Chapter 5: The Visit Nobody Planned For
I called Patricia the next morning.
She was cautious at first — there were protocols, she said, around introducing new people to patients with Dana's level of cognitive instability.
An unfamiliar face could cause distress.
Timing mattered.
Preparation mattered.
"What if Richard brought her?" I asked.
"What if he introduced her himself, so Dana already had an anchor in the room?"
A pause.
"Has he agreed to this?"
"Not yet."
Another pause.
"Have him call me directly if he's willing.
We'd need to prepare Dana over a few visits first.
Talk about the idea before the reality.
But if he's committed to it—" She stopped.
"It could actually be good for her.
The doctors have been encouraging him to expand her social circle.
Isolation isn't helping her recovery."
I thanked her and hung up.
Then I called Richard.
He picked up on the second ring.
"She wants to meet Dana," I said.
Silence.
"Your mother wants—"
"Yes."
He didn't speak for a long moment.
"I don't know if that's a good idea."
"She didn't ask for your opinion on whether it was a good idea.
She told me what she wanted.
I'm passing it along."
"Dana has difficult days.
She can be confused.
She sometimes says things that don't—"
"Richard." I kept my voice level.
"My mother is seventy-two years old.
She nursed my father through four years of illness before he d*ed.
She knows what a difficult day looks like.
She's not going to be frightened off by one."
He was quiet again.
"She really wants to come?"
"She asked me this morning what she should bring.
I told her I didn't know yet.
She's been thinking about it for the last hour."
A long exhale on his end.
"Let me talk to Patricia," he said finally.
"And let me talk to Dana first.
In my own way.
At my own pace."
"That's fair."
"It might take a few weeks."
"Mom's not going anywhere."
He said he'd call me by the end of the week.
He did — three days later, on a Wednesday evening, while I was washing dishes.
"Patricia thinks we can try a short visit in about ten days," he said.
"She wants to prepare Dana gradually.
She'll mention Eleanor by name a few times before we go.
Make her familiar before she's present."
"Okay."
"I want to be honest with you about something," he said.
I turned off the tap.
"Dana has a good memory for feelings even when she loses the facts.
She might not remember your mother's name five minutes after she leaves.
But she'll remember whether she felt safe.
Whether the person was kind." He paused.
"I think she will be.
Your mother, I mean.
I think Dana will feel that."
I didn't say anything for a moment.
"Richard.
Can I ask you something?"
"Yes."
"The text last night.
Patricia said Dana saw Chloe in the lobby.
She said Dana saw her face." I set the dish towel down.
"What exactly did Dana say when she saw her?"
He was quiet.
"She said, 'Who is that girl?
She has kind eyes.'"
I stood at the kitchen sink for a moment after we hung up.
Chloe was at the table doing homework.
She looked up.
"What did he say?"
I told her.
She looked back down at her notebook.
Her pen had stopped moving.
"Can I come too?" she asked.
"When Grandma goes to meet her?"
"I'll ask."
Chloe nodded.
She didn't say anything else.
But she didn't start writing again either.
That night, Mom called me before bed.
"I've been thinking about what to bring her," she said.
"And?"
"I'm going to bake something.
Nothing too sweet.
Something she can have with tea." A pause.
"Do you think they allow that?"
"I'll find out."
"Also—" Mom hesitated.
"Do you think she'll like me?"
The question landed softly.
It wasn't the question of someone worried about being judged.
It was the question of someone who genuinely wanted to be liked by this particular person, for reasons that had nothing to do with Richard.
"I think," I said carefully, "that she has good instincts about people.
Even now."
Mom was quiet for a moment.
"Good," she said.
"Then I just have to be myself."
She said goodnight and hung up.
I sat with the phone in my hand a little longer than I needed to.
Something was shifting.
I could feel it but I couldn't name it yet.
And then my phone lit up again.
A text from an unknown number — different from Patricia's.
*You don't know the whole story about Dana.
There are things Richard hasn't told anyone.
May you like
Meet me tomorrow.
I'll explain.*
