Grandma’s delusions weren’t like the standard Alzheimer’s delusions. Her delusions convinced her she was the Princess and Royal Heiress to the Kingdom of America. This created certain complications. Luckily, everyone in town was willing to help our family and go along with her wild demands.
“Helena’s the same, thank God,” Dad replied.
“The exact same for the past seven years,” I grumbled. “I mean, if it’s Alzheimer’s, shouldn’t she be getting worse?”
They ignored me.
Dad added, “Better put in an order for their meals too. They’ll be along soon.”
“Sure thing, sugar,” Kat said, making her way back towards the kitchen.
“Oh, the joys of having only one place to eat in town,” said Dad, and he picked up two napkins from the dispenser, handed me one, and laid his in his lap.
I folded the napkin into a fan. “Dad, don’t you find it odd that someone with Alzheimer’s would recognize if you changed the order?”
“Not if they find comfort in small things being the same.”
“Yes, but how can she remember things down to a fine detail? She knows when I move a book on the shelf. She remembers license plates of bad drivers. And she knows her appointment schedule better than anyone else. I can’t even remember stuff like that.”
“That’s because you have more going on in your life right now. Starting college soon, graduation parties, midnight movies. Your brain is still developing; her brain is trying to hang on.”
“Or maybe the diagnosis isn’t right.”
Dad pursed his lips and then added, “Look, kiddo, you’re passionate. I’ll give you that.”
“And you’re wrong,” I said with a nod.
“Well, one of us is,” Dad retorted.
There was no use going on with this argument, so I took my phone from my purse and checked my notifications. A clang from a nearby table brought my attention back to the diner.
A new busboy, a young man I didn’t recognize, wiped down an empty table. He had a long pink scar from his temple down to his jawline. His eyes landed on me, and my eyes darted down to my phone. He must have seen me looking at his scar. I let my hair fall over my eyes and my now crimson face. I mean, the scar was very noticeable, but I still shouldn’t be looking. I understood what it was like to have a whole room stare in your direction.
Dad saw him too and grumbled, “Not today, buddy.”
“It’s the eyes, Dad.” Or he saw me staring and knows I am an awful human being. I hoped for once it was the eyes because people always noticed them. Everyone commented on them. ‘So interesting’, ‘Just like your mother and grandmother.’ Always. Gray’s an interesting color, but personally, I would have loved to have bright green eyes the exact color of grass after a spring rain. Nope. I got the color of a nickel, dull nickel.
“No, it’s not,” Dad countered. “You’re a beautiful young woman. I’m getting you pepper spray before you leave for college. No, make that a taser.”
“Dad!” My cheeks were lava. I cast another secretive look at the new man and whispered to Dad, “Strange we don’t know him. We know everyone in Barton.”
“It’s a town. People come and go.”
“But in Barton? People are usually introduced at barbeques and football games. I can’t remember the last time a stranger just showed up.” The guy went to the kitchen and returned with a bin for dishes.
“People come and go all the time in normal places.” Dad sighed. “Maybe you need to get out of town for a while. As you have reminded us repeatedly, you are almost an adult.”
“So, you’re saying Barton’s not normal?” I asked, and we both laughed.
“Well, kiddo, no. In normal places, not everyone knows your name. There’s more to do than barbeques and football games and cow tipping.”
“No one cow tips. It’s not a real thing.”
“Sure, it is. Just cause you never!”
“They sleep on the ground.”
Dad took another long drink of his coffee. “Still, Wavy. I think college will do you some good.”
I picked up my straw paper and twisted it between my fingers. “Can’t wait.”
I smiled as the lie passed my lips. I’d never say it out loud because I was almost an adult and I didn’t want to sound like a kid or upset my parents, but I wasn’t excited for college. I mean, in theory college sounded great, but it didn’t come without its complications. When I left, who would advocate for Grandma’s correct diagnosis? No one. My parents believed the doctors. Without me, no one would question it. Syracuse was only two hours away, but I wouldn’t be able to come home every day or even every weekend, especially when winter started. And I would never mention this to my parents because it would give credence to Grandma having Alzheimer’s, but deep down, I was afraid my absence would somehow make me disappear from her mind just like Grandpa had. I mean, I kind of thought she’d remember me because I was her favorite person and her memories had been steady, but it felt wrong to risk it. Not wanting to get into any of that with my dad, I simply added, “College will be great.”
“I remember my college days. Wait—” A huge smile took over Dad’s face, and he went to his feet as Mom and Grandma, both freshly made up from the salon, came through the door. The whole restaurant followed Dad’s lead and stood up, and they gave Grandma a deep bow. That is, everyone except for one person. The new busboy didn’t move. He stared in confusion.
This impropriety caught Grandma Helena’s attention. “Bow down, you impertinent fool, or prepare to suffer the dire consequences.”
The busboy froze.
“I am her royal highness, Princess Helena Elizabeth, Princess of Connecticut, Countess of Massachusetts, Duchess of Pennsylvania, Duchess of Maine, Countess of Maryland, Lady of the Centrals, Stewardess of the North!”
Dad laughed. Grandma was a presence: dignified, gracious, and a bit crazy. This poor new guy didn’t know how to respond. Grandma stepped
