[ RF ] Take one more step . Just one .

The hallway smells like it always does- lemon scented cleaners and cheap perfume. It smells- and looks- like a sterile prison somebody tried to disguise as motel lobby. I sit in the empty waiting room, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall. Rows and rows of beige chairs stare at me. Taunting me. 
 
 Tick. Tick. Tick. 
 
 `` Ms. Aiden, rare of you to come on a Tuesday.'' The nurse says. She must have just started her shift. Her scrubs are clean, hair neat, and makeup fresh, not how she looks on the Saturday nights when I'm usually here. I ca n't remember her name, despite seeing her every week. Emily? Emilia? Erin? 
 
 `` Got off work early. Figured I'd stop by.'' I say, my tone matching the blandness of the walls. 
 
 `` Well, you got here right at shift-change. Hopefully the last nurse has n't kept you out here too long. Go on back.'' 
 
 `` Thanks,'' I mutter and grab my purse, quickly making my way down the long, stark hallway. The linoleum floors remind me of middle school. The endless rooms remind me of a hotel. The machines and cots littering my way remind me of my own impending mortality. I force myself to think these thoughts, notice these things. Anything other than thinking about why I am here, and what waits for me in her room. Nobody taught me how to do this. Nobody told what I should feel. They just send flowers or offer to drive my kids home from school. This is uncharted territory, and I'm scared. 
 
 I knock on her door. No answer. I creek it open, entering the room to the sound of my shoes on the ground. She's probably sleeping, right? 
 
 `` Take on more step, just one, and I'll call the cops!'' Panic dripped each word, hit my ears and turned to heartbreak. 
 She scrambled to the corner of her bed, holding out her arms in front of her face. Terrified. 
 
 `` Mom, it's me, it's Paige, your daughter.'' I say. 
 
 `` Please do n't hurt me.'' She stammers. 
 
 I put my purse down on the floor and slowly lift my hands up in surrender. I'm still across the room from her. 
 
 `` I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. Look at me, Mom. Look at my face.'' We lock eyes. `` See, mom? See, it's me Paige Aiden. Your eldest daughter.'' Slowly, with each word, her terror turns to confusion, and then frustration. 
 
 `` You must have the wrong room, dear. I do n't have a daughter.'' 
 
 `` Yes you do. You are my mom, Christina, and I see you every Saturday.'' I say, trying not to cry. This has n't gotten any easier over the years. Every time it destroys me a little more. 
 
 `` I'm sorry, I do n't have a daughter. Why am I even here?'' 
 I take a step towards her. She eyes me intensely as I sit cautiously on the foot of her bed. 
 
 `` Who are you? Where am I?'' 
 
 `` You are Christina Aiden. You are in a hospital. I'm your daughter.'' 
 
 I can practically see my words washing over her and out of her. 
 `` Why am I in a hospital?'' She asks after a moment. There's no use trying to explain it to her. She asks the same question everyday, never retaining the answer. There is no reason to be bothered explaining her own Alzheimer's. 
 
 `` You had a car accident. You hit your head, so that's why you are feeling a little confused. Everybody involved was okay.'' My response seems to resonate just a tad, soothing her for a moment. I seize the opportunity to get up and from her bed and grab my purse from the floor, still in the doorway. When I turn around, the slight calmness in her eyes has reversed itself. She's afraid again. That was faster than normal for her, but then again, progressive diseases progress. The fruits of my labor to keep her sane will never be enough. This must be why nobody visits her anymore. 
 
 `` Who are you? Who are you!? Take one more step, just one, and I'll call the cops!'' She says again. 

