Vessel

14

CHICAGO WAS OPPRESSIVELY muggy when Julie drove Catherine, Aimee, and David to Nora’s hospice facility. “It’s not a bad place,” Julie was saying. “It’s about as homelike as you could expect, and they have a lot of experience with Alzheimer’s patients.”

From the passenger seat, Catherine gave Julie a careful smile. “I know you made the best decision. Thank you. For everything you’ve done to take care of her.” She left I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help unspoken. Most of her life since coming home seemed to involve that phrase.

“I’m just glad you could make it. I know you’ve got a launch coming up soon.” Julie smiled faintly. “And I know this is going to be hard for you. Mom made a lot of noise about not wanting anyone to see her this way. Me included. She said I should just find her a home and leave her there.”

“I can imagine how well that went over,” Catherine said with a dry laugh. Stubbornness was a family trait, and all three of them had it in spades.

“Well, I won that one.”

David and Aimee stayed silent in the back seat. They’d seen Nora at Christmas, and had a better idea of what awaited them than Catherine did.

As they pulled off the expressway, Catherine asked, “Is she lucid at all?”

“Hard to say. Some days yes, most days no. There’s never any way to tell.” Julie maneuvered through the surface streets. “We’re early enough in the day that the chances are better, but… I don’t know. Last time I was there, she didn’t know me the whole time. So… just be ready for that, okay?”

Catherine nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. No, she has to know me. I need for her to know me.

“The staff has tried to keep reminding her that you’re coming, and when I told her you were back, she seemed to get it, but I just don’t know.”

Eventually they reached the suburbs, and Julie pulled up in front of a long white building with neoclassical architecture and a vast expanse of rolling green lawn. Everything about the place emanated an aura of calm. When they climbed out, Catherine could smell nothing but freshly cut grass and warm parking-lot asphalt—no other trace of the city they’d just left behind.

Once inside, though, there was the unmistakable hospital scent of disinfectant and floor cleaner, but it was fainter than Catherine had feared. There were fresh flowers everywhere, and it was quiet. The staff knew Julie and greeted her, and a few of them recognized Catherine as well.

David took Catherine’s hand as they got closer to Nora’s room and she gave him a grateful smile.

The door stood ajar, and Julie rapped on it. “Mom? It’s Julie. I’ve brought you some visitors, is that all right?”

A querulous voice that Catherine didn’t recognize came from the room. “Julie? Come in, come in!”

As much as she’d tried to prepare, Catherine wasn’t ready for what greeted her. The room itself was reasonably homey despite the hospital bed that dominated the center of it. There were armchairs and a coffee table arranged in a small sitting area, and plants everywhere. The chairs were from her mother’s old house.

The woman in the bed bore a passing resemblance to the mother Catherine remembered. When she’d last seen Nora, Nora had been a vibrant, quick-witted sixty-three-year-old with straight dark hair like Catherine’s. The woman in the bed looked as if some cruel magician had shrunk Nora and turned her hair dull gray with a malevolent spell. She was impossibly thin, as if she’d break under the weight of her own body should she stand up.

Worse, the bright, sharp eyes that Catherine remembered were clouded and vague. There was no spark left in her mother’s face.

“Mom, look who’s here. It’s Catherine. Remember we told you she came back from her mission.”

Nora pushed herself to an upright position with a shaking motion that made Catherine ache, and peered at her. “Catherine. I had a daughter named Catherine.”

“This is her, Mom. This is your Catherine. Look, she brought David and Aimee with her.”

“Hi, Grandma.” Aimee had no qualms about approaching Nora, leaning over, and kissing her cheek. Nora smiled up at her and patted her arm. David greeted her as well, and it broke Catherine’s heart to see how accustomed they seemed to this.

Nora looked closer at Catherine and beckoned her forward. “You look like my Catherine.” She reached out and gave Catherine a pat, then leaned back in her bed. “My Catherine died in space, you know. On another planet.”

Julie and Catherine exchanged glances. Julie looked apologetic; Catherine gave her a resigned shrug, her hope fading.

“How are you feeling today?” Catherine wasn’t sure if she should call her “Mom” or “Nora,” so wound up calling her nothing.

Nora plucked at the bedding at her side before answering. “I’m going to get up later today. The nurses wouldn’t let me this morning.”

Julie sat in the chair nearest the bed, and Catherine and David sat near the window, Aimee between them. Catherine put her arm around Aimee’s waist, and Aimee leaned against her shoulder.

“Mom,” Julie said, “they just don’t want you to get hurt. You fell last week, remember?”

“Eh.” Nora dismissed it with a wave of her hand then turned to Catherine. “How do you know my Julie?”

Catherine looked to Julie for help. Should she remind her mother who she was?

“Mom, that’s Catherine. Your Catherine. See? That’s her husband, David, and your granddaughter, Aimee, next to her.” Julie’s voice was calm, practiced, used to explaining things. Catherine felt a stab of guilt—again—that Julie was the one who’d developed that skill. Everyone seemed to be playing a familiar role here except her.

“It’s me, Mom.” Catherine stood and walked over to the bed. “I’m here. I came back.” She watched Nora’s face, hoping for any sign of recognition at all.

There. There was a flicker—wasn’t there? Nora reached out a hand to her and Catherine took it. “Cath? But you died.” Her eyes cut to Julie, pleading.

“It’s really her, Mom.”

“Why did they tell me you died?” Nora started crying and Catherine bent to hug her. As fragile as Nora looked, she felt even more so, as if she might crumble to dust in Catherine’s arms. She was fever-warm and smelled like baby shampoo. Her body was all sharp edges and angles, but she had a strong grip. “How did you come back? Catherine… my baby girl.”

Catherine felt the sob rising in her throat. She was afraid of frightening her mother, so she tried to swallow it. “It was all a mistake. I didn’t die. I was just lost for a little while.” She couldn’t stop the tears, so she let them fall unchecked. Nora finally let her go, but held on to her hand, so Catherine sat on the edge of the bed.

Nora fell silent, just looking at Catherine and smiling while tears trickled down her cheeks. Odd that this was the first chance she had to see someone react to the news that she’d survived. She glanced at David, wondering how he had reacted when he’d heard. Had he cried? Had Aimee?

“I remember when Catherine was a little girl she wanted everything with airplanes on it. Books, pillows, clothes, if it had an airplane on it, she wanted it.”

Catherine smiled at the memory. “Dad hated it. Said everybody thought I was a little boy.”

“He was proud anyway.” Nora’s eyes went misty and distant. She wasn’t talking to Catherine. It was as if Catherine had disappeared. “He loved that girl. She’s smart, you know. She’s the smartest little girl in her class. Just the other day she brought home her idea for her science project, and she had to explain it to me.” Nora smiled. “Still not sure I understand it.”

Catherine and Julie exchanged glances again. “How old is she, Mom?” Julie asked.

“She’ll be eleven in a few months. Julie, my oldest, she’s fourteen now. They’re getting so big.” She looked up at Catherine. “Do you have any children?”

Julie nodded at her, so Catherine answered. “One, my daughter Aimee, by the window there. She just graduated from high school.”

“Ah, that’s a good age.” She patted Catherine’s hand again. “She going to college?”

“Yes. She’s going to MIT,” Catherine managed.

David came up behind Catherine and put a hand on her shoulder. “We’re very proud of her.”

“MIT! Another smart one.” Nora chuckled. She fell quiet for a few minutes, and no one spoke. Catherine looked around the room. There was artwork she recognized from her mother’s house, but the most prominent item was a large whiteboard with the date and names of the nurses on duty.

Nora touched her arm and Catherine turned back to her. “You know, you look just like my daughter Catherine.”

Despair clutched at Catherine’s chest and she started to answer, but Julie shook her head. “I do?” was all she managed to say.

“Just like her. She was an astronaut, my Catherine was.” Nora reached out for Julie, who came over as well. “If it wasn’t for Julie, I’d be all alone. My granddaughter and son-in-law live so far away… and I miss my baby girl.”

Catherine fought to keep a smile on her face as David’s hands tightened on her shoulder.

“I’m going to get up later today,” Nora went on, oblivious. “The nurses promised.”

“Mom?” Julie indicated Catherine. “Who do you think this is?”

Nora peered up at Catherine. “That’s your friend that came to visit me. She looks a lot like Catherine, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah… she does.” Julie leaned down and kissed Nora’s cheek. “We should go, and let you rest.”

“I have to rest up,” Nora agreed. “I’m going to get to go home soon.”

It was too much. Catherine squeezed her mother’s hand and stood up, ready to flee. “It was good to see you,” she managed to say.

“It was nice meeting you,” her mother said, and Catherine hurried out of the room. David was right behind her, saying something comforting that didn’t actually provide any comfort. A moment later, Julie followed. She took one look at Catherine and the two sisters fell into an embrace in the middle of the hallway. Catherine hated crying, hated it worse than anything, but the sobs tore out of her, quiet but intense.

“I know, kiddo, I’m sorry,” Julie murmured. “Come on, there’s a chapel down the hall; it’ll be quieter there.”

The four of them made it into the chapel, but by then the worst of the storm had passed. Catherine wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. Sorry. She’s just so different.” Seeing her mother was a glimpse into how much worse things might have been for her. For all Catherine’s missing memories, she remembered the important things: who she was, who her family was. The three people around her were still hers, were still the most important people in her life.

“I don’t know if it’s worse to have seen it happen gradually or to see it all at once,” David said, rubbing her back as they settled into one of the pews in the small room.

“The first time Grandma didn’t know who I was, I think I cried for two days.” Aimee offered both women a pack of tissues she’d pulled from her purse, after taking one for herself.

Julie took the tissues and gave Catherine one, wiping away a few tears of her own.

“Does she know?” Catherine asked. “Does she ever understand what’s happened to her?”

“Not anymore,” Julie said. “It was hard when she started getting bad. You’d see moments where she realized what was happening, and she’d get so frustrated and scared. Now… she’s in her own little world most of the time.”

A world where Catherine was dead. And maybe it was better that way for her. She’d grieved and moved on. A world without Catherine was a more settled world. Not just for Nora. Coming back the way she had had turned all her relationships messy and painful and fraught.

“I’m still glad I got to see her.” Catherine steadied her breathing and kept it from hitching. “I think I needed to. Do the doctors— what do they say?”

Julie shook her head. “They can’t give a firm time frame, but she’s withdrawing. She’ll keep getting quieter and more still, they say. A few months, maybe less.” She sighed. “I didn’t want you to miss out on what might be some of the last days that she’s talkative.”

“Thank you,” Catherine said. It was heartfelt, and she hugged Julie tight. “And she knew me for a minute or so at least. Maybe part of her will still remember that.”

The sisters held on to each other for a long time, until Catherine had her composure back.

“Come on,” Julie said. “Let’s get home.”