After a while, though, Mom tires. She becomes agitated, twisting and turning in the wheelchair, making strange squeaky noises, drooling. She looks scared, so I release the catch on the wheel and push her out of the room and down the corridor. I’m happy that I came here today, happy I had that moment with Mom.

Leaning over the back of the wheelchair I whisper, ‘Like the song says, we’re drifters, Mom.’

The corridor is much cooler than the overwhelming heat in the family room so I decide to push the wheelchair around for a bit to cool myself down. When I find myself outside Dr. Reilly’s office, I see a notice stuck to her door.

Clinical Trial. Information meeting in progress.

What’s that about? Shit, I’m probably supposed to be there. I must have missed the email, or maybe it went into my spam. Though I don’t see how, I have been extra careful to read everything since Detective Turner ordered me to monitor my social media. I think I better go in and see what’s going on, explain that I didn’t get the notification. I don’t want her to think I just didn’t bother to show up.

By now Mom has fallen asleep, her head tilted to one side, her breath slow and shallow. The blanket has slipped slightly, so I tuck it in below her legs and straighten her head. Then I move the chair against the wall and press the lock on the wheel.

Tapping on the door doesn’t elicit an answer so I knock a bit louder. Still no answer. I open the door and stick my head through the gap. The room is in darkness and everyone is staring at the screen on the wall.

Dr. Reilly is sitting sideways on her desk. There are four other people in the room, all facing the screen. No one turns around at first, but when I open the door a bit wider, Reilly slips down off the desk and walks towards me. She instructs the four women, all of whom are about my age, except for one who looks a good bit older, to continue watching. I step back and wait for her to come out.

‘Rebecca,’ she says looking confused. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I didn’t get any notification about this,’ I say, pointing at the sign.

‘That’s because I didn’t send you any.’

‘Oh.’ Now I feel like an idiot. But then I think, why? Why didn’t I get any notification?

‘Is this not the clinical trial I signed up for?’

Reilly seems nervous, like she doesn’t know what to say. She assumes a forced smile.

‘I wanted to talk to you about the trial in person, Rebecca, but I didn’t get a chance.’

‘Well, here’s your chance. Talk to me in person now.’