I could feel the sunlight trying to penetrate my closed eyelids. I must have overslept. The bed felt like a cocoon, wrapping its warm sheets around me, burying me in fuzzy darkness.
The room I was in looked cold and impersonal with its white walls and lush furniture. There were machines all around. A screen with numbers running across it, a line jolting up and down and that beeping, the sound that just wouldn't stop.
I tried to get up, but my limbs wouldn't obey me, so I just sagged back into bed. My brain was sluggish and slow. My groggy mind noticed something strange. How the sheets felt thin and stiff, not like my sheets at all. How my body ached when I made even the slightest move. How my throat felt dry as a desert.
"He's awake!" Mikael's voice echoed in my head.
A man entered the room with hurried steps, striding straight towards me. He had a clipboard in one hand and a concerned, yet hopeful look on his face.
"Water, please." I managed to croak out through a sore throat, my voice sounding twisted and cracked. Agata who was standing beside me burst into tears. The man in the white coat nodded and poured me a glass of water from the sink behind him.
"Welcome back, Ivo. You've been in a coma for six weeks."
I thought I was in the recovery room after the surgery. I thought the procedure had gone fine and I'd just woken up, but no, I just lost six weeks.
I gradually became more and more aware of what was going on around me. My memory of things that happened shortly after I woke up is a little jumbled with things that I imagined happening as well.
When I would wake up in my head, I could feel Brandy holding my hand. I tried as hard as I could to squeeze her hand and I could feel it doing absolutely nothing. When she let go to walk away, I was completely devastated. I called for her to stay, but obviously, nothing happened. I attempted to move, I struggled to speak, I strived to scream but I couldn't.
I was brought out of the coma. I was finally awoken from the darkness that enveloped my mind. Memories from before the accident would come in flashes: flowers, Brandy in a wedding dress with her loving eyes, and pain. Pain was always the last memory before the darkness returned. It should have been that day, the moment of truth, but the accident got in the way.
The next day, some doctors came in and asked me several questions. They asked me if I knew where I was, and I tried to say yes. They asked if I remembered why I was here and again I nodded. I remember periods of nothing, peppered with little snippets. Trying to communicate with them while intubated and drugged was very difficult.
From there I remained conscious but sedated, and have rather intact memories from that point on. Slowly, muscle movement came back to me. A week passed and I was up and moving on my own with the help of a walker. I still felt dizzy occasionally, my children helped me out the best they could and was always by my side to give me support.
Two agonizing weeks flew by yet I was still confined.
I asked my son Mikael to get the journals from my office. I wrote my last journal entry and recorded everything I could remember. No better way revealing to them what their mother and I went through by means of reading our journals.
I had to let them know the truth.
"I want you to both read these."
Mikael gazed over at me skeptically for a brief moment. He raised a brow. "What are those for?"
"You'll find out," I said as I handed over Brandy's journals to Agata. "I want you to start with the pink one."
Agata took the journals with clear uncertainty written on her face. She began flipping through the pages. "Whose journals are these, Dad?" she asked while doing so.
"They belong to someone who played the biggest and the most important part in our lives."
"Our lives..." Agata muttered while scanning through the pages. She drew in a deep breath, "Okay, I'm gonna start with this pink one Mik and you'll read the others, okay?"
"Cool," Mikael agreed.
Agata started reading Brandy's journal.
Dear Journal,
It was the most hideous dress I had ever seen. Vivid shades of red, yellow and blue mimicked Snow White's dress in the animated film. When I tried it on, I was not surprised to see that I resembled to a freaking character having a corset-style lace-up front. All that were missing were red shoes and knee-high socks.......
******
--Brandy's Perpective--
No one past the age of six should wear a dress like this. It's fine for a six-year old girl in some kind of play or a Halloween costume party, but not for a twenty three-year old maid of honor for her brother's wedding. I scanned the dress and think of innocence, beauty, and sweetness. It was all wrong for me.
My brother, Heineken peeked into my room and walked in wearing the most annoying smile ever. "You look good, Brandy. Are you excited for Carl's wedding?" he teased and ruffled my hair.
Ken is seven years older than I am and he believes that the age gap allows him to treat me like a kid. He was married once, for about two weeks. He married long enough to legally be the father of the product of a drunken one-night stand. The mother promptly rode off into a life of heroin and prostitution. Bitch!
However, Scotch, my four-year old nephew, is the most amazing thing in my life. So amazing that I can look past the days of crapped up diapers and green pea mush vomit, and see his adorable face in the middle of a delighted gurgle. Speaking of baby vomit, I eyed the Snow White inspired dress once more, and slumped in an armchair. Maybe I'd "accidentally" set it on fire during the dress rehearsal.
Carlsberg peeped in and grinned, "How's it going, Brandy? I actually didn't have to order it made. Apparently, some other brides tend to be afraid of being out-prettied at their own weddings. This means that there are a few more such dresses in the wedding boutique, stored in case there's any kind of accident with this one."
"Why, Carl why," I groaned. "This is overkill! This is for ugly brides with hot friends. Can your Italian bride not think of a better theme?"
"I find it cute and amusing. Why not? Well, it's actually because Ken doesn't want you hooking up with Mia's cousin's sister-in-law's best friend's brother or something, and neither do I. The dress is perfect for hiding all your curves and killing all your momentary self-confidence making you conveniently unlovable by passersby."
"What? What are you talking about?" I sputtered.
Ken dangled a little pink notebook in front of my face.
"That's my journal! You sneak, you freaks!" I gasped and grabbed for it. "How did you find it? I hid it so well," I pouted.
Carl sighed, "You know how much she loves fairy tales. Brandy, this is going to be my wedding. Can you not just be happy for me and bear with that dress for about two hours or even less?" He threw the journal back at me. He smiled. I smirked. We linked arms and laughed. No matter how ugly the dress was, I love my brother. "I have a date with a certain Italian girl that I think is engaged to me. I expect you to be wearing the dress on big day."
"Wait, have you visited Dad's grave yet?" I asked.
"Yeah, of course. I asked for his blessing," Carl said.
"H-how about Mom? Did you pay her a visit?"
"No."
"Why not?" I raised my brows at him. "At least just let her know, or ask for her blessing as well."
"Brandy, there's no use. She won't even understand. She can't even recognize me."
"She's still our mother."
"Nothing could change that, Brands," Carl said in a low voice. He walked towards me and squeezed my shoulders." Even after seven years I could still hear Dad crying for help in my sleep."
My mom accidentally killed Dad. She didn't recognize the man she was sleeping with. Mom slipped back to the grip of her disease and thought that she was being raped by Dad.
There must be a criminally culpable state of mind that accompanied her act, but since she was suffering from Alzheimer's disease; a murder was easily defended. As a result she was turned over to the Lady Guineverre Center for Alzheimer's. In many ways, the woman I have cherished all my life was gone.
"Sorry," I muttered.
Ken spoke from behind. "Brands, mom's disease has worsened. She's now starting to be uncommunicative and soon she'll stop talking."
"Yeah, last time I checked. Her doctor said her Alzheimer's is now on its last stage."
"Cheer up, Brands! Do not ruin my day okay!" Carl said.
"Off you go! I need to practice my Italian accent."
As Carl left, he added, "If it's any consolation, I had to have them make it uglier, just because you're too cute."
After he left, I stared at myself in the mirror. Ugh!
Friday is Carl's wedding and Monday is our flight to Verona. It was the only thing that was keeping my dress from being accidentally torn to shreds.
After spending almost the entire morning of preparing and packing things for our trip, I went to visit Mom.
I brought with me a photo of Carl's graduation day. I had icing all over my hair because my brothers started a cake fight. Mom was next to me, with the happiest smile on her face. We were all hugging her and putting icing on her face. The picture made it look like everything was okay.
I smiled at the memory of that day and bit my lip to stop myself from crying.
I walked inside the center and down one of the hallways.
"Hi Brandy! It's good to see you here again," greeted Jessica, one of the caregivers.
I visit my mom frequently, so often that she actually thinks I work at the center and prefers me over anyone else. Sometimes she even calls me her mom. It is never easy to become the parent of your parent.
She resents some of the staff when they help her with her toilet and bathe her. She has always been uptight about getting undressed and frankly some of them perform their functions robotically, seem to think that Alzheimer patients are out there, and do not pay attention. I think, even in her condition, my mom recognizes stinky attitude and she resents how some treat her for making their jobs difficult.
Every time I go to see her she wants me to take her home, and it would break my heart. I did a lot of crying and sometimes I couldn't control myself and would cry right in front of her. I wish I were stronger.
There are days when Mom would be lucid. She'd have these inexplicable moments of clarity when she would come out of her walled-off state.
"Hi Jess, nice to see you too!" I greeted her cheerfully. "Where is she?"
"She's in the garden."
I found her staring blankly at nothing.
I walked towards her and when she saw me, her eyes glistened. "Mommy, where have you been?" Mom asked.
"I went to see my brothers. We are now preparing for a flight to Verona tomorrow. Friday is Carl's wedding. I hope you could come and meet his bride."
She didn't seem to understand anything that I said. Then she blurted out, "Have you seen my daughter Brandy? I haven't seen her all summer. I wanted to talk to her."
I bit my lip and knelt down in front of her. I tried hard to blink away my tears and put up a fake smile. I held her hand and showed her the picture.
"I remember this picture. This is my only daughter Brandy and my son Carl, Ken, and Gin. Their names are funny, isn't it? My husband gave them their names because he is a bartender in a local bar in our small town in Phoenix," she recollected. "We took this picture together celebrating Carl's graduation in high school. Oh they are putting icing all over my face," she continued while laughing in between.
"You look so happy in that picture."
"I was," she replied then she hugged me. "Mom, tell my daughter I love her," she whispered over my shoulder.
"Yes, of course."
Nurse Jess came and announced that it's about time for the residents to go to lunch so I got up and nodded at her. I looked at my mom again and I felt tears streaming down my cheeks. She didn't seem to know what's going on around her.
"I'll see you in two weeks, okay?"
She nodded.
I hugged her goodbye, as was my habit. As I did so, I said, "I love you, Mom."
To my astonishment, my mom said with great clarity, "I love you, too, Brandy." Then, she slipped back into the grip of her disease.
I couldn't help it, I started sobbing loudly.
After my visit to the center, I drove back to my apartment. Before flying to Verona the next day, I needed to submit six articles to Chief, my editor. He'd have my head on a plate if I didn't.
I am an advice columnist for The Boston Daily. I go by my pen name Juliet, who, on paper, is the most hopeless romantic girl ever.
Not me. After what happened to my mother, I became paranoid. Alzheimer's disease runs through my blood. Every generation has their representative, mostly women and I'm the only girl in the family. I became afraid...afraid that I would be next.
I switched my laptop on and started writing another column for my article. I replied to one of the letters one of my avid followers sent me. The letter said:
Dear Juliet,
I've been dating a guy for about 6 months and it had been going great until about two weeks ago when I accepted a job offer and moved to another state. I couldn't be more happier living the life that I've always wanted and a wonderful career. He has been supportive for the most part, but for two things. First, is that we barely see each other due to his work schedule but we've made it work somehow. Now, however, I don't know when I'll see him. I'm not sure how to approach the situation.The other thing that is bothering me is that he never tells me he loves me.I don't feel that I should have to ask him to say the words. I love him, but I don't want to be attached to someone with whom I never get to spend time and never get to hear to those words. I really don't know what I should do and any advice would be helpful.
Thank you in advance,
Ms. Neglected
Dear Ms. Neglected,
You say that the relationship was going great until two weeks ago, which means that the employment and long distance situation has skewed your relationship. I'm sure that everything feels out of control right now.
My advice is to focus on getting yourself where you want to be so that you can make decisions about your relationship with more confidence. I encourage you to initiate some kind of frank, authentic conversation with this guy.
As for the "I love you" stuff, it's a personal thing. Some people have to hear those three words, some people don't. It's something to think about, for sure, with all that's going on, ask yourself, "Can I be happy in this relationship?" If no, then it's time to go. Right now, your future is the most important thing.
I'd just focus on what comes next for both of you - your career and his schedule.
Sincerely,
Juliet
______________
A/N: What do you think about this chapter dear readers? When I wrote this story I was like having movie moments. The scenes play out like a movie in my head. By the time Agata read Brandy's journal entry, the camera rolled and took me back to where the story started.
I hope the entire scene played seamlessly to all of you. I would love to hear your comments! Thanks!