Page 50 of Legacy of Deception

Her daughter leaned against the back railing, staring at her nails like they had answers to the world’s problems or at least hers. At her age, they probably felt like they were life or death, a sentiment I understood because I had been the same way when I had been entering my teen years. It was weird to think I could connect with a young girl in that way.

“Please stop staring at me.” Her voice was demanding, more than a hint of annoyance creeping through right before she shot her gaze over to her mother.

Yeah, I certainly didn’t think she was talking to me. She would have never noticed I had been looking at her from the corner of my eye.

“You’ll have to make up the test, so use the extra time to study the material,” her mother said, probably continuing an earlier conversation they had been having. I’d had those same endless conversations with my mother when I was young, her acting like a dog with a bone over topics I had no interest in spending five seconds on, let alone minutes or hours, as the case may have been.

It was easy to assume the girl felt similarly, not fond of the topic, considering the way she crossed her arms and rolled her eyes with enough attitude to have reality show producers in a frenzy. “I don’t need to.” She sounded adamant, and if she was anything like the way I had been, then that was because she needed a lot more than the extra time she had given herself. However, her mother wasn’t going to be the person she confided in about that.

These were going to be things I would have to deal with when they came my way. I supposed it would have served me right to have a rebellious daughter. Karma was one of the biggest bitches I knew.

Her mother unlatched her purse, shuffling around for something in there. “It can’t hurt,” she insisted, exhaling as she seemed to be struggling to find whatever it was.

Popping my last cheese cube in my mouth, I darted my eyes high to see the floor we were on now. This elevator ride couldn’t have ended fast enough. I felt a tad strange eavesdropping on a mother and daughter’s conversation, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. It was like this was my future, and I needed to see it play out.

A mother and daughter’s relationship was one of the most complicated because you wanted to be able to tell them everything, but you also wanted them to be happy with the little you were willing to give them. You never saw everything they did for you, and by the time you did, you were older and didn’t need your mother. Only, maybe that was how it was meant to be all along.

Hopefully, I’d have a son.

She shrieked, turning to her mother and narrowing her eyes. “It won’t hurt as much as this ear infection, but it will still hurt. Trust me.”

“You won’t study, you won’t take your medicine.” Shaking her head, she pulled a piece of paper out of her purse, nearly crumbling it in her hand as she held onto it and shut the purse.

“That medicine is pink, but that’s where the coolness about it ends.”

The paper must have been a prescription for the medication.

“It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t know.”

Folding my bag neatly, I held it in my hand as silence befell us. A miracle I should have been grateful for. Especially considering we were almost at the main floor, and I would be able to go my separate way from them. Although, a tingle in the back of my head told me I had to try to help. If for no other reason than to see if I had what it took. Although, I seriously doubted it. “I do,” I chimed in without giving it a second thought.

“Excuse me?” her mother questioned, pinning me with a glare, and I felt sweat prickle on my neck.

Maybe it wasn’t my place, but I had already made it known that I obviously had something to say about their back-and-forth. “I know what she’s talking about,” I explained, swallowing as I felt entirely out of my element. My eyes roamed from the woman to her daughter, and I tried once more. “I had my fair share of ear infections.”

She perked up, shoving off the railing and deciding to stand on her own two feet. That in and of itself was progress, in my opinion. “Really?”

I nodded. “Mmhmm.”

Slapping a hand on the side of her leg, she clacked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “So, you get it.”

That was all someone her age wanted anyway—to feel understood. I knew the feeling well and still felt it. “Unfortunately,” I said, realizing a little sympathy seemed to be all that was needed. “The only thing worse than the ache is the taste of that stuff.” I had been the worst patient. I’d hated not feeling well—still didn’t like it actually—and I had detested the disgusting medicine I had to take to feel on the mend. Grape. Blue raspberry. Bubblegum. It didn’t matter because none of it tasted like any of those flavors.

They all tasted the way I imagined acid or bleach would but mildly masked with something that was supposed to be appealing. Although, it never was. The epitome of smoke and mirrors.

She scrunched her nose and toyed with the tassels on her jacket. “It makes me heave.” As if to punctuate her point, she gagged.

I cleared my throat. “Try plugging your nose and making believe it’s something else. Anything else.”

Shrugging, she gave me a puzzled expression, her brows drawing together so much so it made the appearance of a unibrow. “Like what?”

I thought hard about how to answer that. Why was she putting me on the spot? Didn’t she know I wasn’t a mother yet? I had no idea how to talk to her as was evident from this conversation. “What’s your favorite snack?” I asked, hoping that helped.

She raised a brow in the way only a young girl full of attitude could to convey judgment. “Not cheese.”

Chuckling, I peered down at the empty bag. Being judged by a young girl…ironic. “Fair,” I said, choosing compassion.