Carter crossed the street slowly.
The moment she saw Margaret standing freely in the living room, her expression changed.
“Margaret?”
“Hello, Evelyn.”
Mrs.
Carter stared at her.
Margaret continued, “Your grandson started college last month.
You brought me those terrible lemon cookies before he left.”
Mrs.
Carter’s mouth opened slightly.
“They were terrible,” she admitted.
For the first time that day, my mother smiled.
It lasted only a second.
I asked Mrs.
Carter, “What exactly did Lila tell you about Mom?”
Lila interrupted immediately.
“This is humiliating.”
Mrs.
Carter looked uncertain.
“She said Margaret had been declining.
That there had been incidents.
Wandering, confusion.
I thought…”
She looked toward the stairs.
“I heard her shouting earlier.”
“Because the door was locked from outside,” I said.
Mrs.
Carter’s face drained of color.
Lila shook her head furiously.
“For safety.
How many times do I have to say it?”
Margaret reached toward me.
“The last page.”
I had almost forgotten the folded sheets.
I opened the final one.
Unlike the others, it contained only a few lines.
If Daniel comes home and Lila says I am confused, ask her where my phone is.
Ask why the bedroom locks from the hall.
Ask why she tells different people different stories.
Underneath, Margaret had written one more sentence.
I am writing this while I still know she cannot erase what happened if someone else sees it.
I read it twice.
Lila saw my expression.
“Oh, come on,” she said.
“Anyone can write a dramatic note.”
My mother looked at her.
“You were counting on that.”
Lila went silent.
Margaret continued.
“You were counting on every normal thing I did becoming proof that I was sick.
If I got angry, I was unstable.
If I disagreed, I was paranoid.
If I remembered something differently from you, I was confused.
And once you convinced Daniel, nothing I said would matter anymore.”
Lila’s composure finally broke.
“I was trapped too!”
