While my mum never hunted during my lifetime, she always had access to this physical power, manifested in her sharp teeth. After she lost her final one, though, she became kind of confused. And, when I think about it, it makes sense—for in our teeth is an ability to end life, which also means that every day when we do not, we are exerting the power we have to preserve life. With her teeth gone, so went my mum’s identity as a vampire who chose to not use them. After she had dentures put in—soft-edged porcelain teeth cast from a human’s—she became more likely to forget who she was and imagine she was a human. She wandered out of the house on numerous occasions, sometimes looking for a rubber plantation near her childhood home in Malaysia, and eventually, a good-natured man out walking his dog who noticed her watching cars with a look of alarm on her face called an ambulance for her.

I resent my mum for many things. When she lost her teeth, but I still had mine, she told me that I must be sinning without her knowing, because otherwise God would take my teeth too. Nonetheless, the thought of her leaving the house one day, getting lost and not coming back—the thought of never seeing her again—is too much to bear. So, I found this home for her, a place where I can keep an eye on her, without having to have my life restricted by her. But maybe it was a mistake.

“Hello, are you there, Lydia?” Dr. Kerr says now.

“Hello.”

“Sorry for the wait,” he says. “Now, we don’t normally allow family members to speak with residents for at least a week after they are admitted—”

“Yes,” I say. “It’s okay, I don’t really mind that.”

“Actually, we have been discussing your mother’s case here, and myself and the other clinicians feel that, as your mother is having some difficulty getting used to life here, and since this is new behavior from her, it might be best for her to speak to someone familiar, if you would be willing?”

“Oh,” I say, trying not to sound disappointed. “Okay.”

“Very good,” Dr. Kerr says. “When would be convenient for you?”

I look down at the puppet. She’s lying on her back on the floor with her arms out to either side of her. The way the shadows are falling on her face makes it look like she is smiling very slightly. I turn away from her. “Day after tomorrow?” I say—a day I’ve been asked to go into the gallery in the afternoon; in the morning, I could walk down to the river, find a bench, and call Crimson Orchard from there.

“Okay, I’ll meet you in the waiting room. Would you be able to make it here for ten-thirty?” Dr. Kerr says.