He took one hundred dollars from his top dresser drawer just before his sister picked him up on that cold February Sunday. The trees were dipped in silver, a strong affirmation that winter was not quite finished. He walked slowly into the Caribou Rite Aid, careful to avoid patches of ice concealed by the newly fallen snow. He made his purchases and once he was safely seated back in the car, he asked to go to Shop ‘n Save. His sister nodded and then asked, “Is the next stop the nursing home?” “Yes,” he said. “I plan on staying most of the day and I’ll call you when I am ready to go home.”
He reached across the car seat and placed his hand upon his sister’s shoulder, squeezing gently in a gesture of appreciation. On the day the ophthalmologist told him he had macular degeneration, he surrendered not only his car keys, but also a large slice of independence.
She was sleeping when he entered the room. Her bed was next to the window, and he placed the flower arrangement on the window sill, along with the satin heart-shaped box of Russell Stovers; her favorite. He lowered himself into the chair beside her and reached out to touch her hair, marveling at the softness of the pure white curls that fell to her shoulders. She opened her eyes then and gave him that polite smile; a smile reserved for strangers. For the past three years, everyone was a stranger to her, for she was bound in shackles behind the cold steel bars of dementia.
“Look what I brought you, Isabella.” He leaned forward and took the flowers from the sill and placed them in her hands. Her empty eyes looked straight ahead; her face expressionless.
“Let’s try the candy, Princess.” He held the large, ornate box of chocolates in his hands, the familiar feeling of defeat bearing down upon his heart. He continued to purchase Valentine’s Day gifts for her; praying he could find just a trace of her somewhere beyond dementia. Valentine’s Day had always been their favorite holiday.
Some people felt the day lacked authenticity and was nothing more than a “money grab.” He believed that if this one day motivated people to say “I love you” with roses and chocolate in hand, then it was worth every penny spent.
Isabella tightened her grip on the vase of flowers and with her right hand, reached out and ran a trembling finger over the lacy edge of the candy box. She turned toward him slowly, her eyes now caressing his face. He had not heard her voice for an eternity, and when she spoke his name, he looked around the room in disbelief before bringing his gaze back to her. And then, she was gone; slipping back behind the iron wall that held her captive.
He pulled her toward him, crushing the flowers between them. He praised God, vowing to fill the room with flowers and red satin boxes of chocolate every day for the rest of his life if it would bring her back to him.
They held each other until Isabella fell into a peaceful slumber. She was sheer glass in his hands as he tenderly lowered her back onto the bed, tucked the box of chocolates securely against her side, and placed the flowers on the nightstand to ensure they would be the first thing she would see when she awakened.
Editor’s Note: Belinda Wilcox Ouellette lives Connor TWP with her husband Dale and their Goldendoodle Barney. They are currently working on building a home in Caribou. You may contact Belinda online at: dbwouellette@maine.rr.com.
