“We’re stressed out today, whether it’s at home, on the job, or with family obligations,” he began. “Do you ever feel like giving up? Don’t! The stats on depression are overwhelming. Folks don’t know the antidote for stress. It’s simply in these two verses: ‘Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.’ This is our formula: be prayerful, petition God with your struggles, and give thanks for the good things in your life.”
If only it were that simple. Tabitha’s formula for reducing stress was sleep.
“If you’ve locked God out of your life, let Him back in. Trust the Lord to relieve you of your burdens and you’ll get a good night’s rest,” the preacher said as if he were reading Tabitha’s mind.
Before closing his Bible, he encouraged his congregants to meditate on that passage throughout the week, then paused. “Now, for those of you who came here today with a heavy heart, God’s salvation is waiting for you. Stop fighting against God’s perfect will for your life and surrender.” He lifted his arm. “Come to the altar.”
As the choir sang “Come to Jesus,” Tabitha’s aunt’s melodious voice blended in like an instrument.
“You’ve been holding out on me.” Tabitha smiled and patted her aunt’s hand that was adorned with rings. “You could sing to me anytime.”
Aunt Tweet chuckled. “I used to all the time when you and the girls were babies.”
Tabitha’s heart pounded with excitement. Her aunt’s right mind was back. “Really? Why did you stop?”
“I can’t remember.” Aunt Tweet seemed frustrated.
“It’s all right.” She slid her arm around her aunt’s shoulder and squeezed. Tabitha was experiencing a level of that same frustration too. After the benediction, they made their way to the parking lot, smiling and nodding at folks along the path.
Next, the two enjoyed a buffet at Nana’s Place. When Aunt Tweet massaged her stomach in fulfillment, Tabitha knew it was time to go h
ome. Since the Knicely sisters became caregivers, their Sunday evening ritual included Skype calls among them, so they could be briefed on Aunt Tweet’s condition.
Sitting next to Tabitha at the kitchen table, Aunt Tweet peered at the monitor but said very little. Every now and then, she would add a chuckle to their chatter.
“Can you believe Aunt Tweet woke me to go to church?”
“Our Aunt Tweet?” Kym blinked in surprise.
Rachel frowned. “I don’t ever recall our aunt attending church. She reserved her Sundays for brunches, luncheons, and social functions.”
Tabitha nodded. “Yeah, threw me for a loop too. Then once we were there, Aunt Tweet sounded like a songbird.”
“Really?” Kym grinned. “Auntie, how could you bottle up all that talent and hold it in all these years? Sing for us.”
They all laughed, even their aunt, before she mumbled, “I don’t think I ever learned how to sing.”
Huh? Tabitha’s jaw dropped. Her aunt’s bout of confusion was confusing. Her sisters looked at her with doubtful expressions. Tabitha had not imagined what she heard. She wondered what other hidden talents were trapped inside, screaming to get out. Soon, their aunt said her goodbyes and headed toward the stairs for her bedroom.
“Bummer,” Rachel said. “I’d give the world to have heard her. Dad said Grandma bragged about Aunt Tweet singing in clubs and at parties, then she stopped.”
“Hmm.” Tabitha rested her chin on a fist, wondering if something traumatic happened. “Well, add gospel to her repertoire.” Should she tell them about the other developments without freaking them out? “Her angelic voice was the good thing that happened this week…”
“Ah, was there a bad thing?” Kym frowned. “Aunt Tweet doesn’t like the adult day facility, does she? Uh-oh. Tell us about your new job. Like it?”
“First, Aunt Tweet loves Bermuda Place,” Tabitha said with relief. “She thinks she’s an employee instead of a client. I guess she picked the church because we pass by it every day.” She paused. “As far as my job? The pharmaceutical industry is the same—different company, different drugs, and a tweaked training program. I do like my trainer, Ava Elise.”
“I wish there were a drug proven to reverse these dreaded dementia symptoms.” Kym gritted her teeth.
As a stall tactic, Tabitha settled into her clinical mode to delay telling them about Aunt Tweet’s wandering. “The brain is considered a complex organ, so it’s not a simple fix. There are about eighty drugs being tested now.”
“That’s a lot,” Rachel said with a sad expression. “Besides the meds she’s on now, we need to make sure she eats healthy and gets plenty of exercise—”
“About that exercise,” Tabitha interrupted to come clean. “Our dear aunt has taken some unsupervised walks in the mornings. She’s been sneaking out of the house before I wake up.”
“What?” Kym and Rachel shrieked at the same time.
“I know. Unbelievable, right?” Tabitha rubbed her forehead in frustration. “Thank God she was okay, but she picked the wrong neighbor’s porch to sit on. He went ballistic on me.” She closed her eyes, not wanting to relive her moments of shame. When she opened them, her sisters were peering closer at the monitor.
“That’s a concern,” Kym stated. “What if this neighbor had abducted or assaulted her?”
“After chewing my head off about Aunt Tweet’s trespassing on his property, he threatened to call the police if she showed up again.”
Rachel groaned. “I don’t think I can handle another police call that one of my loved ones is in custody.”
“Me either. He made me feel like a five-year-old.” Tabitha raised her voice.
“Sisters,” Rachel cut in, “apparently, this was an isolated case. Auntie is okay, and you’re aware of it. You’re going to have to really watch her.”
Tabitha thought twice about telling her sisters that Aunt Tweet had gone missing more than once and that the last time had caused her to be late to her new job and to have a breakdown while there. Their aunt hadn’t been in her care for a month, and already Tabitha felt like a failure. Tears welled up in her eyes, then fell unchecked.
“Tab, I’m sorry,” Kym said softly. “I know you have to adjust. I had winter and spring breaks when Aunt Tweet stayed with me. I took a short leave of absence in between, and when I returned to the university, she tagged along. Since she was in academia for so long, the familiar setup kept her in her element. We have to cherish our time with her before she forgets who we are.”
Dabbing her eyes, Tabitha sniffed. “Sorry. That came from nowhere.” I guess that’s from my unchecked stress that the minister preached about today. “Anyway, it’s already happening. She’s called me ‘miss’ a few times.” She sighed. “Kym, I’m glad you had a smooth transition as her first caregiver. Everything was going okay for me too—at first. Instead of taking a family medical leave from the other company, I changed jobs, thinking everything would run smoother. Ah!” Tabitha shook her head. “Although we’re getting a stipend for her care, I’m accustomed to working.”
“No need to explain to us, Sis,” Rachel said. “We’re in this together. My turn is after yours. I wonder if getting her a dog would keep her more settled.”
No way. “I can’t take on more responsibility. This is harder than I thought. I’m trying to adjust to her ever-changing versions. She looks the same, but I have to remind myself that dementia is the culprit when she says and does things out of the norm.”
Kym looked thoughtful. “If you need more time to adjust with the new job and everything, I can come get Aunt Tweet and bring her back with me for, let’s say for three months.” Always in big-sister mode, she believed in taking charge when she didn’t feel a situation was going as planned.
“Nope.” Tabitha wasn’t a quitter, nor did she want a rescue—yet. “I needed to vent. That’s all.” She exhaled. After all, she had prepared herself for the caregiver role, learning the stages and recognizing the symptoms. “Everything will work out.”
“Think about activities to keep her occupied…and pets do make great companions for the elderly,” Rachel said. “We’re in this together.”
It didn’t feel like it this week. Tabitha felt alone and could have used another pair of eyes to monitor their aunt’s whereabouts at all times. “I got this,” she assured them before ending their Skype chat. To be on the safe side, she raced upstairs to make sure Aunt Tweet wouldn’t make a liar out of her with another visit to that mean old Jerk’s house. Let him call 911. She dared him.
You’ll be sorry, a voice in her head admonished her, so Tabitha quickly withdrew her unspoken dare.
Chapter 7
“You were missing in action this weekend, bro,” Demetrius said, ribbing Marcus when he strolled through the door Monday morning. “Everything all right?”
“Yep.” He was in a good mood after a great weekend. “A college buddy popped into town, and we spent Saturday hanging out, catching up.” He rested his laptop bag on the desk. “Sunday, I had brunch with the vice president of Enterprise Leasing, then we golfed for a few hours. I’d say I was in good company.” He was in a great mood to begin the workweek.
“Smooth.” Demetrius exchanged a fist bump with Marcus. “I heard their contract with the current cleaning crew is expiring. Best time to network.”
“You know it. Hey, have you checked in with Mom and Dad? I haven’t been able to reach them.”
Sometimes John and Sylvia Whittington, both of whom had retired from the phone company and moved to North Carolina three years earlier, would take off for mini vacations at a moment’s notice. The tables had turned. Instead of the parents trying to keep up with their two little boys, it was the other way around now as he and his brother attempted to track their aging parents’ whereabouts at all times.
Demetrius shrugged. “They went sailing with a stopover on Govern
ors Island. They said they had enjoyed it so much, they and their friends, spent the night with no hurry to return home.”
Shaking his head, Marcus envied their no-cares-in-the-world lifestyle. “They are living it up.”
“Yep, and they were ecstatic when I told them you were out of pocket because you were in a complicated relationship with your neighbor and possibly on a date.” He snickered. “Mom seemed real interested.” So amused with himself, Demetrius doubled over, laughing as he returned to his desk.
Cutting his eyes toward Demetrius, Marcus didn’t appreciate being the source of his brother’s amusement. “You what?” He didn’t bother taming his roar. “My last and only complicated romantic relationship was with Chelsie. That was enough drama to last a lifetime.”
Demetrius bobbed his head and grunted. “Glad she is old news. Only money could buy that chick’s love. I’m glad you saw that and cut your losses.”
“I’m still trying to figure out what possessed you to concoct a story about Tabitha and her aunt. When she’s out of sight, she out of my mind.” Maybe, Marcus said to himself. “What’s your fascination with my neighbor?”
“You tell me. You come in mad about her aunt. Granted, you don’t get heated easily, but I’ve seen you mad, and when you talk about Tabitha, you ain’t mad enough to carry out your threat.” He twisted his mouth into a smirk.
Hmph. Marcus didn’t take the bait. His brother didn’t know him that well.
Demetrius’s amusement diminished to soft chuckles before more laughter flared up again. “Sorry, your love life took the attention off me not having one. Mom accuses me of being too picky. Anyway, expect her to return your call tonight.” He boasted a puppy-dog expression. “You can thank me on your wedding day.”
Not to that woman. He did his best to keep his irritation under wraps. “Whatever.” There was a knock at their door, and Chess stuck his head inside the room, then motioned for Demetrius to step outside. If their team leader wanted to speak with his brother, it must be serious.
