The test of any relationship is whether someone will stick around when times get tough.
Mark has middle-level Alzheimer’s. There are long periods of time he cannot account for. Often he can’t remember the names of everyday objects, or even of people. This is both unsettling and irritating. He spends a good deal of his time in a comfortable armchair by the window, looking out at the back yard.
But there is a man in the house with him. Mark doesn’t feel threatened by his presence. Just perplexed. Who is he? What is he doing there? All Mark knows is that he is handsome and has the most beautiful blue eyes he has ever seen. There are moments when he thinks he remembers who the man is, but as time marches on and the disease ravages his brain, he becomes less and less sure.
Perhaps it isn’t even a man.
Part 1Every day I misplace a small part of myself, and for the life of me, I cannot think of where I’ve left it. It bothers me, confuses and frustrates me, for quite a while afterwards, but then my mind is distracted by other things. Such as the man on the other side of the living room. I can see clearly he is dusting, moving things to one side with one hand while the other hand goes to work with a scrap of cloth. But who is he? What is he doing in my home? Or is this my home? Some of the objects look vaguely familiar, though a number of them are strange to me. And there are one or two items that I simply would never have bought. But I don’t want to ask questions. I don’t want to sound stupid. I stare out of the window. It’s a cool autumn day. I know because the back yard is skirted by a
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