The 'Mentalist' Association

Through the Fog

Through the Fog

By @rebel_rebel, Britain

I opened my eyes slowly as I drifted into consciousness, leaving the realm of dreams and sadly entering reality. I shivered as I felt goose-bumps arise on my skin as the room felt cold, even from under the sheets. Rolling over, I glanced at the closed windows in confusion, the source of the freezing temperature out of sight.

It was then that I noticed the lack of a person-shaped lump beside me, the coldness of the room partly because of the lack of her presence.

Immediately panic laced through my veins as I tore the sheets off of me and climbed as quickly as I could out of bed, my bad back doing me no favors.

Stumbling out into the hall I shivered involuntarily, my teeth chattering slightly. To my surprise the front door on my right was completely open, the distant sound of cars and night life a faint but constant murmur.

I spun around and grabbed my robe from the back of the bedroom door and then I noticed hers was there too. Lord, she must be freezing.

Pulling mine on as quickly as possible, I snatched hers up as well and raced to the front door, slipping on some shoes and closing the door behind me with a soft thud.

"Teresa?" My quiet, albeit panicked voice was soft at first, wary of the sleeping neighbours as I shuffled down the path, the frozen grass glistening, "Teresa!" but my voice soon rose to a loud shout as the worry for my love shoved the sleeping patterns of my neighbours out of the window. "TERESA!"

Hearing a mumble and some scuffling noises not far away, I carried on calling her name. "Teresa!" My desperation for her safety pushed me on through the frigid night air, her fluffy robe clenched in my cold fingers.

I followed the noises carefully as I cut through some trees, an owl's hoot sounded from right above my head, startling me. Through the fog I caught sight of a familiar hunched over figure in a bus shelter up ahead. I came back out onto the path again and by squinting in the darkness, the nearest streetlight just a few meters too far away, I recognised Teresa.

Feeling my shoulders relax at having found her I walked along the remainder of the path quickly, eating up the distance between us before I hovered in front of her uncertainly, my hand on the plastic beam holding up the rickety old shelter and wondering what her current state of mind was.

Her once rich, dark, but now silvery, grey hair was shoulder length, a natural curl tickling the top of the thin nightgown she was wearing.

She still hadn't noticed me, "Teresa," I murmured in a low voice but still audible for her tired ears to hear me.

It was at that moment that she decided to spin around in surprise at the new person accompanying her, the quick movement resulting in her losing her balance. Automatically I reached out with both hands to steady her but instantly regretted it as she wrenched herself away from me, her eyes wide in pure shock as her back hit the clear, plastic backing of the bus shelter.

"What-what do you think you're doing? Going around and grabbing at vulnerable, old women like that. You could go to prison. I used to be a police officer, you know," she snapped, shaking her head at me, her eyes flickering back and forth.

Sighing, I spoke quietly, "Teresa, it's me, Patrick. Your husband. Remember? I know you used to be a police officer. That's how we met."

Her eyes focused upon my face, unwavering as she studied me, her head shaking slightly, trying to make sense of the words I had just said. Suddenly her face went completely blank, like someone had erased all the emotion from her face. "Oh Patrick," she murmured, taking a step forward towards me. That was all I needed.

Her eyes lowered as a violent shiver raked through her body. "Cold," she said, her eyes staring straight down at the floor. Hurriedly I wrapped the soft robe around her shoulders and tugged her forward, "come on now, lets go inside, lets go get warm."

* * *

Alzheimer's. A disease. An illness. But mainly a thief. For Alzheimer's had stolen from me. Alzheimer's had stolen my love, my wife, my partner.

Sometimes Alzheimer's returned her, just for a few extremely rare moments of lucidity. But then he would always cruelly snatch her away again. Just to taunt me.

I smiled at her, at Teresa, over my cereal and she half-heartedly smiled back, her mind on many other things.

She's there. She's alive. She breathes and lives and she's a person. But she's not my person anymore. She's not Teresa Lisbon anymore.