Serena took Alicia’s phone out from her bag, and the wallpaper glowed to life. A plate of delicious tacos. If only this mall served food this good. She knew Alicia’s password, because she was her mother, and had her fingerprint registered.
But should she use it? If she did, she could see what her dear Alicia was up to, and find patient zero. Yes, Vinn had a bad influence, and the girl was lonely, but that wasn’t the full answer. A sixth sense only mothers had told her there was a final piece left to this puzzle. She might be wrong, but there was only one way to find out.
Plus, nothing to fear, nothing to hide, right?
She hovered her thumb over the scanner. All she needed to do was to press it. It could be a brief glance. A quick scroll to find glaring red flags. With the abysmal state of her memory, it was unlikely she’d remember it, anyway. It would take less than a minute.
Technically, this phone was hers to begin with anyway, since she bought it.
Everyone voted in favour of perusing. Cheryl had this anecdote to share: After a look through Zack’s phone, she discovered he had a girlfriend in class, resulting in his sudden insolence. However, thanks to her gamble, she quashed it in time and set her boy back on track. Now, he is doing better than ever.
Cheryl also had an analogy. To perform CPR, all clothing must be removed from the patient’s chest. There was no time to respect their privacy.
It was for Alicia’s own good.
She pressed the screen. It unlocked. Quick glances only, she told herself. No suspicious apps; a good sign. The girl only had chats with her teachers, and her class group chat. Her contacts only listed her family and teachers. No classmates. Where were her friends? And most importantly, where was Vinn?
The new CCA was the right move.
Then she found the red flag she feared most in the girl’s search history. Cheryl was right. ‘What is nicotine?’ , ‘What does nicotine taste like?’, ‘What other substances contain nicotine?’. The devils of the internet poisoned her girl.
Thank god she confiscated it.
She scrolled further back, past the queries about tacos. A timeline formed in her mind, starting from these search results to when Alicia smoked. It all happened in a month.
It got worse: ‘Kaplan Higher Education Academy’
‘Business course Kaplan’
‘Nursing course Kaplan
‘Nursing course Kaplan student list, 2000.’
‘Kaplan student drug addict article, 2000’
‘Kaplan directions, google maps.’
He had infected Alicia.
How deep did this go? She went into her gallery, scrolled through all her photos. Went into voice memos, which were empty. Went into emails, found nothing but spam. Went into ‘Notes’, found nothing, checked the ‘Bin’ folder, and she cracked the case.
It was a diary addressed to him where Alicia wrote about her day as if chit-chatting with him. A day before the incident, she asked him what cigarettes tasted like. .
Did she send these? To who? Him? That’s impossible, because after he left, he vanished like a ghost. No contact from him to anyone, not even his beloved family. To a scammer pretending to be him? Would that dupe Alicia? Was Alicia that gullible?
She was a smart girl. Yet, she often wasn’t. Serena knew her too well to rule out that possibility.
She checked Alicia’s emails to find spam again: advertisements, promotions, school announcements…
Nothing in her ‘Spam’ folder. Nothing in the ‘Bin’ folder. Nothing under any other tabs. She checked Alicia’s call log: only calls to her and Ms Lee. The girl was clean. Too clean.
There were only two plausible answers. One, Alicia outsmarted her, and kept this channel of communication secret, which meant the girl saw this coming. She expected her mother to snoop on her phone. Did that say more about Alicia’s guilt, or hers? No time to think about that.
Two, she didn’t send these to anyone, yet. She was saving it for the day she finds him. Either way, this was an emergency. Thank god she listened to Cheryl.
She took a photo of all the evidence and presented it to her only ally at her appointment: Wei Xiang.
In the heart of a mall overdue for demolition, his tiny clinic stood tall. This angel of a man was the closest thing to a father Alicia ever had, and the girl adored him. She loved the check-ups, the chatting, and the herbs in his office. Sometimes, she slept better on the examination bed than on her own.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
The only thing the girl hated was the mall. Metal grills locked the stores in the shadows. The lights flickered and buzzed so loudly that it warranted concern. Yet the napping security guards gave no such concern.
It was a horror film. One that Alicia dared not watch.
The worst amongst them all was the barbershop, which had rows of mannequin heads staring into their souls, deciding if they were to be haunted, or left alone. Serena was ashamed to admit this spooked her, too.
She brisk-walked through it and made it to his clinic before they floated off the shelves.. ettling down, instincts led her palm on a tiny cushion used to check pulses.
“How was work?” He asked.
“Shut up.” She said in mock outrage. He chuckled.
“What is it this time?”
“I don’t know. Probably walked too fast when going to the general office to get Alicia.”
He did the check-up routine: Pulse, normal. Blood pressure, a little high. Exercising, none. Eating healthy, trying her best. Triggers to use again, none.
Then the elephant in the room. He placed a finger on it. She yelped.
His eyes shot wide.
“Ouch! Why did you press it so hard? Are you trying to kill me?” She complained, massaging the pain away. It was like being injected from the inside out, without anaesthesia.
He pressed her hand with the strength of a firm handshake.
Gulp. She looked at the floor.
“I’ll find time to jog, okay? I promise.”
“Is Alicia still doing chores?”
“She’s beginning not to.”
“Why?”
“Teenagers.” She sighed.
He placed a hand on her shoulder, then swivelled to his chair and typed on his keyboard, which sounded more like a typewriter. No, this did not signal to him it was time for an upgrade.
She recalled the second elephant in the room. “I have something I need your help with.”
“What is it?”
“Here.” She showed the photos to him. Studied his face.
His lips pursed. Lines formed on his temple. His eyebrows went up and down.
He handed it back. “Did she send it out?”
“How could she? He disappeared.”
“So, she didn’t?”
“Or! She’s getting scammed. But I looked everywhere, and I can’t find anything. Do you know if there’s some app that can send messages in secret or something?”
“How are you so sure that she’s sending this to someone? Maybe she just uses it as a diary. Nothing wrong with that.”
“She’s also been trying to search for him again. And if it’s just a diary, why address it to him? And why delete it?”
He looked through Alicia’s phone too. Search history, text messages, emails, call log… That same pit-of-the-stomach dread crept over him.
“Can you help me talk to her about this?”
“Why can’t you ask her yourself?”
“She trusts you.”
“She trusts you, too. And this is your private family affair, Serena.”
He placed his hands up. Swivelled back to his desk to receive the prescription slip from the printer. Also in desperate need of an upgrade.
“I don’t know how to talk to her about… him.”
He passed her the slip and more painkillers. She took one and flashed her puppy-dog-eyes at him.
“This Saturday.” He said reluctantly.
She bowed profusely. What a lifesaver.
“What else has been going on with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Besides work… Anything else going on?”
“Like what?”
“What have you been doing besides work?”
“I don’t know. What is there to do?”
He leaned back, giving her that look, as if she was a starving child in Africa.
Ugh, as if she needed the reminder.
“I’ve been trying to learn the guitar lately.” He said.
“Do you know how expensive guitars are?” She knew what he was doing.
“Tsk…” He gave her the other look. The I’m-talking-to-a-wall look. Sometimes, the glass was half empty. Sometimes, Fate won. That’s life. But to those which Fate favoured, that’s stubbornness.
The room fell silent.
“If you need help—”
“I can handle it.”
“Yi Shan…You don’t have to live like this.”
If only she lived in a world where that was true. If only he knew such a world was impossible for people like her.
“You can’t make me unless it’s a code red. We shook on it.”
He definitely had a lecture ready to go, but spared her.
Everyone would find their life’s ceiling one day. Fate would slap them in the face and put them in their place. No, she would not become a doctor. No, she did not have time to learn the guitar. No, Alicia won’t stop being a teenager.
It was a rude awakening at first, but over time, she grew to know it like the back of her hand.
It didn’t surprise her that Alicia had not signed herself up for a CCA yet. In fact, she already took a form herself before, and filled it for the girl on the way home. Table-tennis, every Friday, three to five. Alicia threw a tantrum, but she had no time to entertain it. The girl only had herself to blame.
She, meanwhile, only had time to laze on the couch with the TV on. A random thought came to mind: Why did Wei Xiang used guitars as his example? Why not make it more relatable and suggest baking? It was her family tradition, after all.
Ah, who cares? She went to sleep.