Last Thursday I followed him.

I felt ridiculous, honestly. I kept two or three cars back like something out of a bad movie. I had sunglasses on even though it was overcast. I almost turned around twice.

But I stayed with him, and I watched him drive right past the golf course. He didn’t even slow down. He went past the strip mall on Route 9, past the hardware store, and then he turned onto a road I didn’t recognize at all, even though I’ve lived in this town for most of my adult life. It was one of those roads that’s just there and you’ve never had a reason to take it.

He pulled into a parking lot. The sign said Maple Ridge Memory Care.

I didn’t know what to do with that. I sat in my car a few rows back and watched him just sit in his own car for maybe ten minutes. Not on his phone. Just sitting. Then he got out and opened the trunk and unzipped the golf bag. He changed his shirt right there in the parking lot. Put on the tie. Took out a small bottle from the side pocket and sprayed his wrists, his collar. Lavender. Then he picked up the bag and walked inside.

I waited twenty minutes. I don’t know why twenty. It just felt like enough time. I went in and walked up to the front desk and the woman there was friendly, older, had reading glasses pushed up on her head. I said, “I’m looking for the man who just came in. Tall. Blue tie.”

She smiled a little. “Oh, he visits every Thursday. His mother is in room 108. She has late-stage Alzheimer’s.”

I think I said thank you. I’m not sure. I walked down the hall and I found room 108 and the door was open and I stopped just outside it. I didn’t go in. I just stood there.

Gary was sitting in a chair pulled close to the bed. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, the way he sits when he’s watching something he really cares about. There was a woman in the bed. Small. White hair. She had her hand wrapped around both of his and she was smiling at him. Not a confused smile, not a vacant one. A real one. The kind you give someone you’ve been waiting to see.

She said, “You came back, Richard.”