She pushed open the door and strode in. The room was decorated in earth tones, including a lovely brown hand‑woven carpet, which had Indian symbols in it, probably Navajo. The bed was a single, but it was faux Early American, not a hospital bed. Again the place felt more like a resort than a research institute.
Nina was sitting up, leaning against the headboard, and wearing blue silk pajamas underneath a white bed coat.
"Mom, how're you feeling? You look great."
It was true. She was wearing a lull complement of makeup and her hair looked like it'd been newly washed. Whatever else was going on, the Dorian Institute was making sure patients looked their best. Do they have a beautician on staff ? she wondered. Also, there was a sparkle in her mother's eyes that she hadn't seen since before her father died.
"How does it look like I'm feeling?" Nina reached for the remote and muted the sound from the TV
Yes, that old twinkle is definitely there.
"Gee, I have to say that you seem a lot better than you did yesterday." It was true, thank goodness. She was having one of those supercogent days.
She laughed deep and resonant. "Ally, you have no idea. He started in with the injections yesterday evening, after you left. When I woke up this morning, I could remember everything that happened yesterday. I even remembered why I was in this strange place. Try me. Ask me something and see if I can remember it. Go ahead. Ask me anything."
"Okay." She thought a moment. It should be something easy. "When was Dad's birthday?"
"March twelfth." She didn't even hesitate. "You'll have to do better than that."