<\/p>\n
In a small, redbrick house on a narrow street between John and Union, there live Anne and Robin. They have lived at 25 Severn Avenue for about thirty years. Neither could tell you exactly how long. They have a small, yappy black dog named Molly who lives with them, too. Anne works at the university, teaching primatology. Her favourites are the orangutans. When she was younger, Anne wanted to be just like Birute Galdikas, who studied orangutans in Borneo. Anne took Robin to Indonesia once. \u201cTrip of a lifetime,\u201d they called it. Though Anne may be nearing retirement age, she has no plans to leave the university any time soon. Robin works for the bank. \u201cNowhere near as interesting as what Anne does,\u201d she likes to say, \u201cbut it\u2019s good steady work, banking.\u201d Robin spends her days chatting with friendly, loyal customers who\u2019ve been using her bank for as long as anyone can remember. She advises young people on how best to invest their money, and of course, spends a lot of time crunching numbers. Robin is very good with numbers. Anne likes to joke that she is a human calculator.<\/p>\n
There is nothing particularly interesting about the lives of Anne and Robin. Every day they wake up, make the bed, draw the curtains, and go downstairs to let the dog out. Every day, Anne makes two pieces of toast and scrambles two eggs, and Robin makes a pot of coffee. After breakfast, they go upstairs to get dressed\u2014Robin in black slacks and a white blouse, Anne in whatever she feels like that day; usually blue jeans and a colourful top and cardigan. Anne and Robin listen to the radio while they dress and brush their teeth. Every weekday morning, at eight-thirty sharp, Robin pulls on her black loafers, grabs her keys and work bag, and kisses Anne goodbye. She\u2019ll be back at half-past five. After twenty-or-so minutes, Anne\u2019s left for work, too. She\u2019ll be back sometime before dinner.<\/p>\n
On the weekends, Anne and Robin\u2019s routine is a little different. They still make the bed and draw the curtains when they wake up. They clean their teeth, then head outside for a morning walk before breakfast. Molly comes too, of course. Some days they\u2019ll stop by a little cafe they know. A cappuccino for Anne and a latte for Robin. They look forward all week to these morning walks.<\/p>\n
Today though, Anne and Robin must skip their walk. Robin has a doctor\u2019s appointment. On the way, Robin turns on the radio while Anne drives. They don\u2019t talk. They don\u2019t listen to the radio, either. Anne holds Robin\u2019s hand in the waiting room. She knows Robin feels nervous. Anne is nervous, too. When the doctor calls Robin\u2019s name, Anne is not allowed to go in with her. She will pretend to read a magazine while she waits. The doctor gives Robin a piece of paper and tells her to draw a clock with all the numbers. He gives her five random words, which she is later asked to recall. Doctor Steckley wants a scan of Robin\u2019s brain. Anne and Robin go home.<\/p>\n
Back at the house, Robin does the crossword in her chair by the window. Anne sits beside her, reading a book, with Molly on her lap.<\/p>\n
On Monday, like every weekday, Robin kisses Anne goodbye and leaves for work at eight-thirty sharp. Twenty-or-so minutes later, Anne has not left for the university. She is meeting with a specialist today. The specialist tells Anne the signs to look out for. Fatigue, forgetting words, mixing up times, dates, names. The specialist tells Anne what she can do to help. Anne knows there is not much she can do to help.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Seven months have passed since Robin got the MRI scan that confirmed her Alzheimer\u2019s diagnosis. Many things are still the same at 25 Severn Avenue, but some things are a little bit different. On weekdays, Anne still makes breakfast while Robin makes the coffee. They still listen to the radio every morning. But at eight-thirty, Robin does not leave for work. Most days, Anne does not go to the university, either. Most days, she works at the dining room table with her laptop computer and half a dozen books splayed out in front of her. She goes in once a week for her lectures, and she attends meetings over Zoom<\/em>. Robin does not say aloud how much she misses her job at the bank, but Anne knows. She also knows that it was Robin\u2019s choice to leave the bank. The numbers and the fast-paced conversations had become too much. Today is a Saturday, and Anne, Robin, and Molly are out for their morning walk. They are chatting about how the weather is getting too hot again, now that it\u2019s May, and how there is a lovely little bungalow for sale just around the corner. They follow the path up to their favourite little cafe, and Anne waits outside with the dog. Robin stands patiently in line behind a young woman with brown hair in a braid down her back. Robin remembers wearing her hair like that in high school. Now it\u2019s too short to put in a braid. When it is her turn, Robin makes her way up to the counter. \u201cOne latte please,\u201d she says, \u201cand one\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Robin cannot get the word out. She knows what it is. She\u2019s been asking for it nearly every weekend for years. She can feel it on the edge of her mind, but she just can\u2019t quite grasp it. A young, twenty-something-year-old barista in a green beanie with neck tattoos looks at her blankly. She tries again. \u201cI just want to get a\u2026cohh..no a cc\u2026I\u2019m sorry\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Robin is getting flustered. Her face is red and she is wringing her hands. A familiar barista pops her head out from around the espresso machine. \u201cMorning, Robin! The usual? Latte and a cappuccino?\u201d she asks cheerfully.<\/p>\n Robin nods quickly. Cappuccino<\/em>. She turns the word over in her head. She mouths the sounds slowly.<\/p>\n Outside, Robin hands Anne her coffee. She takes a sip of her own. Hot and frothy milk washes over her tongue. Robin is quiet on the way back to the house. Anne is her normal, bubbly self. She points out a dragonfly, flitting about. She chatters on about the sweet, little bungalow for sale, and its lovely garden. Anne does not know about the trouble at the cafe, and Robin will not tell her.<\/p>\n It is evening now, and Anne and Robin are cleaning up from dinner. Anne is washing plates and cutlery, warm, sudsy water up to her elbows. She hands the dishes to Robin to dry, one at a time. Robin focuses her gaze on the dish she is drying. It is part of her late mother\u2019s China set, passed down from her grandmother to her mother when she married, and then passed on again to Robin when she and Anne moved to Severn Avenue. Blue flowers border a farmhouse design with wheat blowing in the wind. Robin looks at Anne, who is humming quietly to herself. \u201cAnne? Anne, when I can\u2019t remember anymore, and I start to forget you and I start to forget me, I don\u2019t want you to forget you either.\u201d<\/p>\n Anne looks at Robin with a small smile and tears in her eyes. \u201cWhat do you mean, love?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhen I can\u2019t remember your coffee order and I forget to dry the dishes before I put them away and I don\u2019t know my own name anymore, I want you to find a nice long-term care home for me. I don\u2019t want you to forget to live your life just because mine is changing.\u201d<\/p>\n Anne sets down a China bowl and her tea towel. Anne looks Robin in the eyes. \u201cYou are not going to forget us. You are not going away anywhere. I will make sure of it. Don\u2019t talk like that, Robin.\u201d<\/p>\n Robin looks at Anne with a small smile. \u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n Robin does not talk about the home again for the rest of the night. In fact, Robin does not raise the subject again for some time.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Robin is standing in the produce aisle of the grocery store. In her hands she holds one lemon and a green produce bag. She is rubbing the edge of the bag between her thumb and forefinger, trying to get it to open. Robin is getting frustrated. She cannot get the two sides of the bag to separate. She turns around, looking at a wall of organic granola bars, gluten-free flour, and sugar-free fruit snacks. She puts the lemon down on the dirty, concrete tile. She puts the green produce bag inside her purse. Robin reaches into her pocket for her car keys. They are not there. She sees a young man in a red shirt and apron, with a nametag, and hurries over to him. \u201cCan you help me? I was just looking for some jam. It\u2019s for a birthday. I\u2019m making a cake.\u201d The employee points Robin toward an aisle, two or three down to the right. Robin makes her way across the store, her black handbag resting in the crook of her elbow. She turns down an aisle. She is surrounded by cans and tins of beans, fruit, corn, mushrooms. Robin turns around and she is looking at greeting cards. She turns again. Milk and cheese and eggs and yoghurt, and sour cream. Robin is lost. She does not see Anne, or any of the jars of jam she came looking for. She starts to cry.<\/p>\n Anne finds her a few moments later. She holds Robin in her arms, and brushes tears from her cheeks. \u201cIt\u2019s okay. You\u2019re okay.\u201d<\/p>\n At home, Anne settles Robin into bed. She lies down beside her on the worn pink duvet. \u201cI should have been there with you. I let you get confused and lost.\u201d Anne has tears running down her cheeks. She has dark circles under her eyes, from too many sleepless nights. \u201cIt\u2019s my fault,\u201d Anne whispers.<\/p>\n \u201cNo. Don\u2019t be silly. It wasn\u2019t your fault. It\u2019s awful, I know, to see me like this. I know it. But I want more for you. I want you to do what you love. Your job, your life. Anne, you deserve more than taking care of me every minute and shouldn\u2019t have to babysit me at the grocery store. I want to go into a home.\u201d<\/p>\n Anne sits up quickly. \u201cAbsolutely not. I promised you I\u2019d stay by your side always. I want to be the one to take care of you. You are my life, Robin.\u201d<\/p>\n Robin sits up, too. She turns her body to face Anne. She holds Anne\u2019s hand with both of hers. They sit like that for a long time.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Robin is walking to the dining room table with a blue-and-white patterned coffee cup in her hand. She looks down to take a sip. The cup is empty. She never filled it up. She looks at the cup and frowns. Anne is puttering around the house, looking for yarn, needles, her knitting bag. Anne has knitting club every Saturday. A new hobby, picked up a little over a month ago at the recommendation of a friend from the university. A way to deal with stress, she had told Anne. \u201cIs it Saturday?\u201d Robin asks her.<\/p>\n \u201cNo love, it\u2019s Wednesday.\u201d<\/p>\n Wednesday. That\u2019s right. Knitting club is on Wednesday.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you\u2019ll be alright here on your own, Robin? I\u2019ll be back before lunch.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I\u2019ll be alright,\u201d Robin answers. She is still standing in the hallway, between the kitchen and the dining room, looking down at her cup.<\/p>\n Robin is sitting in her chair by the window, watching the birds outside. One bird opens his little beak and sings to his friend. His friend doesn\u2019t sing back. Maybe he can\u2019t find the words.<\/p>\n Anne comes home. She asks Robin if she has eaten. She is not sure if she has or not. Now Robin is sitting at the table and Anne is in the kitchen making\u2026 something. She mentioned the name before she started but Robin does not remember what she said. \u201cHow long until my supper is ready?\u201d<\/p>\n Anne tells her that they already ate.<\/p>\n That\u2019s right. They already ate. The plumber is coming tomorrow, to fix the upstairs toilet. The part on the toilet that makes it flush isn\u2019t working, and it keeps running the water because the bowl won\u2019t fill up. The plumber is coming tomorrow. He\u2019s going to fix the toilet.<\/p>\n Like every weekend, Anne and Robin take Molly out for her walk. She likes to sniff the bushes, and the trees, and if we see any other dogs she\u2019ll sniff them, too.<\/p>\n Anne is in the bathroom when the doorbell rings. Robin gets up from her spot on the couch and opens the door. There is a man there, and he is looking at her expectantly. The man wears dirty old jeans, and a faded button-up shirt. His belly hangs over his belt, and he carries a toolbox. \u201cWho are you?\u201d Robin asks him. He looks at Robin, uncertainly. \u201cI\u2019m the plumber. John.\u201d<\/p>\n Robin stares at him. She looks toward the bathroom door.<\/p>\n \u201cYou did call for a plumber, didn\u2019t you?\u201d he says, incredulously. \u201cYou asked me to fix the toilet. If you didn\u2019t call, don\u2019t waste my time.\u201d<\/p>\n Right. The plumber. He\u2019s coming tomorrow to fix the toilet. Today is tomorrow, and he\u2019s here. \u201cYes,\u201d Robin says.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere is it?\u201d he asks.<\/p>\n Robin stutters over her words. She wrings her hands.<\/p>\n \u201cThe hell, woman, just say what you\u2019re tryna say, for God\u2019s sake.\u201d<\/p>\n The plumber pushes past Robin with his toolbox and walks a few paces into the living room. She watches as he stands on the patterned, red carpet with his big, muddy work boots. Tears well up in Robin\u2019s eyes. Anne hurries out of the downstairs bathroom. She looks at Robin. Now Anne is yelling at John. She is pushing him out the door. She is crying. Anne grasps both of Robin\u2019s hands in hers. She says it\u2019s okay.<\/p>\n Now, Anne and Robin sit on the couch. \u201cDid I do something wrong? I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo. You did nothing wrong. Don\u2019t be sorry,\u201d Anne says, sadly. \u201cIt\u2019s okay.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnne?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, love?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t like it anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t like what?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s too hard here. And it makes you sad.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t make me sad, Robin, you make me so happy.\u201d<\/p>\n Anne has tears running down her cheeks. She makes no effort to brush them away.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m going to a home. I want to go.\u201d<\/p>\n This is the first time that Robin has raised this subject in some months. But this time is different. This time she will hold firm. Robin\u2019s mind is made up, and there is nothing Anne can say to change it.<\/p>\n Anne and Robin sit on the couch, their hands clasped together. They sit like this for a long, long time.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Today is Thursday. Robin\u2019s bags are packed and waiting by the front door. Anne glances at them sadly as she makes her way down the stairs. She lets Molly outside. She makes two pieces of toast and scrambles two eggs. She puts on the coffee. Anne can hear a bird chirping, out the window. While the coffee brews, she goes to wake Robin. Robin does not wake.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Lime Tree<\/strong> I knew what the package would contain: a copy of my sister\u2019s first book of poetry. She was in her early twenties like me, but was already being noticed as an animal activist and a writer. 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\nIt was only a coarse brown envelope from home, but it fetched a smile of pleasure in me. I had been feeling low, facing an uncertain future as an international student studying in Toronto. The latest changes to immigration laws had made returning to India a real possibility.<\/p>\n