Body Language

Nanette and Josie concluded their prayer and proceeded towards the bus stop. Josie extracted her phone from her pocket and expressed her excitement about discovering a social media group dedicated to opposing firearms. "This one is incredible," Josie exclaimed. Intrigued by the photo of elderly women in their seventies, donning matching orange T-shirts and carrying signs that read "DISARM HATE," Nanette admired their unwavering faith and determination.

Josie was passionate about the spiritual aspect of her vocation, finding solace in the convent life. She aspired to actively contribute to the cause. Josie declared, "I yearn to be a nun so that I can serve the Lord throughout my life." Nanette's motivations, however, were more personal and self-serving. She expressed to Sister Phoebe Catherine, "I have felt God's calling towards this vocation for many years.

I need to grasp the reason behind it." Sister Phoebe Catherine replied, "We shall assist you in comprehending your calling." By the end of their initial conversation, Nanette had perspired profusely, leaving two distinct impressions on the cushion of the bench. The bus stop lacked a seating arrangement, and Nanette felt a strong urge to remain active.

She attempted to alleviate her discomfort by fanning her legs with the hem of her habit. The weather was unpredictable, oscillating between scorching temperatures and chilly conditions. The bus arrived, and they donned face masks as they boarded. The road was uneven, and the bus emitted jolting sounds reminiscent of a motherly call. * "If it transpires and I am oblivious," Barbara had once remarked to Nanette, five years ago, "you must inform me.

You must proclaim, 'Mom, you are afflicted with Alzheimer's and must adhere to your plans.' I will comprehend my role. Do not shy away from informing me, that is the most crucial aspect." This dialogue had taken place in her mother's car, at the parking lot of the memory care facility where her maternal aunt resided. It was a challenging visit, as Aunt Frances displayed a combative demeanor.

Nanette cherished her recollection of her mother's visage, the contours of her jaw, her voice, and the scent of her mother's new Dodge, which was still emitting fumes from plastics and adhesives. She couldn't help but wonder if the conversation itself was an indication of an underlying issue. The conversation didn't seem to align with her mother's usual behavior of taking responsibility.

A week prior, there had been a peculiar moment where it seemed as if Barbara had forgotten Nanette's presence in Chicago. Nanette attributed it to her mother's distraction or a mere misspoken word. However, she couldn't shake off the feeling of an empty cooking pot, its metallic surface echoing hollowly. Later, she would learn about the "plaques and tangles" of Alzheimer's, the accumulation of protein clumps believed to disrupt the smooth functioning of neural signaling.

She still pictured dementia as a sudden plunge into an empty, polished pot. "Promise me," her mother had implored. "Sometimes you hear people say, 'Leave me in a home and forget about me' or 'Put me on an ice floe and toss me out to sea.' If you mention ice floes, it's because they lack a plan. I have a plan. I mean it." Nanette had promised to uphold her word.

What could she possibly have said? "Mom, I believe it is approaching you. I think it may already be present." Nanette would converse with her mother later that evening, assuring her of her unwavering love despite the uncertainty. It was beyond her control. She was uncertain if Sloane and Laurel had shared similar discussions with her mother.

They might have kept her mother's condition concealed separately. Sloane or Laurel might have informed their mother, "It is time." It was conceivable that her mother had already come to this realization. Should Sloane arrive in Indiana and discover their mother deceased, Nanette felt a sense of unease. "We're here," said Josie.