“And why is he facing the wall?”
“He becomes overwhelmed by the view.”
Nora closed her eyes. The explanations had been prepared in advance.
A pause.
“Has he eaten?” Lorenzo asked.
“The nurse supervises his meals.”
Nora looked down at the bowl in her hands. It still held half the food she’d brought, because the sound of the cars had interrupted them.
Lorenzo appeared at the doorway.
“You,” he said.
Nora looked up.
“Why are you standing here with food?”
Her mouth went dry.
Mrs. Gable hurried over. “She’s new. She doesn’t understand the schedule.”
Lorenzo looked from Nora to the bowl. “I asked her.”
Nora drew a breath.
“Because he can’t reach the trays by himself. I was helping him finish supper.”
Mrs. Gable made a warning sound.
Lorenzo didn’t look away from Nora.
“How long has that been happening?”
“Since I started here. Four weeks.”
“You’ve been feeding him?”
“When I can.”
“And the nurse?”
“I’ve only seen her twice. I don’t know what arrangements your family made.”
Lorenzo’s expression stayed controlled, but his hands had become still.
“Come inside,” he said.
Giovanni was watching the door.
Lorenzo went to his chair, crouched, and took his father’s hand. “Dad?”
The old man’s eyes filled.
Mrs. Gable began to explain that emotional responses were random in advanced dementia. Nora heard herself interrupt.
