Three days.That’s how long my mother had been missing.
Three days of frantic phone calls, sleepless nights, and endless dread.
My mom, who is 67 and has Alzheimer’s, had somehow wandered out of the house in the dead of the night while I was away, taking the kids to their summer camp.
The camp was four hours away, and Nate, my husband, couldn’t leave work. So, we decided that I would take the kids, drop them off, spend a night at a motel, and then drive back the next day.
I had left Mom in Nate’s care, trusting him to watch her while I was gone.
But that trust was shattered the second I got the call.
It was Nate who called me to tell me that Mom was missing.
“She’s gone, Claire!” he said frantically on the phone. “Edith! Your mom… I don’t know how it happened or when. I just woke up, and she wasn’t there.”
Those words knocked the wind out of me. I sat at the edge of the motel bed, feeling like I couldn’t breathe. At least my kids were safely away. I could drive home as fast as anything.
I threw my things into my overnight bag, gulped down my coffee, and ran. I needed to get home. I thought my mother was safe. Nate had opted to work from home just so that he could be there, ready and available if needed.
I thought she’d been safe.
I was wrong.
For three agonizing days, we searched everywhere. The police were involved, and hundreds of questions were asked and answered. Flyers were posted and a hotline was created.
But it was as if she had vanished into thin air. Just like that.
The guilt ate me alive. I should have been there. I should have stayed home. Or I should have taken my mother with me. It would have meant more stops along the way, but she would have been with me.
I would have kept her safe.
But how could I have known? Alzheimer’s was a slow thief, robbing her of herself in pieces. I left her at home because her routine was one of the few things that kept her stable.
But she’d never wandered off like this before.
When the police pulled up to our house on the fourth morning, my heart leapt to my throat. I rushed to the window, seeing them guide my mother out of the backseat.
Relief washed over me, but when I glanced at Nate, his reaction wasn’t what I expected at all.
Instead of looking relieved or glad, he looked… nervous.
The unease settled in my stomach like a rock. But I pushed it down, chalking up Nate’s behavior to guilt as well. He was probably stewing in his own guilt. He was supposed to be watching over Mom, but she had escaped on his watch.
“I’ll deal with him later,” I muttered.
Nate needed to know that as terrified as I had been, I didn’t blame him. My mom was losing hold of her mind, and this was an accident.
Right?
I threw the door open just as the officers helped my mother up the steps. She looked disheveled, her clothes rumpled and her hair wild. Tears stung my eyes as I hugged her, the smell of the outdoors and three days of unwashed fear clinging to her.
“Claire-bear,” she said, calling me by the name she used my entire childhood. “Where have you been, baby? I was waiting all alone for you!”
“Mom, where did you go?” I whispered, holding her tight.
But she barely acknowledged my words. Instead, she was staring over my shoulder, her eyes fixed on Nate.
“Mom?” I said, stepping back. “Talk to me?”
She ignored me and lifted a trembling hand, pointing directly at my husband.
“You need to arrest him,” she said, her voice thin but sure.
It felt like the air was sucked out of the room. Even the police officers exchanged glances, unsure of what to do.
“What?” I asked. “Mom? Nate? What are you talking about?”
She kept pointing but turned to look at me. That’s when it hit me—she wasn’t having an Alzheimer’s moment. She was lucid. The look in her eyes made that clear.
“Three days ago,” she started to say. “I saw him. I saw Nate in your bedroom with a woman.”
“What?” I whispered again.
“I heard voices upstairs,” she said. “But I forgot that you and the kids were gone. So, I thought that it was the kids playing. I just wanted to see what they were doing.”
Nate shifted uncomfortably.
“Claire, she’s confused. You know how your mom is. She’s probably remembering something from years ago…”
But Mom shook her head, her eyes wide and wild.
“No! I saw you! And I asked you to explain yourself. You tried to make me feel like I was stupid, Nathan! And you said that the woman was a homeless person who you were helping out for the night. Which homeless person wears red-bottomed shoes? And you told me to get out!”
“Mom, what do you mean he told you to get out?” I asked.
“I didn’t know where I was!” she cried, tears now spilling down her face. “He told me that I didn’t live there. That I lived with you and the kids, and this wasn’t your home! He said I had to leave. I thought he was right… I was terrified.”
The living room was silent, save for Mom’s ragged breathing.
The officers shifted, awkward and unsure, and then one of them cleared his throat.
“Ma’am, do you remember where you went after that?” he asked.
She shook her head, the light from her eyes dulling a bit. Her moment of lucidity was leaving slowly.
“I walked away. I just opened the door and walked away…”
I felt dizzy, my pulse pounding in my ears. I turned to Nate, my mouth dry.
“Nate, tell me she’s not… tell me that this didn’t happen!”
He raised his hands.
“Claire, come on,” he said. “She’s confused. She probably saw something on TV or while she was away.”
“Tell me!” I screamed.
The police officers stood there, clearly trying not to get involved, but I could see the judgment in their eyes.
Nate rubbed his face, sighing heavily.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Look, she came into the room. And yes, I had a visitor. But it was nothing, Claire. It wasn’t anything serious. I didn’t want to freak her out, so I told her that the woman was just someone we were helping.”
I felt like I was going to be sick.
“A visitor?” I repeated. “You had a woman in our bedroom?”
“It didn’t mean anything!” he said quickly, stepping toward me. “Claire, it wasn’t serious! I can explain myself!”
“Shut up,” I said. “You had an affair. And while I was gone, you took advantage of the situation. You lied to my sick mother because you knew that she was impressionable! You know she’s vulnerable!”
He looked at his feet, guilt written all over his face, and that’s when I knew. My entire marriage flashed before my eyes, and in that moment, I didn’t see the man I’d built a life with.
I saw a coward.
A man who let my mom, the woman I’d fought so hard to care for, wander the streets for three days because he wanted to cover up his lie.
The police officers cleared their throats.
“Ma’am, we… uh, we don’t have any evidence of a crime. It doesn’t seem like there’s anything we can do. There’s nothing illegal going on. Just that you’re married to a horrible man.”
I nodded.
“You can leave. Thank you for bringing my mom back,” I said.
As they turned to leave, I turned to Nate.
“I trusted you,” I told him. “Now, get out.”
He blinked, stunned.
“What?”
“I said get out, Nathaniel. Pack your things and go. I’m done.”
“Claire, let’s talk about this,” he said. “It wasn’t what you think. We can work this out!”
“We can’t work it out. It’s over. I’ll call you after I pick up the kids,” I said. “You can explain to them why you don’t live here anymore.”
He tried again, but I wasn’t listening. He muttered a few curses under his breath as he packed a bag. It wasn’t until I heard the front door close that I let the tears spill down my cheeks.
“Come on, Claire-bear,” my mother said. “Let’s go make some tea and some chocolate cake, okay?”
I looked at my mother and saw that the moment had passed. Her Alzheimer’s had taken over again.
“Come,” she repeated, taking my hand. “We’ll make it together.”
I allowed her to lead. I had two weeks to figure out my feelings before my children came back from camp. Then it was going to be… devastating.
What would you have done?
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