Seeing Diana step into the room with the cup of medicine, which I had been taking for one week—since the night Laura had broken down in tears before me—I sighed, not concerned that Diana would hear me, or moved by the fact that she was laughing now. The brute.
“Why the long face, Maya?” She teased, stretching the cup of greenish bitter liquid to me, her eyes twitching and swishing.
I ignored her.
“You don’t want it? I will have to call my mother then…” She said, dropping the cup of medicine on the bedside table. She was about to turn away, but I held her by the arm, and dropped a soft knock on her head. She was really getting bouts of fun out of delivering a medicine much bitter than anything I had tasted.
It was something that Laura had concocted for the memory loss that she thought w
