This story is loosely based on my parents experience in living with Alzheimer's. The incidents represent their experience of the beginning stages of Mom's confusing behaviour and Dad's trying understand what was happening, while trying to keep her safe. This short story was published in Sea and Cedar Magazine in 2021. I dedicate this piece to my folks: Fred and Vi Smith.



In Sickness and In Health   

October 5th. 
James awakens on his back in the dark bedroom. He listens for a moment, then cautiously reaches towards his sleeping wife. His hand falls flat on the cold flannelette bedsheet. All is quiet in the small log house they built together on the Pender Island family homestead.

“Beth?” Silence. “Beth!” 

He sits up and tries to focus on her side of the bed, but sees only the hint of wrinkled sheets and the closely set waves of the discarded comforter. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and feels for his slippers. They’re gone. 

James starts down the short hallway to the kitchen. His once dark hair is threaded with grey and his blue striped pajamas hang loosely over his small frame. The tattered bottoms of his pants drag along the cold hardwood floor that chills his bare feet. The refrigerator hums as he glances at the ghostly green glow on the microwave: 4:13. He smells the tang of fresh ammonia, reminding him of the blue cleaner Beth uses on the kitchen counters. James smells something else.

Are those pancakes? 

The scene becomes clear as his eyes adjust to the lack of light. On the kitchen table is a plate stacked with pancakes in the center on a round wooden disk. The smooth surface is covered with a Christmas tablecloth and is set with two place settings of their good china, heavy cream square plates with a sprig of green bamboo in one corner, a knife and fork nestled on each linen napkin. Between the settings is a full container of golden syrup alongside a bottle of ketchup with an inch of red sauce at the bottom. 

His petite wife sits innocently in her wooden chair with her hands neatly folded in her lap like a child. On the plate in front of her are the remnants of a pancake sticky with syrup and ketchup. Beth’s arms and legs are bare and her feet are firmly set on the floor in James brown slippers. She shivers through her white cotton nightgown. Beth’s white-blonde bed-head reminds him of Einstein’s distinctive shock. Her normally bright blue eyes are dull as she stares unseeing out the window into the dark backyard at a spot where the bird feeder is not yet visible.   

I love her so much. 

He didn’t fall for her all at once. They met in their first year at university. They both wanted to be writers, and shared many of the same classes. James and Beth got to know one another by editing each other’s work. It took him almost a year to ask her out, and even though they were already friends, he was nervous. She was so beautiful, still is. 

Bunny, their black and white border collie, sprawls at Beth’s feet. Near Bunny’s black nose sits her metal dish with a hint of milk left on the bottom. She doesn’t lift her head but her black tail with a white tip thumps at James’ arrival. 

“Good morning, Sweetie. You’re up early.” 

Beth turns to his voice. “Oh, James. Good morning. I made us pancakes.” 

“So I see. They look terrific. You realize that it’s Saturday today, so we don’t have to get up early.” 

“Of course….” She looks at her hands. “I wanted to do something nice for you.” 

“You did. I love pancakes.” James pulls out his chair and sits. “Did you already feed Bunny?” Bunny thumps her tail at her name. 

“She was hungry. Shall I make coffee now? 
“That would be great, thanks. I see you’ve eaten?” 
“Did I? I guess I was hungry too.” 
James stabs a couple of pancakes from the serving dish with his fork. He reaches for the golden syrup and squeezes out a generous amount, and places the container back beside the bottle of ketchup. “Are there sausages too?” 
“No. Why?”  

“Just wondering, there’s ketchup on the table.” 

“Oh…I tried it on my pancakes, but it wasn’t very good.” 
He smiles. I guess everything doesn’t need to make sense. “Good to know, I’m not going to put it on mine then.” James takes a bite of his pancake. It’s cold. How long has she been up? 

Beth sets her husband’s coffee in front of him. With Bunny’s eyes following her, Beth reaches for the dog’s dish. “I might as well feed Bunny too.” 

James thinks back to September 17, the day that the doctor explained that the plans they’d made for the rest of their lives were no longer possible. The diagnosis of Early Onset Alzheimer’s put a stop to all of that. The doctor’s words ricochet around in James’s head: quick decline, aggressive, and if that isn’t enough—continuous and irreversible destruction. James considers his life in two separate pieces now: before and after September 17. The last two and a half weeks of life without hope feels like an eternity in hell. He gazes at his fifty-one-year-old wife in her thin nightie and feels like weeping. How will he bear to watch his beautiful wife leave him one inch at a time? 

James takes a sip of his coffee and holds back a gag. There’s sugar in here. “I’m pretty sure Bunny’s already been fed. You look cold, want to go back to bed and snuggle?” 

“What about the mess?” 

“Let’s leave it. I’ll get it later. After all, what else does a guy have to do on his day off?” 

“Exactly. You too, Bunny, come.” 

Bunny’s nails scratch at the floor as she scrambles to follow.    

  *    
October 6. Beth and James sit at the coffee table. There are dainty flowered tea cups on the white lace tablecloth. Burnt oatmeal cookies sit on a matching plate beside the cream and sugar set. Beth pours James a cup of tea. 

“Thank you, Miss,” James says, as he holds his pinky at an awkward angle. 

Beth laughs. “You make a silly lady.” The phone rings. Beth jumps up to answer it. “Hello?” 

“Hi, Mom. It’s your handsome and talented son, Dan.” 

“You’re funny. I’d know your voice anywhere,” says Beth. 

“How are you, Mom?” 

“Great. Dad and I are just having tea. How’s Cally?” 

“Uncomfortable and ready to pop.” 

“I can’t wait to see our granddaughter.” 

“Another week or two and we’ll all get to meet her. Is Dad there?” 

“Sure. Give Cally a hug from us.” Beth hands the phone to James. 

“Hi, Dan.” “How are you two?” 

“Really good. What have you been up to?” asks James. 

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve made some appointments for next week to view a couple different care homes.” 

“Not necessary. We’re good here.” Lines appear on his forehead. 

“I was hoping we could go together,” says Dan. 

“Not the time.” James takes a deep breath through his nose. “I can take care of my wife just fine.” 
“Sorry, trying to be helpful,” says Dan. 

“Thanks, but no. I’ve got to go. The tea party awaits.” James presses his lips together. 
“Okay, talk to you soon. Bye.” 
“Bye, Dan.” James hangs up the phone and holds his cup and saucer out to Beth. “Miss, more tea, please.”    

   *   
 October 31. 
James brings in the last two bags of groceries from the truck. He sidesteps Bunny, who dances around his feet. Crazy dog, you’d think we’d been gone for a week. He hefts the cloth bag adorned with unrealistically large rabbits onto the counter. The bag tips and a couple of red apples roll out. 

Beth washes the vegetables before she separates them into white drawstring pouches. She hums an unrecognizable tune. 

James begins unloading the remaining two bags. Between them, there are six liters of milk.  I must have been daydreaming when we went through the checkout. 

“I like that song. What is it?” asks James. 

“I don’t know the name, but we had to memorize it in elementary school for a concert. I have always loved the melody,” says Beth. “All of the district schools performed it on the lawn of city hall. It was very exciting for a ten-year-old.” 

He smiles at her unexpected moment of clarity. Just like Forest Gump’s box of chocolates, “You never know what you’re going to get.” 

“Who’s the sneaky one? How’d this get into the cart?” She holds a shiny bag of mini chocolate bars up in the air like they’re contraband cigarettes. 

“You put them in there yourself,” says James, laughing. 

“Hah, nice story.” 

“It’s Halloween. We bought them for the kids.” 

“Of course….” Her smile fades. 
James bends to grab the large plastic mixing bowl from the bottom shelf. “If you empty the bag into here it will make shelling out the candy easier.” 

“Okay, I’ll get some scissors to open the bag.” She turns and heads into the bedroom.   

“We can use the ones in here.” James shakes his head. We have never kept scissors in our bedroom. He pulls open the drawer underneath the cutlery and puts the blue-handled scissors next to the plastic bowl. He looks up to see Beth lingering in the doorway of the kitchen looking lost. 

Bunny scrambles over to Beth and rubs against her leg. Beth’s hand drops to Bunny’s head. “Is it your dinner time?” 

“She’s scamming you. It’s only two o’clock.” James sweeps his hand, palm up over the bowl, candy bag, and scissors. “All ready for you to perform your magic.” James clears his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, watch closely as this ordinary bag transforms into hundreds of delightful treats right before your eyes.” 

Beth moves to the counter. Ignoring the scissors, she rips open the candy bag with great effort. Mini chocolate bars fly into the air and scatter across the floor. 

James kneels to scoop the loose projectiles into the bowl, while Beth stares at the ones scattered on the counter. 

“No worries, Sweetie. I’ll get them. This afternoon I’d like to help Jeff with the fence along our property line. His sheep are getting through and wandering down the driveway. Would that be okay?” 

“Sure. You don’t have to ask me,” says Beth. 

“I know, just wanted to check that you didn’t have any plans for us. What will you do?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Maybe this would be a good time to work on your new manuscript. The house will be nice and quiet,” says James. 

Early in her career, Beth came up with the idea of compiling stories of a teenage girl who travels the world learning about other cultures. The young adult books flew off the shelves. She was astonished at their success.  

“I don’t think the book is going very well. I might rest instead. Getting groceries always wears me out.” 

“Call my cell if you need me, the number’s on the counter. I’ll leave Bunny here to keep you company.” James bends and kisses his wife’s cheek. “Love you lots.” 

“You too.” After a few hours, the men have the old section of wire fence rolled up into the back of Jeff’s farm truck. Two new fence posts are cemented in. As they lay out the new wire on the ground to cut it, they hear voices coming down the driveway. The men stop to watch as five children in costume advance happily towards them. Four school-age ones are covered in black from head to toe: clothes, hair, lips, and eyes. They drag a smaller child in a white furry costume with long pink ears by the hand. Their musical laughter is infectious.  

James smiles. The kids remind him of the many fun times he took Dan out trick-or-treating. “What are you guys dressed as?” 

“We’re Goths, and Kimmy’s a rabbit.” 

“Cool. You look great.” 

“Trick or treat, smell my feet, give us something good to eat,” the children chant. 

“Head on down to the house, my wife has some treats for you.” 

By the time the children come back up the driveway, Jeff and James have cut the wire to fit and have begun to nail one side to the new post. The light is fading. 

“How was the haul?” James asked. 

“There was a dog going crazy inside, but no one answered the door,” the group’s spokesman said. “We rang the bell a couple of times and knocked, but no one came.” 

“Oh dear, I’m sorry, she must have gotten tied up.” 

James gives Jeff a nod and takes off running towards the house. When it comes into view there are no lights on inside. His foot hits something metal on the sidewalk and it rings as it smashes against the bottom step. A wave of white liquid sloshes out of a stainless-steel bowl and over the steps. He jumps over it to the landing. His combined attempt to turn the handle and push the door open at the same time fails as he slams against the solid wood. Why is the door locked? 

“Beth? Beth, it’s James. Please unlock the door.” 

James turns, steps over the white puddle. Is that milk? He jogs around the house and tries the back door. With relief, he steps inside and calls again. “Beth!” 

Bunny rushes to greet him with little worrying yips. She circles James, her yips becoming urgent barks. 

“Where is she girl? Where’s Mom, show me.” 

Bunny takes off down the hall. 

James feels sick.   

Following Bunny, he glances into the empty kitchen and bathroom. The big bowl of candy in the front entranceway is untouched, but no sign of Beth. He follows the white tip of Bunny’s tail into the bedroom. It looks empty in here too. 

Bunny barks at the closet door. 

James pulls the bifold door open and sees his wife balled up in the corner. She is perched on top of her good shoes. 

Bunny pushes her way in and licks the streams running from Beth’s eyes and nose. 

A huge sigh escapes James’s lips, his shoulders relax and he sits down on the soft beige carpet in front of her. “Whatcha doing in there, Sweetie? 

Beth looks up and smiles in recognition, her wide eyes shining. 

James reaches out for her hand. She grabs it and holds on tight.   

“You’re okay now. You can come out.” 

He gently pulls her hand and she slips onto his lap. James puts both arms around her. 

“What’s got you upset?” 

“There was a gang of hoodlums outside banging on the door and ringing the bell. They were yelling and shouting that they were going to play a trick on me. I got scared, so I locked the door and hid in here.” 

“I’ve chased them all away. Shall we go see what we can find for dinner?”    

   *    
November 2 
“Hello?” says James, picking up the phone. 

“Hi, Dad. How’re you doing?” says Dan. 

“Hi Dan, just fine. How’s our new granddaughter?” 

“Corinne sleeps all day and is up all night. Cally and I are exhausted.” 

“You were the same,” says James. He smiles, remembering his baby son. 

“How’s work at the magazine?” asks Dan. 

“The pieces I write these days are mediocre. My mind is elsewhere.” 

“It might be time for some changes, Dad.” 

“I’ve been banking my holidays at work for our trip to Holland next year, but I’m going to take them now. Mom and I will holiday here. 

“Can’t you get some help at home while you’re at work?” 

“I can take care of her myself,” says James, nostrils flaring. 

“I can help too. The three of us will come over next weekend.” 
“We can’t do the whole weekend, but we’d love to see you guys for a couple of hours,” says James. 

“I’d like to talk about this, Dad.” 

“We’re fine as we are.” James’s fists come quietly down on the table. 

“Okay, you know what’s best. I’ll let you know what ferry we’ll be on before next weekend. Bye for now.”    

   *    
January 2. 
James rolls over to snuggle his wife. Her side of the bed is cold. SHIT. He squints at the red numbers on the clock: 2:07. 


“Beth? Beth! Bunny, where are you my girls?” Silence. He slips into his brown slippers and hollers for them as he frantically searches the house, then out into the yard. 

“Beth. Bunny,” says James, in a voice bordering on panic when he sees that Beth’s Mini is not in the garage. 

Where did you have to go so badly? 

Then James remembers Beth’s new obsession with catching a ferry to go home. She doesn’t recognize her own home as home anymore. When James explains that this is where they have lived for a long time, she doesn’t believe him. 

He runs back into the house for his truck keys and then races along the deserted winding road to the ferry. The terminal’s dark, Beth’s Mini is sitting at the front of the lineup. Dressed in only her nightie, she is sound asleep over the steering wheel. Bunny stands on the passenger seat, her bright eyes focused on James out the window.     

   *    
January 3. 
James sits with his elbows on the table, his head in his hands. He looks at the dry Cheerios in his bowl then at the empty milk carton. He shakes the carton again, just in case wishes really do come true. He laughs at his little joke, but stops short when he realizes tears are rolling down his face. 

Staring into the depths of his dry cereal he has come to a decision. I’m going to have to tell Dan. 

The house phone rings and he jumps up before it wakes Beth. 

“Hi Dan. I was just going to call you,” says James, staring at the call display.


“Is Mom okay?” 

“We had a bit of an adventure last night,” James closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and tells his son about Beth’s fixation with going home and the trip to the terminal in the middle of the night. There, I’ve officially betrayed my wife. 

“Oh my god, Dad.” 

“She’s safe, sound asleep now.” 

“Maybe she was headed to Grandpa and Gramma’s place?” 

“I had that thought too,” says James. 
“You sound as exhausted as we are.” 
“I guess I am. 
“I’m sorry. I wish you could just wave your magic wand and make everything better, like when I was little,” says Dan. 

“There’s no chance of me pulling a rabbit out of a hat this time.” 

“We need to talk about this.” 

“It’s happening way too fast,” says James. 

“I agree. I’ll be over today on the 12:15.” “Good morning,” says Beth, dragging her bathrobe. Bunny follows closely behind. 

“You mean good afternoon, sleepyhead. Want to say hi to Dan?” James hands her the phone. 

“Hi Dan. How are you?” 

“Great, Corinne is growing so fast. Cally is buying bigger clothes for her already.” 

“Good to hear. I’m going to get some breakfast.” She abruptly hangs up the phone and turns to James. “Who’s Dan and…?” 

“Dan is our son, Cally is his wife and Corrine’s their—our—brand-new granddaughter.” 

“Of course ....” Beth nods her head. 

“Would you like some toast?” 

“Yes. Do we have any eggs?” Beth spots James’s bowl of dry Cheerios. “You’re having cereal?” 
James shakes his head. “I’ve changed my mind, eggs and toast sound way better. I’ll cook.” He jumps up to get the eggs and butter out of the fridge. 

“Has Bunny been fed?” says Beth. 

“Yes, she has. How did you sleep?” 
“Good. You?” 
“Great. Want to play our writing game today?” asks James, digging in the cupboard for the frying pan. 

“No. I feel a bit groggy. Can we just sit in the garden?” 
“Sure, after we eat though. I’m starving.”    

   *    
February 3. 
He wasn’t listening to Dan chatter on about baby Corinne; James’s thoughts are focused on the suitcase in the trunk of Dan’s car. He had packed Beth’s case while she slept. Her favorite shoes, along with a set of clothes are laid out on her chair. Forgive me, Beth. 

Dan sits at the kitchen table sipping his coffee with too many sugars. He insists on taking Beth to the memory care facility without James. “It will be too difficult for you.” 

Failing her is more than difficult. 
Dan covers his mother’s small hand with his own, “Besides I want Mom to myself for a day.” 

Beth doesn’t notice James’s distress. She’s happily making a list of all the things she will do with her son today. When it’s time to go, James forces a happy smile on his face and hugs his wife a bit too long. 

“James. I’m not going to the moon,” says Beth. 

James waves enthusiastically until they are around the corner in the driveway. When he’s sure they’re, he melts into the gravel sobbing. 

The last few difficult months bubble to the surface as he gathers himself up the front porch steps. As he stands in the living room, he stares at Beth’s empty comfy chair, the one that she sits in when they watch the news and the Saturday night movie. The cracks on its burgundy leather arms spread like crazed spider webs and the seat sags where her cute bum fit perfectly. Where she will never sit again. 
A sob escapes from deep inside his belly and tears track down his cheeks, dripping off his chin. 

At his feet Bunny whines. James strokes her head. “Just the two of us now, girl.”He turns away from Beth’s chair and blinks hard to focus on the bookshelf where eleven books nestle together in the corner of the top shelf. These volumes represent Beth’s life work. The twelfth manuscript remains on her desk unfinished, like white sheets scattered in the wind. 

Who will write Beth’s stories now? 

James drops to the carpet beside Bunny. She licks his wet face and settles herself on his lap. He holds her as his tears soak into her fur. 

James is not sure how long they sit like this, but his back is stiff. He releases Bunny and stands. “Tomorrow we’ll go see how she’s settling in.” He strokes Bunny’s head. “But for now, I’ll put some coffee on, and for you, Miss Bunny, I’m guessing that you’d prefer a bowl of milk.”  

Dedicated to Fred and Vi Smith.