“What if I forget my family? What if there comes a day when I don’t remember my mom or Chase? What if my dad is gone, and I can’t even remember he existed?” he whispered. And then, the worst burden of all. “What if I lose you, Rory? What happens if I can’t remember who you are?”
The words left him feeling trapped. His whole life had come down to a second chance with Rory, to bringing her back into his life. What if he lost her all over again?
Her reply was muffled against his chest. “You’re not going to forget me, Sawyer. You’re not.”
But despite the conviction in her words, Sawyer knew that such a thing was beyond her control.
* * *
SAWYER PRETENDED NOT to notice as Rory reached out and stole a fry from his plate. Despite the delicious entrée, he could only pick at his food. He’d lost his appetite over the last few days, ever since bringing Rory home to visit his parents, and his dad had confused the seasons.
Following that particular scene, they’d scheduled another appointment with his dad’s neurologist. He confirmed what they should have seen coming—that the disease was progressing, and these symptoms were to be expected. The doctor gently warned them that these sorts of episodes would gradually become more frequent.
Sawyer’s dad, for his part, had remained quiet about the entire affair. Chase had played along in the moment, which was apparently something he’d read about—not to try and convince someone with Alzheimer’s that they were wrong. But later, his mom had told his dad what happened. Though Sawyer suspected his father was embarrassed, he also sensed his dad was mentally preparing, knowing that such mistakes would happen again.
And again. And again. Until it was routine.
Sawyer swallowed at the thought, his stomach twisting with discomfort. He pushed his plate away, causing Rory to look up. He’d been making a habit of visiting her while she was on her breaks at the restaurant. But each time he felt even guiltier than the time before. He was poor company these days, and he knew it. Though he’d promised to make the last two years up to her, he was doing a rotten job of it. He’d wanted to make her dreams come true...and now it looked as if he couldn’t even hold on to his own.
“Hey,” Rory murmured, pushing aside her own plate. “You doing okay?”
He forced a smile, though the look on her face told him it wasn’t a very successful attempt.
“I’m fine. How’s that steak?” He gestured to her half-eaten meal, but she ignored the question.
“You don’t have to pretend, you know.”
“Pretend what?” It was a stupid question. He knew exactly what she meant.
“Pretend that everything’s fine, that you’re not bothered about your dad and...you know, the rest of it.”
Such a polite way to phrase his dilemma: the rest of it. The rest of it being the potential end of life as he knew it. He tried to shake off such a melancholy outlook, for Rory’s sake.
“Let’s not talk about it,” he suggested, as he did every time she tried to bring it up.
She let out a quick breath, and he recognized the determination that came over her expression. She wasn’t about to let it go this time.
“Sawyer, I don’t think we can not talk about it anymore.”
He shook his head, rather forcefully. “Sure, we can. We’ll just pretend that everything is the same as it was before.”
She frowned. “But it’s not. And there’s a chance it never will be. You can’t ignore that forever.”
“Maybe I can.” Maybe he could avoid it right up until the moment he lost his mind. Then it wouldn’t matter anymore.
But the look of disappointment she wore humbled him. She was trying, and he loved her for it. But he just couldn’t think about it, couldn’t talk about it.
“I spoke to my manager today,” he said, trying to get her to change the subject. “She’s working on scheduling me some studio time. I told her... I was thinking...maybe you’d want to perform some backup vocals for me. Maybe even play some guitar.”
He was pleased when she blinked several times. “Really?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed a rise of guilt. “It’s what I should have demanded in the first place. We’re partners. I shouldn’t be making music without input from you.”
Tears filled her eyes, and he felt even worse. Why hadn’t he done this already?
“I would love that,” she said. “Thank you.”
He leaned forward, across the tabletop, and planted a quick kiss on her lips. “You are more than welcome.”
They sat for a few minutes longer, and he just enjoyed having her near him.
Until she spoke up again.
“We still need to talk about the possibility of you having Alzheimer’s,” she stated.
Her persistence nipped at his patience. “Keep your voice down,” he said, with a touch of irritation. “Do you know what could happen if someone overheard?” He gave a quick look around. They were on their own at the moment, secluded in an unused portion of Callahan’s outdoor dining area. But he was still uncomfortable with Rory voicing this thought aloud. Perhaps more so because speaking it reminded him it was true, rather than any real fear of someone overhearing.
Rory looked none too pleased at his admonition. “Sawyer, I understand the need for discretion, and if you want to talk about this somewhere more private, I am more than happy to do so. But we are going to talk about it.”
There it was again. Her Irish bullheadedness.
“No,” he declared. “We’re not.”
Annoyed, he pushed back from the table and stood up.
“Maybe you should get tested.”
He scowled, wishing she’d let it rest.
“Why? So that I can see the end coming all the more quickly?”
She stood, though she was several inches shorter than him and had to look up to meet his eyes. “You don’t even know if you have any of those mutated genes. What if you’re worrying for nothing?”
“And what if I’m not?” he countered. “What will I do if I know for certain? My life will become a nightmare. Every time I enter a room and forget why I went in there, I’ll think it’s starting. When I try to find the right word and can’t, I would have a panic attack. If I know it’s bound to happen, then every innocent slipup, every moment I blank on something, I’ll think it’s the beginning of the end. How can I live like that?”
“Would it be any worse than how you’re living now? It’s eating you up inside.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” he muttered, turning away.
“How can I, when you won’t open up to me about it?”
The ache in her voice caused him to turn back. He saw then how wounded she was by the wall he’d built around this topic.
“Rory,” he murmured, coming back to the table. He moved around it to gather her into his arms. “Rory, I’m sorry.”
She leaned into him, her arms coming around his waist. Her touch made him want to weep. What sort of life was he asking her to live, sticking around for someone who might not even remember her name in another ten years?
“I know you mean well,” he said into her hair, breathing in the gentle fragrance of her shampoo. “But I just don’t know how to talk about this. I feel like no one could possibly understand how it feels.”
She pulled back enough to look up into his face. “Then help me understand.”
He traced the back of his knuckles over her jaw. Sweet, steadfast Rory. She was making a real effort. Maybe he owed it to her to try a little harder.
But how? He didn’t know how to tell her what he was feeling, at least not without scaring her. It was as if he was living in two worlds. In the one, not much had changed. He still had a future full of possibility with Rory by his side. He was going to keep making music, marry Rory, start a family, take care
of his parents. He’d be there for his dad no matter what happened, and then, when the worst came, he’d make sure his mom was looked after. Give her grandkids to ease her grief. If he had to lose his father, the world owed him that much, didn’t it? The chance to live his own life.
The other world, however, was a living nightmare. He would lose his father. Then himself. He might lose Chase. Everything he’d worked for would be forgotten. And then, he’d lose Rory.
And that was the worst of it. How could he tell her that his greatest fear was leaving her alone again? Leaving her in a much worse state than he had before. No, he couldn’t explain it to her.
No matter how much she pleaded.
She must have recognized she was getting nowhere because she sniffed and then pulled in a deep breath.
“If you won’t talk to me then I think you should try talking to other people who are going through the same thing.”
“Now you sound like Chase.”
“I don’t think that’s a bad thing. Chase is a pretty smart kid.”
He couldn’t deny it. “He’s been trying to convince me to attend a support group with him.”
“That sounds like a great idea, actually.”
Sawyer wasn’t sure he agreed. “I don’t know, I think the entire experience would be too depressing. I’m not sure I want to hear all the struggles these other people are going through.”
Rory spoke gently, but the words still cut. “Not even when they’re the same struggles you’re facing?”
He winced before he could school his expression. She tightened her grip around his waist.
“What could it hurt? You can go and see what other people have to say. Maybe it will help you find a way to cope, or give you some insight on whether you should have the DNA test.”
He hesitated. He still wasn’t sure it was a good idea. He knew it didn’t make sense, but he had some weird logic that by ignoring the disease, it would ignore him, too. It was almost as if he was hiding from it. Visiting a support group would announce his presence, and what if the disease came looking for him then? It was a childish superstition, but Sawyer was having a hard time shaking it.
“Sawyer,” she said, waiting until he really looked at her before continuing. “You know you’re not alone in this, right? I’m here. And your family has each other. Maybe, if you see how other people have coped, it will remind you that you can, too.”
Though Rory’s words held a degree of logic, he didn’t know if he believed them. He couldn’t imagine ever coming to terms with all of this—letting it become a part of his daily life and routine.
But he knew he couldn’t escape the determination in Rory’s eyes. If she and Chase joined forces on the idea of attending a support group, he might as well just give in and agree to go. There’d be no dissuading them. And if it was something that would ease a bit of the strain that had arisen between him and Rory, he’d do it.
He released a breath and knew she recognized his defeat by the way her eyes lit up.
“Fine. If you want me to try a support group then I’ll try one. Just don’t expect any miracles, Rory.”
Since she stood almost a foot shorter than him, she tilted her head back to kiss the tip of his chin.
“Having you back is my miracle,” she stated.
And he was reminded that she was so much better than what he deserved.
CHAPTER TWELVE
RORY AND CHASE chose the support group together. They managed to find one forty-five minutes away in Towson that advertised several members with EOA as well as the more common form of Alzheimer’s. The group met on the third Saturday of every month, so they were lucky enough to be able to attend a meeting that weekend.
Sawyer considered insisting that Rory stay behind, but he knew he’d never make it through the entire meeting if she wasn’t with him. So he didn’t put up much of a fuss when she got someone to cover her shift at the restaurant in order to go with them.
They arrived in Towson in plenty of time and found the meeting place without trouble. The group met in a large room at a local community center. The minute Sawyer walked in the door, his nose wrinkled at the antiseptic smell of bleach and cleaning products. The floor was covered with rough, industrial carpeting in an indistinguishable shade of gray-green. Construction paper artwork covered the walls, a riot of color against the bland beige paint. There was a table off to the side, loaded with a platter of cookies, a basket of croissants and a coffee urn. There was no other table in the room, just a large circle of a dozen or more chairs. Sawyer felt uncomfortable at the sight of it. It put him in mind of group therapy, where everyone shared their “feelings.” Of course, maybe that’s exactly what this was.
He stopped short of the circle as Rory and Chase took another step forward. There were a handful of people already gathered, along with a petite, silver-haired lady at the center. She took note of their arrival and moved to greet them.
“You must be Rory,” she said, extending a hand, which Rory took in her own. “I’m Joan, we spoke on the phone. We’re so happy you’ve decided to join us today.” She directed her attention at Chase, who moved toward her, arm extended to accept her handshake and introduce himself. Then it was Joan’s turn to focus on Sawyer. He shifted uncomfortably, still standing a step behind Chase and Rory. As she looked at him, he waited for recognition to dawn. It was what he’d been dreading the most—having people realize who he was. But Joan either possessed a consummate poker face or she had no idea of Sawyer’s celebrity status. She simply stood, smiling at him with an open and welcoming expression, and waited for him to speak.
“I’m Sawyer,” he finally said, and nodded in her direction. He didn’t offer her his hand as the others had.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sawyer,” she said. “Rory tells me you and your brother have a relative who was recently diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s.”
“Yes,” Chase said. “Our dad.”
Joan’s face fell. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. First learning about the diagnosis can be one of the most difficult parts of the disease. What made you decide to seek out our support group?”
Sawyer tuned out Chase and Rory as they elaborated on their reasons for being here. It didn’t really matter to Sawyer what they said. He’d come here as a favor to Rory, nothing more. He didn’t expect to get much out of it.
Joan shared a few details about the group, how they’d formed and how long they’d been meeting. She gave a quick overview of some of the members and their situations with the disease. A lot of them were caretakers for older parents, although she mentioned a few who were Alzheimer’s patients themselves. She also confirmed that they had two other members who had loved ones diagnosed with EOA.
As Joan spoke, he scanned the rest of the group briefly. Most of the people in the circle were in conversations amongst themselves. There was one guy, however, who was staring at Sawyer pretty hard. He knew he’d been recognized. The thought made him wince. The last thing he wanted was an autograph session in the middle of this thing.
“Sawyer?” He turned to Rory, realizing the conversation had gone on without him.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
Rory didn’t seem put out that his attention had wandered. “Joan was explaining how the meetings work.”
“We’re a pretty informal group,” Joan said. “We open by introducing any new members, and then we go around the room, taking turns and sharing our hardest struggle in the last month as well as our greatest joy.”
“Sounds simple enough,” Chase said.
Joan nodded. “It’s a beneficial format for us. It gives us the opportunity to share what we’ve learned, be honest about the challenges of Alzheimer’s, and find the good in the day-to-day.”
“You can find good in it?” Sawyer asked, knowing his tone oozed skepticism.
“Oh, yes,” Joan said. “Those in our group who have been diagnosed with the disease have a saying—‘I’ve got Alzheimer’s, but Alzheimer’s doesn’t have me.’ We use that as a reminder that the disease is a part of us, but it doesn’t define who we are. We are still fighting.”
Sawyer thought it was a stirring sentiment. He just wasn’t sure how realistic it was.
“You are more than welcome to speak up, ask questions, or share with the group, but it’s not required. First-time visitors are often overwhelmed, having only recently learned that they or a loved one has been diagnosed with the disease. So it’s perfectly fine to just observe.”
This put Sawyer at ease. It was enough that he’d come; he didn’t feel like sharing his feelings with a bunch of strangers.
Joan’s attention shifted, and when they followed the direction of her gaze, he noticed a couple more people entering the room.
“Why don’t you go ahead and have a seat? There are refreshments over there.” She pointed to the table with the cookies and other items. “And feel free to mingle. We’re a pretty friendly bunch.”
They all murmured their thanks, and then awkwardly found seats in the circle. Sawyer noticed the guy who’d been eyeing him tapping on his cell phone. He didn’t seem interested in Sawyer’s presence anymore, which allowed Sawyer to breathe a little easier.
Several of the group members came over to introduce themselves, and they spent the next few minutes exchanging polite conversation. A younger woman studied him carefully, then said, “You look so familiar. I feel like I know you.”
He smiled but didn’t give her any encouragement. “I have one of those faces.”
She shrugged, seemingly content to let it go. He was grateful for such a small group. The more attendees, the greater chance he’d be recognized. While it had become a standard part of his life, he didn’t much feel like being Sawyer Landry the Country Music Star today.
A Song for Rory Page 14
