“It’s a container, Marga.”
“No. It’s my container, from my shelf.”
Mara was fully awake now.
She reached for one of the receipts sticking out of it.
There were dates written beside the circled items.
I’d totaled everything I could document.
Mara looked at me.
“Is this all the stuff that’s been disappearing?”
“Most of it.”
Kayla scoffed.
“Oh my God. It’s food.”
That sentence changed Mara’s expression.
“It’s food you didn’t pay for,” she said.
Kayla looked at her.
“I said I thought it was mine.”
Mara held up a receipt.
“Then why are all her missing groceries circled?”
Kayla had no answer.
I got out of bed and took the container from her.
“You took Mara’s soda.”
“What?”
“A few weeks ago. You took one of Mara’s sodas.”
Mara frowned, then remembered.
Kayla had admitted it immediately.
She had even replaced it.
I looked at Kayla.
“So, why could you tell Mara the truth, but every time I asked about my food, you told me I was forgetting things?”
Kayla’s expression hardened.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“It’s not that deep.”
“It became that deep when you started telling me there was something wrong with my memory.”
