Disclaimer: I don't own The Pretender

Melissa Russell was once a vivacious woman with silky dark hair that fell down to her shoulders, her tantalizing blue eyes were the color of the ocean and the sky. She once wore red lipstick, short leather skirts and three-inch stiletto shoes like someone who stepped out of a fashion magazine of her era.

After thirty years of marriage, Jarod wanted to grow old and gray with his wife. The memories they built together were nothing but vague recollections of missing pieces to her. She would sit, nod and paste a smile on her face, at times detached and unfeeling, a far cry from what she once was.

Jarod had brought his family together. Catherine at twenty-two was about to graduate from the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York, she had arrived three days after her father's phone call. Andrea, twenty-eight was a program analyst, married with two children.

At age sixty, Melissa was much too young to be suffering from Alzheimer's disease. Yet, she sat in her chair as she combed her shoulder length hair and stared out of the window. However, she held no comb in her hand, just went through the silent movements in slow motion.

"Mom."

Melissa turned. "Do I know?" She wore a puzzled look.

"Mom, it's me, Andrea, your daughter."

"I had a daughter once." She spoke slowly and smiled at the young woman who stood before her. "I think I had two daughters." Melissa held up her fingers.

"Your other daughter's name is Catherine." Andrea turned her mother around.

"Mom, you do know me, don't you?"

"I have two daughters," Melissa repeated, as she again held up two fingers.

"Catherine, get in here. Now." Andrea crouched in front of her mother. She held on to her hand and interlocked their fingers while she laid her head onto her lap. For a slip second, Melissa felt as if she were a little girl again while she stroked her daughter's hair.

"What is it?" Catherine had on oven mittens while she put down a casserole dish on the dining room table.

"Tell her who we are," Andrea said.

"Mama, look at us. This is Andrea and I'm Catherine. We're your daughters. See out there, in the front yard, it's Sydney and Debbie, Andrea's children, your grandchildren. They're playing with dad, their grandfather, your husband, Jarod. Do you remember?"

A handsome man with salt and pepper hair and dark chocolate eyes, Jarod walked into the living room and kissed Melissa on the cheeks. She pointed to him and seemed to reminisce about something tucked away in her heart years ago. She smiled.

"You remind me of a young man I knew a very long time ago," she told this stranger. "He must have a family of his own by now."

"Melissa...Parker." His voice was soft, he knelt in front of her and held her hand. "We're your family. Don't you remember the happy times? God, what's happening to you?" Jarod embraced her. "I love you. Do you remember ever loving me, honey?" Tears ran down his face.

With a faraway look, she pulled away. "You remind me of a young man, a long time ago, a nice young man. Do you know what ever happened to him?"

Catherine and Andrea hugged their father while he wiped his tears away.

"Dad," their son-in-law called out. "Mom's luggage is in the trunk of your car. We'll be leaving around nine tomorrow."

"We're going somewhere?" Melissa asked.

Jarod nodded painfully and walked away, his eyes filled with tears.

He walked into the living room. Emptiness filled his heart. He and the children had agreed to place Melissa in an institution, something he had never imagined. He remembered the happier times, but now, there was no one to share it with anymore.

He entered her bedroom. They no longer slept together as husband and wife for she did not recall who he was. He stared at her bed, and of the indentation of the mattress from the many days she laid there as she stared at the ceiling. Jarod ran his fingers on her dresser. He went through each drawer to see what was left behind.

In the bottom one, which was never used, there was an envelope addressed to him. He leaned against the wall, slid down and read the contents.

Jarod, My Love,

If you are reading this, I am assuming I have died or you and the girls have finally gotten the courage to put me away. Thank you. I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am for what I've put all of you through.

I am writing this to you now, since in the long run I know I will not be able to communicate with you. I've done my homework. I've studied about this disease. Eventually, I will not remember who you are or let alone myself.

Here I am, speaking for all the days I know I won't be able to. Thank you for the love you've given me all these years. I know we've had some hard times, namely The Centre. I am so thankful you fought so hard for me, as stubborn as I am, to have proven your love and had gotten me the hell out of there. You've put up a lot with me and I thank you for your patience. I know you will keep my memory alive.

There are so many things I need to say. The most important one is I love you so very much. I am so fortunate to have you in my life and for being blessed with beautiful daughters.

I am so thankful for the precious years I'd had with you and for the many more to come. I want to spend a whole lifetime with you, my best friend and lover. Thank you for giving me the best times of my life.

So, before you say goodbye, remember, I will love you and want you for all of my life.

All My Love,

Your Parker

His head lowered, Jarod cried. "Oh, Miss Parker. Goodbye."

The End