Chapter 3 - What George Couldn’t Remember
George read the words four times.
DON’T SIGN ANYTHING.
The handwriting was his.
No question.
The sharp D.
The cramped S.
The final G dropping below the line.
But he did not remember writing it.
Elaine stood in the doorway.
“George?”
He closed the calendar.
“Yes?”
“You all right?”
“Fine.”
Mason watched both adults.
Elaine looked toward him.
“Your mother asked me to make sure you eat before she picks you up.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You were five minutes ago.”
Mason folded his arms.
George almost smiled.
Elaine turned toward him.
“Do you want your afternoon medication now or after tea?”
George looked at her.
“After.”
“Fine.”
She left.
Mason whispered, “Don’t take it.”
George sat beside him.
“You can’t tell me that every time.”
“She does it when nobody’s looking.”
“What?”
“Switches them.”
George took a breath.
“Mason, I need you to listen carefully. If you see Elaine do anything with my medicine, don’t stop her.”
Mason looked frightened.
George continued.
“Come get me. Or your mom. Don’t touch anything.”
“But what if you drink it?”
“Then tell me before I do.”
“You didn’t listen last time.”
George had no answer.
Caroline arrived at five.
George asked her to stay.
They sat in the living room while Mason watched television nearby.
“I want to see Dr. Benton Monday.”
Caroline nodded.
“I can take you.”
“I want a complete medication review.”
She looked at him.
“Okay.”
“And I want someone else there.”
“Who?”
“A pharmacist.”
Caroline leaned back.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“You’re starting to scare me.”
“I’m asking to verify my prescriptions.”
“That’s not scary.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
She rubbed her forehead.
“Because Uncle Philip says you’re accusing everyone.”
“Everyone?”
“Elaine. Him.”
“I asked questions.”
“You asked why they talk to each other.”
“They do talk to each other.”
“About your care.”
George stared at her.
“You knew?”
“Of course.”
“How often?”
“I don’t know.”
“Caroline.”
She sighed.
“When you started having episodes, Philip offered to help. Elaine keeps him updated sometimes.”
“Why Philip?”
“Because I work.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Because he’s your brother.”
George sat back.
Mason glanced toward them.
Caroline lowered her voice.
“You’re turning normal things into something sinister.”
“Maybe.”
“Dad.”
“Maybe I am.”
That stopped her.
George looked toward the fireplace.
“I don’t trust my own memory anymore.”
Caroline’s anger disappeared.
He continued quietly.
“There are hours I cannot account for. Things I supposedly said. Conversations I don’t remember.”
She moved closer.
“That’s why we’re worried.”
“I know.”
“So let us help.”
George looked at her.
“Help me find the truth. Not manage me.”
Caroline swallowed.
“Okay.”
Monday morning, Dr. Benton’s office was quiet.
George sat in the examination room with Caroline and Elaine.
Dr. Benton reviewed the medication list.
Nothing immediately appeared wrong.
George described his episodes.
Sleepiness.
Confusion.
Short-term memory gaps.
Benton frowned.
“How often?”
Elaine answered first.
“Two or three times a week.”
George looked at her.
“Is that accurate?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me it was that frequent?”
“I have.”
George’s jaw tightened.
Benton noticed.
“Let’s slow down.”
He ordered bloodwork.
He also recommended a neurological evaluation.
George agreed.
Then he asked the question he had been waiting to ask.
“Could any of these medications cause profound drowsiness?”
“Some can contribute.”
“Confusion?”
“Depending on the patient, combination, timing, hydration, blood pressure, many things.”
“Could the wrong dose cause it?”
Caroline shifted.
Elaine looked at the doctor.
Benton said carefully, “Any medication taken incorrectly can cause problems.”
George nodded.
“I want every pill verified.”
Elaine’s face tightened.
Benton turned toward her.
“You fill the organizer?”
“Yes.”
“Bring it.”
She opened her tote bag.
The organizer was inside.
George felt something cold.
Why had she brought it?
Perhaps because she always did.
Perhaps because she expected the question.
Benton opened the compartments.
He compared the pills to the list.
One by one.
Everything matched.
Caroline exhaled.
George watched Elaine.
She did not look relieved.
She looked insulted.
Benton closed the organizer.
“Your medication appears correct.”
Caroline reached for George’s arm.
“There.”
George pulled away gently.
“I see.”
Elaine remained quiet during the drive home.
At the house, she placed her tote on the kitchen chair.
“I’d like to leave early today.”
George looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because being accused of harming someone is difficult.”
“I did not accuse you.”
“You brought me into a doctor’s office and had my work checked.”
“My medication.”
“Which I manage.”
George nodded.
“Yes.”
Elaine looked at Caroline.
“I’ve cared for people with memory problems before.”
George stiffened.
Elaine immediately corrected herself.
“With possible memory problems.”
“That’s better.”
Caroline stood.
“Elaine, nobody thinks you’re trying to hurt Dad.”
George did not agree.
He also did not disagree.
Elaine saw it.
“Maybe I should take a few days off.”
Caroline looked alarmed.
“We need you.”
George almost laughed.
The words came too quickly.
We need you.
Not Dad needs you.
We.
Elaine zipped her bag.
“I’ll come tomorrow.”
She left.
Caroline waited until the door closed.
“You embarrassed her.”
“I embarrassed her by checking pills?”
“You know what this looked like.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Like a man trying to determine whether he is being medicated properly.”
Caroline stood.
“I have to go.”
George watched her walk out.
That evening, something unexpected happened.
George felt clear.
Not somewhat better.
Clear.
He read forty pages of a history book.
He completed the crossword.
He made himself dinner.
He remembered where he placed his glasses.
At nine, Caroline called.
They spoke for nearly thirty minutes.
No confusion.
No repetition.
Tuesday morning, Elaine returned.
By one-thirty, George could barely keep his eyes open.
At two-fifteen, he fell asleep in the den.
When he woke, the clock read 5:47.
Elaine was gone.
There was a note on the table.
Rested well. Dinner in refrigerator.
George stood slowly.
His mouth felt dry.
His head was thick.
On the coffee table sat a glass with a cloudy residue at the bottom.
George stared at it.
He did not remember drinking from it.
He picked it up.
There was no smell.
He carried the glass into the kitchen.
Then he stopped.
He remembered Mason’s words.
Don’t touch anything.
George placed the glass inside a paper bag.
He wrote the date and time.
Old habits.
Evidence does not explain itself.
But it can disappear.
The next morning, George called a retired colleague named Samuel Wade.
Sam had been a prosecutor years before.
Now he spent his time teaching criminal procedure twice a week and complaining about golf.
When George explained the situation, Sam did not laugh.
He did not reassure him.
He asked one question.
“Do you want me to tell you you’re imagining it?”
“No.”
“Good. Because I don’t know.”
George waited.
Sam continued.
“But I know you well enough to say this: when you don’t know, you verify.”
Exactly.
George had forgotten how comforting that principle could be.
Sam suggested hiring an independent nurse to review his medications.
George agreed.
He also suggested installing a camera in the kitchen.
George hesitated.
“Legal?”
“It’s your house.”
George looked toward the hallway.
“I don’t want Caroline thinking I’ve lost my mind.”
Sam snorted.
“If you install one camera, maybe you’re cautious. If you install forty and start accusing the mailman of espionage, call me.”
George laughed for the first time in days.
That afternoon, he ordered a small indoor security camera.
He installed it himself the next morning.
He placed it on a bookshelf facing the kitchen.
Visible.
Not hidden.
Elaine noticed immediately.
“What’s that?”
“Camera.”
“I can see that.”
“Then we’re making progress.”
She did not smile.
“Why?”
“Security.”
“In the kitchen?”
“Yes.”
She folded her arms.
“Is this about me?”
“It’s about me wanting a record.”
Elaine looked toward the lens.
“You don’t trust me.”
George replied quietly, “I don’t trust my memory.”
For a moment, something almost like sympathy crossed her face.
Then she nodded.
“All right.”
Two days passed.
Nothing unusual happened.
Elaine administered medication normally.
No strange pills.
No unexplained drinks.
George had no episodes.
By Saturday, he began feeling foolish.
Caroline visited.
He showed her the camera.
She was furious.
“This is getting out of control.”
“It’s my kitchen.”
“You’re filming a caregiver without even asking if she’s comfortable.”
“She knows.”
“That’s not the point.”
George looked toward Mason, who was building a tower on the floor.
“Maybe you’re right.”
Caroline softened.
“Dad.”
“I said maybe.”
She sat beside him.
“Come stay with us for a week.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I live here.”
“It might help.”
“Help what?”
“Everything.”
George studied her.
“You think I’m unsafe alone.”
“I think you’re scared.”
George looked down.
That was true.
He was scared.
Not of Elaine.
Not yet.
He was scared of himself.
Later, Mason wandered into the kitchen.
George was making tea.
The boy looked at the camera.
“Why is that there?”
“So I can see what happens.”
Mason nodded thoughtfully.
Then he looked around.
“Miss Elaine won’t do it there now.”
George stopped.
“What?”
“She saw it.”
“What does that mean?”
Mason pointed toward the hallway.
“She does the pills in the laundry room.”
George’s skin prickled.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“You were here yesterday?”
“Mom dropped my backpack.”
George remembered.
Caroline and Mason had stopped for less than ten minutes.
“What did you see?”
Mason pointed toward Elaine’s black medical pouch.
“She took the blue ones out.”
George moved closer.
“From where?”
“That.”
“The pouch?”
Mason nodded.
“And then?”
“She put them in the day boxes.”
“Which day?”
Mason frowned.
“The one with the T.”
“Tuesday?”
“No.”
“Thursday?”
Mason became frustrated.
“The other T.”
George stared.
Tuesday.
Thursday.
Mason could not tell them apart.
“What color compartment?”
“Yellow sticker.”
George’s heart began to pound.
There was no yellow sticker on the organizer now.
He opened the cabinet.
The organizer sat inside.
No sticker.
Mason looked confused.
“It was there.”
George picked it up.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
George examined the plastic carefully.
May you like
On Thursday morning’s compartment, near the edge, was a small patch of sticky residue.
As though a sticker had been peeled away.
