It’s the tea, she thought, looking at the iced beverage her mother had served to her. Although it was different than the herbal blend her mom had been serving her each morning—which she’d also become convinced tended to make her drowsy—it seemed that soon after she had taken a few sips, her need to sleep had become more acute, like a pressure weighing on her brain.

After dinner, she intended to help her mother clean the kitchen, but she couldn’t summon the energy. She was struggling to keep her eyes open.

“You need your rest, child,” Grace said. “Relax, I’ll attend to the dishes.”

“It’s barely eight o’clock in the evening,” Monica said. “I’ve slept all day. I’m sick of sleeping. All I do is eat, sleep, and feel miserable in general.”

“That’s a natural condition when grieving the loss of a loved one.” Grace came behind her chair. She kneaded Monica’s shoulders. “You loved Lily so much. You loved that little fur ball Duchess, too, and now, sadly, they’re both gone. It’s going to take time to adjust, dear.”

Her mother’s hands seemed to have magical properties, as they eased the tension out of Monica’s muscles. The unfortunate result was that Monica felt an even greater wave of drowsiness pull her down.

“I’ve got to get the children settled for bedtime,” Monica said thickly.

“Nana will take care of the children. Let’s get you to bed.”

Monica didn’t remember making her way upstairs. It seemed that she closed her eyes for only a minute. When she opened them, she was lying in her bed, alone, wearing her nightgown. The nightstand lamp glowed at the dimmest setting. The clock read 8:47.

I’ve got to tuck in my kids, she thought with a sense of painful urgency. What kind of mother have I become, sleeping away the days and nights and barely attending to my own children?

Rising out of bed was like climbing out of a pool of quicksand. Her heavy limbs didn’t want to obey her brain’s commands to move. She gritted her teeth and forced her body to cooperate.

Trembling, forehead pebbled with perspiration, she finally got off the mattress. She felt light-headed. She sucked in several deep breaths, centering herself.

Slowly, she made her way across the bedroom, and out into the hallway. Ahead, the door to Junior’s bedroom was partly open, light streaming from within. Lexi’s door was shut, the frame outlined with shadow.

Her mother must have been preparing Junior for bed. Monica shuffled to the doorway, pushed the door open.

Grace sat on the rocking chair in the center of the bedroom. Junior sat on her lap wearing his Spiderman pajamas. Grace’s blouse was unbuttoned, her hand cupping the back of his head, pressing his face against her bosom.