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Over the next several days, Talia felt like she was stuck in a loop: get up, go to school, come to the apartment, work on her makeshift detective board that she constructed using a trifold presentation board and sticky notes, eat dinner with her father, go over the detective board again, sleep, and wake up in the middle of the night because she thought too much about her detective board. Any other activities or hobbies she normally would carry out as part of her daily routine came to an abrupt stop; learning more about The Foot and what her mother did for them became her top priority, especially after the discoveries made in that drug lab and about the powder (Raph had graciously shot her a text reporting Donnie's findings).

So here she was, sitting at the kitchen table and adding new details to her detective board with a sharpie. She would also go back to her notebook and cross-reference notes to make sure everything lined up. But if there was one spot on her board that made her brain go in circles, it was 'The Ricky Yao' case.

Everything about it made sense and didn't make sense at the same time. It seemed like such an open-and-closed case, and nothing suggested there was anything 'hinky' about it like April said, so then why? What made her mother think this particular case was anything special?

Talia propped her elbow on top of the table and used her hand as a resting support for her forehead, feeling the stress compounded with lack of sleep finally hitting her. She was also feeling pretty faint, so she gobbled up a couple of almonds from her almond jar beside her. Sitting down somehow made her feel even more lightheaded, but it was better than standing up and then collapsing to the floor.

Talia looked at her board once again, frowning when her eyes laid on her mother and Priya's photos. They were women whom Talia admired and looked up to her whole life— her role models! They were everything she aspired to be— beautiful, strong, confident, and making their mark on the world. But in light of what had to come to pass. . .

No. . . Just because they lied about their affiliations and actions, did not mean all the life lessons she learned from them were not a lie, right? The love they had for her and their criminal activities were not mutually exclusive, right?

She laid her head down on the table. Why couldn't she piece anything together? What was she missing here?

As much as her eyes were already exhausted from skimming over the same words and pictures over and over again, Talia forced herself one last time. Drugs? Ketamine? The secret informant? There had to be a reason why—

Talia lifted her head in realization. The informant. . .

That's right! It was because of the informant— or much rather the information they provided— that the police could finally pin something on Hun and send him to prison. Maybe that was why her mother was interested in the case in the first place! Maybe she (somehow) figured out their identity and went to them for further questions. It was the best possibility Talia could come up with.

Talia suddenly thought of the night she, April, and Raph were on the rooftop. How as soon as April talked about the case, Raph began acting squirrelly— defensive. Why would he if he had no personal connection to it whatsoever? Unless. . .

Talia shook her head. Now her head was really thinking outside the box here. The only way for that assumption to be true is if—

Jangle. A twist. Creak.

Shoot! On a rare day like this one, her father had come home earlier than usual. She couldn't let him see her board or notes or anything relating to The Foot, so she frantically closed everything up and took out an algebra II textbook and a blank notebook and tried to make herself look like she was studying when she heard the door close.

"I'm home, Dewdrop!" Her father announced. When he came into view, Talia saw he was carrying a take-out bag, making her stomach grumble. She hoped her father brought fried tofu. "I thought I would bring dinner from this new restaurant specializing in Israeli cuisine and—"

His sentence ended there. Looking sideways, Talia saw her father staring at her weirdly. Talia put on her best studying face and brought the textbook closer to her face; if she didn't sell her act ten seconds ago, she certainly did now.

"Why is your textbook upside down?"

That question made Talia realize her little mistake. She flipped the book the right way and chuckled awkwardly. "I've worked my brain so hard that it is forgetting you can't read upside down! Silly me."

Her father locked his gaze onto hers for a minute. After wondering whether or not he would buy it, he set his briefcase and coat aside and nodded. Talia silently exhaled a breath of relief.

"We should attend the shul for the Mincha on Shabbat," her father said, taking a seat and setting the plastic bag on top of the table. "It's been a while."

Talia and her parents always went to the services as a family, trying to keep their religion intact while also assimilating to this new country and its culture. Talia was not in any way super religious, nor did her parents enforce their religion on her (it was a different story when she was a little girl, but as she grew older she was given the choice), but she still believed in it. She knew her father probably feared she would lose touch with her religion and culture if she became too 'Americanized', but she assured him that no such thing would happen. How could she forget her own roots? It was like forgetting her entire identity.

Since her mother was murdered, Talia and her father hadn't been going to service much lately. But if they were going to get through this, they needed a little hope on their side; they needed hopes and prayers.

"Okay." Talia nodded.

As her father started to say the blessing for the meal, Talia stared at the lit candles on the table, watching the small flames pulse and wobble as if they were losing their balance. Today she was fortunate to have her father across from her, but who could say she would be granted the same luxury tomorrow?

***

Drowsy. Heavy. Weak.

These were all the feelings Talia felt when she slowly opened her eyes. Everything was blurry at first, her eyelids struggling to stay apart. She fell in and out of consciousness between her thoughts of confusion, and it felt like a chore to even move her finger. What was this? Where was she?

She heard a muffled voice in front of her. All she could she was a blur of a person, but as to who it was? She had no idea.

The muffled voice spoke again. A car engine roared to life.

Through the window, Talia saw the outline of what appeared to be a building. The building had lettering across the front (or what she thought was the front), but her blurry vision made them look like blobs of hazy red— clumps of jell-o. During the minute that she waited, the most she could make out was 'crossroads.' She didn't know what to think of it, but that word was all she thought about before she slipped into darkness once more.

***

Talia woke up again, but this time she was blinded by a strong light, causing her to pull something over her head— a blanket. Her eyes then shot open. A blanket? She sat up and noticed all the familiar decorations— the vanity table with a lighted mirror in the corner; the several framed quotes about positivity and history hanging from various spots on the wall; the crème shelves cluttered with books, a world globe, and several souvenirs she brought from all the countries she had visited; and of course, two matching pink beanbag chairs.

What other room could this be other than her very own? Talia peeked under the blanket and saw how she was clothed in one of her many button down silk satin pajamas, which only made her wonder: how did she even wind up here in the first place? Wasn't she supposed to be with her mother?

Her mother. . . Her mother!

"Imma!" Without considering how faint she would feel after getting up too quickly, Talia jumped out bed and dashed for the door. Was her mother okay? Did she make it home?

The door opened before Talia reached for the doorknob. A petite woman with ash-colored hair pinned back into a low ponytail and round-shaped eyes stood in the doorway, holding a tray that held a tea set and an assortment of plated food. This was Olga, longtime maid of the Elbaz family and Talia's daytime sitter when her parents had to fulfill their roles to their demanding jobs. But Talia never liked reducing Olga's status in the house to merely a 'housekeeper' or 'full-time nanny'— Olga was way more than that; Olga was a friend.

"Olga! Do you know where my mother is? She and I were spending some quality time and then I wake up here and. . ." Talia faltered, suddenly feeling faint. She brought a hand to the wall to stabilize herself.

"Miss Talia!" Olga set the tray down on the nightstand and helped Talia back to the bed. "Be careful, or you might hurt yourself."

Getting a scratch or a bump on the head was the least of Talia's concern. For now she wanted an explanation. "I am fine, Ola. I just need to know where my mother is."

"She is downstairs, Miss Talia," Olga replied in her thick European accent, "waiting for you to wake up. You should stay here while I go tell her the news."

"Please, Olga, I've asked you to just refer to me as 'Talia'," Talia said, shaking her head. "We're friends, remember?"

Olga cleared her throat. "Sorry, Mi—I mean, Talia. I forget. Your mother will be pleased to see you up. Please do eat something in the meantime, though. I will be back."

At the end of her sentence, Olga turned on her heel and left. Talia looked at the tray of prepared food and saw her options: a protein smoothie, chia pudding with nut butter, green yogurt parfait, and Shakshuka— poached eggs smothered in a spiced rich sauce consisting of tomatoes, olive oil, garlic, onion, and peppers. Talia almost instantly frowned. It wasn't like she was unsatisfied with the food (on the contrary, she wanted to scarf it all down in one bite if she could), but these were all dishes she would normally eat during breakfast. Why would Olga. . .

"Habat Sheli," someone said in Hebrew.

Talia turned away from the tray and noticed her mother and Olga entering the room. Her mother looked relieved when she saw Talia and ran to give her a big hug. The action surprised Talia a little, but Talia hugged her back nonetheless, feeling all her worries disappear.

"You are okay," her mother murmured, wringing her fingers through Talia's curls. "You are okay. . ."

Talia furrowed her brow. Her mother was acting as if she (Talia) had a close-call in some near-death accident.

"Olga," her mother said, moving on to cradling Talia's cheek. "Would you leave us alone for a moment, please?"

Olga complied, leaving the room again. Genesis sat down next to Talia, looking at her daughter with every once of motherly love she carried within her since the moment she first held her in her arms. "How are you feeling?" Genesis asked.

"A little tired," Talia said. "But hungry, too. Imma, why did Olga serve me breakfast if it's only the afternoon? Also, why am I in my night clothes? Did I fall asleep during our trip?"

Her mother took Talia's hand into her own. Usually, Talia could always look at her mother's face and tell exactly what she was thinking of, but right now her mother's chin was lifted and her eyes were nearly slit open. Everything about her expression was the definition of complex.

"You fainted during the ride, Talia," her mother explained. "Your red blood cell levels were severely low— I know, I checked. I didn't want to risk your safety so I brought you back here."

Talia frowned. Sure, she's had some fainting spells come and go as part of her (temporary) medical condition, but ever since switching up her diet to a more protein-based one, she had her anemia under control. Or at least, that's what she thought.

"I. . .I don't remember anything," Talia said. "How long was I out for?"

Her mother didn't say anything. Talia thought she wasn't listening and repeated the question. Genesis reacted and answered, "Twenty hours have passed, Talia. I wanted you to rest. I already scheduled an appointment for you tomorrow— just to see if your iron deficiency has made any progress."

Twenty hours? There was no way. But Talia checked the time on her phone and it read: 10:35am. She tried to remember the last time she had a fainting spell this severe, but her brain came up empty because apparently this was the first time. It was very odd, to say the least, but the only thing she found even odder than that was. . .

"Imma, does the word 'crossroads' mean anything to you?" Talia asked. Her mother frowned, wiggling the tip of her nose. "I saw it before I passed out and I thought—"

Her mother slid her glasses off her face, sighing. "I'm not even sure what you're talking about, Talia. You were probably imagining it."

"I don't think I was. I may have been half-conscious, but—"

"And that's exactly what you were: half-conscious," her mother agreed. She stood up, putting her glasses back on. "You can't trust anything your brain thought it saw. That's all it was: a figment of your imagination."

Talia had a feeling that it wasn't, however her mother's confident and assured look perhaps increased the rationality behind that statement. After all, her mother was the expert when it came to vast knowledge over how the human body worked. She knew exactly what she was saying. Why should Talia question her credibility?

"Maybe you're right. . ." Talia considered.

"Do you trust me, Talia?"

Her mother, whose dark curls fell over her face and contrasted her smooth, olive skin, slightly turned her head to look over at Talia. That was all Talia needed to do— trust her. Trust her in her words, in her actions, and trust that the last thing her mother would do was anything that compromised the line of trust and safety between a mother and daughter. And wasn't that a mother's main goal? To protect her child from harm?

Talia smiled, grasping her mother's hand. "I do."

Her mother returned the smile and dropped a kiss onto the center of Talia's forehead, smoothing out any of her flyaways. "I will never let anything happen to you. Remember that."

Talia recoiled.

She opened her eyes. Goggling at her overheard glow-in-the-dark stars, Talia tried to catch her breath for the first few seconds before managing to calm down. Another memory?

Talia slid off her bed and walked over to the window, opening the shutters and allowing her face to feel the cool night air as she felt the sweat from her nape and forehead evaporate. The moon was as full as ever, partially covered by a few clouds.

Talia remembered that memory with great vividness— it wasn't a big a deal, to say the least. Just another day where her and her iron-deficiency anemia battled each other and unfortunately, her anemia turned out victorious. After that little incident, Talia never thought to put much thought into it; her mother saw no need to discuss about it, either.

Until now, that was. 'Crossroads. . .' Why now was she only thinking about that word? It didn't mean anything.

Talia stroked the petals of her orchid flower. So far, she's had two memories— both happened not too long ago; both instances involved her and her mother. However, one 'memory' she had no recollection of; this one she could recall every word that was exchanged. Was her mind all of a sudden interested in time traveling to the past to revisit 'old' memories?

She suddenly went back to her bed, turned on her lamp, bent down, and grabbed her 'work-related' notebook from underneath the bed. She took a stray pencil from her nightstand and scribbled something down quickly. She squinted her eyes at the word she wrote: Crossroads.

It bugged her for some reason. But it was a reason she was going to find out why.