A Mother Would Know (76)

“I know you did,” she says gently, wearing a condescending smile. “I looked over your test results, too. You emailed them to me, remember?” I remember no such thing, but I want to believe that it’s not my brain missing the memory—it’s a lie she’s trying to spin. “The ones he ran on you were blanket tests. There are many other markers for dementia that Dr. Steiner didn’t check for.”

Any other day I’d believe her.

But that was before she poisoned me.

“Look at you, Mom. You’re not healthy,” Kendra continues, her hand covering mine. Hers is cold and clammy.

“You did this to me,” I say, attempting to pull my hand back.

But she holds it in place, her grip hurting me, her eyes narrowing. “The only thing I’ve done is help you. You’re actually lucky I showed up when I did today. You were delusional and could barely stand up straight. I got you into bed.”

“It was...the tea.” I painfully rotate toward my dresser where I’d left my teacup, but it’s not there.

Kendra follows my gaze. “What tea?”

“The tea I drank earlier.” A headache pricks between my eyes, my mind fuzzy.

“I didn’t see any teacups, Mom,” Kendra insists.

“But... I’m sure I had some...” I blink. “I mean, I think I had some...” I did, didn’t I? I feel a flash of panic, a moment of doubt that maybe Kendra’s right about all of this—but then I remember the face in the mirror moments before the world went dark.

“Cut the shit, Kendra,” Hudson says. “We all know you did something to her.”

“You don’t know anything.” Her face hardens. “He’s just trying to pit you against me, Mom.”

“Look at her, Kendra.” Hudson angrily throws his arm out to point at me. “I’ve never seen her like this before.”

She huffs. “I gave her a sedative, that’s all.”

I reach a shaky hand up to touch my hair. It’s damp in the back. The shower. Yes, I took a shower. I clearly remember drinking tea before getting in the shower.

I look over at the deflated pink ball in the corner. Kendra knew about my visions. The ones involving Grace. I’d confessed to her about hearing tapping noises over the years, and that I’d always pictured Grace bouncing a ball. Had she planted it?

Theo had said Mason wasn’t sleeping well. He told me Kendra had been driving him around in the middle of the night. They live less than a ten-minute drive away. She could have easily stopped here, little Mason snoozing in the back. But would she do that?

And if so, why?

It can’t be a coincidence that she drugged me today—the day I called about the test results. What is the reason for wanting me to think I have Alzheimer’s? It doesn’t make any sense. She’s been trying to help me, encouraging me to see the doctor, bringing me vitamins and probiotics.

Oh, my god. The vitamins.

“You’ve been drugging me all along,” I say aloud.

Kendra’s head snaps toward Hudson, her eyes bugging out. “See, I told you. Delusional.”

But I wasn’t. She’d been bringing me vitamins for the better part of a year, ever since she’d taken a class on nutrition. Once in a while, she changed the brand—“Oh, these were on sale this week”—and a month or two ago, she’d arrived with new ones: “My professor says these are the best. Prescription-strength.” I remember a few days later thinking what perfect timing—I was really starting to forget things, wasn’t I?

Then I remember how right after Hudson moved in there had been a few days where I’d forgotten to take the vitamins. Those days I felt lucid, more normal. Well, except for that night at the Tavern, but I’d had too many sangrias then.

“This whole time it’s been you,” I wheeze.

Kendra offers me a condescending smile and pats me as if I’m a five-year-old. “Yes, Mom, this whole time it’s been me taking care of you,” she says, twisting my words. Before I can respond, though, her eyes widen. She reaches for the gold watch that sits on my nightstand.

“What’s Theo’s watch doing in here?”





27





“It’s Theo’s?” I ask. “You’re sure?”

Kendra turns it over. “Yes. That’s the inscription I got. I bought it for him on our first anniversary.”

“What does the inscription mean?” I have to know.

“When we met, Theo used to joke that he’d hit the jackpot when he met me. He wrote it into his vows, even—guess that’s something else you don’t remember?”

Jackpot. Not angels or numerology.

Luck. Lucky number sevens.

She tosses it back down on the nightstand so hard it almost clatters off the surface. “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing with it?”

“I found it at Molly’s,” I say.

Kendra’s face blanches. Hudson’s eyebrows jump up.

“What the hell were you doing in her house?” Kendra says.

“I think the more important question is, why did I find Theo’s watch there?” I ask.

Kendra’s expression hardens, her eyes mere slits on her face, her lips a tight line. It’s the same expression she wore when Theo introduced us to Molly in the front yard. “Probably because he was fucking her,” she says bitterly.