Between the Sheets by Molly O'Keefe

that lost, scared look in her mother’s eyes. Because behind the fear was knowledge. Understanding.
    She knew .
    Mom knew that she was drifting away from what was real. All of her anchors were uncertain.
    “Deena?” she asked.
    Shelby nodded, biting her lip. “She’s helping you go through the photographs.”
    That wasn’t true, but Mom had an ongoing project with the photographs; it changed in nature and focus, but it was a constant.
    “The pictures of the church.”
    Shelby closed her eyes against the bitter ache in her chest.
    “Yes. The pictures of the church.”
    Carefully, she began to stand, not sure if her motherwas with her or would suddenly pull her back down again. But Mom got to her feet, their hands still clenched.
    “Hello?” It was Deena again, now at the bottom of the stairs.
    “We’ll be down in a second, Deena,” she called. Mom dropped her hands and looked around the hallway, lined with piles of books and stacks of sewing projects. Boxes of yarn that she had ordered from a shopping network before Shelby cancelled the credit card she’d been using.
    Do you see? Shelby wanted to ask. Do you see this or not? Are you here?
    “What happened to you?” Mom asked. She reached up and touched Shelby’s hair where it was messed up from her yanking on it.
    “Nothing,” she breathed, trying to smile through the squeeze of the vise around her heart.
    “You look so pretty,” Evie said, stroking down her hair. “Your makeup is running.”
    Shelby nodded and felt hot tears fall from her eyes.
    There wasn’t going to be a date. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t sit across from Ty in some bar or restaurant and make small talk after her mother had called her a slut, smacked her face. Logically, she understood that Evie didn’t mean it. That it was the disease. Dr. Lohmann said the days would come when her mother no longer recognized her, when the care Shelby gave her would not be enough, when the disease already swallowing Mom’s life would start to swallow hers and she would need help. More help.
    It was inevitable.
    But in her heart there was no way she could reconcile everything; she didn’t have the personality, the wherewithal to bridge the gap between coping day to day with her mother’s Alzheimer’s and going out on a date with a man who wore leather bracelets.
    A date. Who was she kidding? Shelby didn’t date. She pined after men who didn’t want her. She made terrible sexual mistakes. Dating was for regular women. Normal women.
    She was devastated inside and she could not pretend otherwise.
    “Let’s go downstairs,” Shelby said, leading her down the steps to where Deena was waiting. There was no fooling Deena, who knew every inch of the Alzheimer’s battlefield, and when they came down the stairs she felt Deena’s sharp eyes taking in the messed-up hair, the tears, the despair Shelby could not hide.
    Deena’s smile was a tight, knowing knot, and Shelby had to look away, uncomfortable with pity and compassion.
    “Hello, Evie,” Deena said, quietly, but kindly. “How are you tonight?”
    “I’m fine,” she said, though it was obvious she was confused. Scared.
    “Mom’s ready to look through those photographs with you,” Shelby said meaningfully, but Deena needed very little prompting.
    “Looking forward to it. Why don’t you get settled, Evie, and I’ll get us something to drink.”
    Evie shuffled off into the living room, where all the boxes of loose photographs and the albums were stacked.
    “Are you all right?” Deena asked.
    “Is it that bad?” She smoothed down her hair, wiped her thumbs under her eyes only to pull them back covered in black mascara.
    “You just look like you’ve been smacked around some.”
    “Some,” she breathed, but it rattled in her chest. Through her body, as if it were made of tin cans and string. “I can’t leave …”
    Deena shook her head and grabbed her hands. “Nonsense.We’re fine. Your mom is calm now. She’ll have