The young lady who saved Myra and Dexter that night was skilled in medicine and acupuncture. Who else but Felicia could have accomplished that? As soon as this thought occurred, Myra stumbled, immediately chasing after Felicia. “Was it you, Licia? Were you the one who saved us that night?”
“It wasn’t me,” Felicia replied, without turning. She seemed detached, as if shutting the world out.
Myra felt resentful and helpless. She hated Felicia’s indifference. How could her daughter be so impossible to reach? Even a dog would wag its tail at its owner. But Felicia? She always addressed Myra as Mrs. Fuller, never once calling her “Mom.” When had Felicia ever considered Myra her mother? Myra’s heart ached.
Just then, Kerry’s mocking laughter rang out. Myra realized she had spoken her thoughts aloud. Embarrassed, she snapped, “What are you laughing at?”
Kerry crossed his arms. “Ms. Fuller is a wonderful person. She may seem cold, but she’s kind. If you feel she’s distant, have you considered that you might have pushed her away?”
“And one more thing… You said she doesn’t treat you as her mother. Well, I’ve never seen a parent treat their daughter the way you and your husband treat her. Mrs. Fuller, if parenting were an exam, you two would fail miserably.”
Myra was speechless, her face paling. She wanted to defend herself, but Kerry had lost interest. He carried Dexter out the door, loaded her into a cab, then ushered Myra in as well. “Off you go!” he said, stuffing a hundred-dollar bill into the driver’s hand. “Step on it, sir. Take them as far away as you can!”
The cab sped off. Kerry dusted his hands, his coat fluttering in the breeze as he left.
In the cab, Myra gave the driver their address. Once they arrived, she coaxed and tugged Dexter upstairs. Their apartment was a mess. Trash bins overflowed and reeked, untouched. Myra sighed, rolled up her sleeves, and cleaned. Between tidying and watching Dexter, she was exhausted by the time the apartment was finally in order.
Then she remembered Kayla wasn’t home. She called her daughter.
Kayla stammered, “M–Mom, I’m… I’m having dinner out. Just wait a bit, okay? I’ll bring takeout back for you!”
Myra frowned. Kayla’s voice was hushed, as if she didn’t want to be overheard. Who was she with? Myra wanted to ask, but Kayla hung up.
An hour later, Kayla returned with two takeout containers, entering with a bright smile. But Myra frowned. After their bankruptcy, all their assets had been seized to pay off debts. Their house, handbags, and jewelry—everything—had been confiscated. Kayla had cried over the loss. Yet now, she wore a completely new outfit, an expensive sapphire necklace, and a matching bracelet. How could she afford this?