Free Sample
Preview from chapter one
When Mom turned to check the oven, I palmed the little vial from my jacket pocket and tipped a quick dash into her glass. The powder dissolved instantly, a trickle of cloud that vanished as soon as the surface rippled. I had to respect it: the taste was nearly undetectable, and after the last few years of practice, I’d learned to do it in one motion. When she turned back, I was just polishing the rim of my own glass with a napkin. I poured her a refill before she even asked, topped it off so it looked generous. “So who’s coming tonight?” I said, trying to sound invested.
She rattled off the list. Neighbors, one retired teacher, one doctor, and the divorcee who’d moved in two houses down and wore yoga pants like they were a flag of surrender. I let her drone, picking at the edges of each name to see what weaknesses might come up later. The conversation drifted to the state of the world, then to the neighborhood, then to my work, which she never truly understood but always tried to weaponize as a bragging point for the HOA.
“It’s not a real office job,” I said, “but the hours are flexible.”
She wagged the knife at me, the tip glistening. “You could do better. You always could, if you tried.”
The salad pulled her attention away from harping on my life. Mom swayed a bit and I caught a patch of a tune hummed under her breath. The next time she tried to grab a serving spoon, it skittered out of her grip and hit the floor with a muted clang. She stared at it, as if betrayed by physics. “I’m fine,” she said, mostly to herself, and bent to retrieve the spoon. I watched her fingers clutch at the counter for support on the way down. She gave me a tight smile when she stood. “Just lightheaded. Probably the wine.”
“Do you want water?” I asked. I guided her over to the little bistro table she used for breakfast.
She shook her head, but the movement made her wince. “Just a minute,” she said, voice slurred at the edges. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a lot.”
I sat across from her, folded my hands, and watched. She stared at the wall, eyes half-lidded, and for a second, her face looked so young I almost felt bad. Then she blinked, and the mask reset, and she was herself again, only softer.