The phone was getting hot against James' ear and he kept glancing at the clock. This phone call to his mother was supposed to be short. A quick question, a clear answer, and off to shopping, but these conversations were never short. James closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe.
"I'm trying to convince your father to sell this place."
James' eyes flicked open. "What? Why? I..."
"What would happen if one or both of us had to go to a nursing home?'
"Nursing home? You..."
"They make you spend all your money and then the put you on Medicaid. It would all disappear. They'd take it all. Plus, it's so much work for your father. Ever since he had The Incident, he hasn't been quite right."
"What do you mean? Is Dad..."
"He forgets things. Your grandmother, God bless her, was showing symptoms of dementia for years; symptoms I didn't recognize at the time, but they were there."
James rubbed his forehead. "Are you saying that Dad has demen..."
"He asked me what temperature to set the thermostat for bed, and he knows that."
"Well, that's not..."
"Whenever I mention selling, all I get is silence, anyway. I'll keep working on him."
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