On the wall next to the steel baker’s rack behind her, I could see a black-and-white photo of Stanley standing with his research team as he accepted an award for his latest breakthrough.
“Some days he seemed so rational that I’d lull myself into a false sense of security, and then one day I found him out in the garden, because he couldn’t find his way back inside. From our own garden! After that, he became afraid to leave the house.” Tears fell from her eyes.
I wanted to comfort her, but I sensed that it was more important to let her talk. The coffee finished brewing, and I took some milk out of the fridge.
“He’d go into his office every day, as if he was still working. I guess he felt like he was doing something useful, but all he did was rearrange his books and leave them scattered over the floor. It drove me insane. I’d yell at him, and he’d look at me with fear in his eyes. Finally I realized that all I could do was go with the flow and give him my love and my kindness as much as I could during that long good-bye.”
“Like dogs do. Live in the moment, I mean.”
Ruth gave me an odd look. “Yes, I suppose so.” She took the mug of coffee from me and drank it black. “And of course, the sex was the first thing to disappear. The medication shut that side of our life down immediately. That’s when I met Edward.”
I squirmed on my chair. How long until everyone from the Historical Society got here?
I couldn’t exactly condone Ruth’s transgression, but I’d learned over the course of my almost six decades on this earth not to judge people too harshly. She’d had a heavy burden to bear, and it must have been a lonely and painful existence for her to watch her beloved husband fade away. Could I really blame her for seeking a little romance and attention?
She stood up and went over to the French doors that led out to the garden. “There was one violent episode. We’d recently changed his meds, and suddenly he lost it and came at me with a knife.” Her back was toward me.
“My God, Ruth. I can’t believe it. Stanley was always such a peaceful, gentle man.”
She sighed. “He didn’t remember it, but I did. Then he became convinced that giant lab rats were taking him out of the house in the middle of the night, testing drugs on him. You wouldn’t believe the gruesome things he told me. That they removed his eyeballs and put cameras back in where his eyes had been so the rats could watch what I was doing to him.”
Ruth wrapped her arms around herself, and I could see the sharp angles of her shoulder blades.
“It was like his brain scattered in all directions. We adjusted the medication and he became docile again, but then he went into a dark place where I couldn’t reach him anymore. He was absolutely terrified. Nothing I could say would reassure him. God, he didn’t even know who I was.”
She came and sat back at the table and drained her coffee in one gulp.
“Oh, Ruth, that must have been so hard.”
She nodded. “I had to keep reminding myself it was the disease talking. I guess if I was in a place where I didn’t know anyone or where I was, I’d be scared, too.”
I saw for the first time just how much she’d had to deal with. I knew that Alzheimer’s was a terrible disease, not only for the person afflicted, but perhaps more for the families involved, but I hadn’t visualized what life was like day-to-day. Now I was ashamed I’d ever suspected her of murder.
“Ruth, I wish I could have helped you more. You could have leaned on me, and your other friends.” Although as I got up and poured us some more coffee, I reflected that I would probably have been the same way. Trying to control everything myself and too proud to ask for help.