Chapter 4

The moment I said it, Kevin started remembering too.

And I wasn't wrong. To make her schizophrenia look like it had been building for a while, Frieda really had done plenty of strange things this past month.

Like insisting she was cold with the air conditioner running, and pulling on a down jacket.

Like punching in the code for the eighth-floor unit below when we lived on the ninth.

Or mistaking Kevin for his father, who'd been dead for years.

That was exactly why, in my last life, Kevin had believed her so quickly.

So he nodded now too.

“It's true. You've been really off lately, Mom.”

“Why don't we go to the hospital and get you checked. If something really is wrong, you'll have to be admitted for treatment.”

I nodded.

“Right. Otherwise it's laxatives this time, but what if next time it's poison?”

“Mom, tell the truth. Has something been wrong with you lately?”

This had been Frieda's plan all along, but now she didn't know whether she should own up to it.

If she admitted it, this whole thing would be over.

But if she admitted it, Kevin would surely send her to a psychiatric hospital, and that ran completely against her plan.

I'd made Kevin eat that boxed meal for two reasons. One, so he'd taste a little of what I'd suffered. Two, so he'd have no reason left to keep taking Frieda's side.

So Frieda gritted her teeth.

“How could there possibly be anything wrong with my mind?”

“Don't tell me you hate me, and you want to lock me up in a psychiatric hospital?”

Inwardly, I smiled.

That was exactly the answer I wanted.

So I shook my head at once.

“Mom, you've got me wrong. I don't think your condition is a mental illness. After all, your mind is clear right now.”

“I have a guess, though I don't know if I should say it.”

Kevin was in no mood for me to drag it out. He pressed me a few times, impatient, and only once his patience had run out did I speak.

“I think Mom's condition looks more like... she's been possessed.”

As I said it, I lowered my voice.

“You both remember, not long after Mom moved in, an old woman passed away over in the next neighborhood. In her last few years her mind was all muddled, a lot like Mom's symptoms.”

“So I suspect Mom might have picked up something unclean.”

Kevin didn't believe it.

He even seemed to think I was the one with a mental illness.

But Frieda's eyes lit up. Being possessed, being touched by something unclean, was a lot more useful than a mental illness.

She could have an episode whenever she liked, and recover whenever she liked. The only drawback was that she couldn't take early retirement. But not taking early retirement, compared to living in a psychiatric hospital, was a lot easier to accept.

So she nodded at once.

“Yes, that's exactly what happened!”

“When I was cooking, I felt like I couldn't control myself. I knew perfectly well it was laxatives, and I put them in anyway.”

“I don't need the hospital. I'll go to the chapel tomorrow, find a folk mystic. I'll definitely get better.”

I forgave Frieda right away, even made a point of hugging her and saying a few comforting words.

But Kevin still didn't believe it.

“Stop this nonsense. Mom has a mental problem, plain and simple. Possessed, not possessed, don't go spreading superstitious garbage here!”

I frowned.

“I know you won't believe it. But I believe even less that Mom would ever try to hurt us!”

“And I have a way to find out for sure whether Mom's been possessed or has a mental illness!”

Kevin and Frieda both pressed me at once.

I didn't explain. I glanced at my phone, then turned and opened the door.

Someone was standing outside.

And the instant she saw who it was, Frieda's face went dark.

Forgetting everything she'd just said, she stammered out her explanation.

“Kevin's right, I do have a mental illness. I'm willing to be examined, to be admitted, to be treated.”

“I really wasn't possessed. I'll confess, I'll confess everything...”