“Hospital?” Grace paused in the midst of buttering a biscuit. “Why would you want to go to a hospital, dear?”

“I’m sick. Good Lord, isn’t that obvious? Look at me.”

“Watch your tone, child.” Grace shot her a warning look. “I am your mother.”

“Everything hurts, all I do is sleep, and I look old. I look older every day. I feel older every day.”

“It’s simply the change, dear.” Grace poured hot water into a tea cup. “These are the things that happen to a woman as she ages. It’s the burden we bear. Fortunately for you, I’m here to help you through it.”

“I’ve picked up a disease, some sort of rare illness.” Monica dragged her fingers through her hair. “I need to be in a hospital.”

“Those dens of medical malpractice, those incubators of germs? Going to such a place is exactly what you do not need. You’ll get back in bed and have some tea, and you’ll eat this wonderful breakfast I’ve prepared for you.”

She came to Monica and grasped her by the elbow. Monica tried to pull away her arm, but it was like trying to escape a robotic claw.

Grace’s eyes simmered like smoking embers. “Behave, child. Don’t test me.”

“I want to go to the hospital!” Monica said.

The back-handed slap came so quickly Monica didn’t see it coming. One moment, she was shouting at Grace. The next, she was on the floor, the right side of her face burning and the salty taste of blood filling her mouth.

She hit me? I can’t believe this woman hit me. Lily never hit me like that when I was a kid.

Grace stood above her, bosom heaving, hands clenched into fists.

“You earned that, dear,” she said. “I warned you to behave. I’d expect this sort of petulant behavior from a child like your daughter, not a grown woman.”

A loose tooth rolled around like a pebble under Monica’s tongue. Sitting up, her face throbbing, she spat the bloody tooth into her hand. It was another molar.

“I’ll knock out every tooth in your mouth if you dare to defy me again,” Grace said in a tone as cold as a January wind. “I’ve beaten grown men to a bloody pulp in my time. Now, get up.”

Monica got up. It was a struggle, and Grace didn’t come forward to assist her. She had to grab the nearest bed post for balance. Her stomach pitched, and she felt as if she might vomit, but she choked down the reflex, grimacing. She didn’t want to give Grace the satisfaction of seeing her sick.

“That’s my girl,” Grace said with a hard smile. “You’ve got some spunk in you.”

Monica glared at her. Grace matched her glower, hands still knotted in fists, as if to say, try me, girl, and see what happens.