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Her dad.
“Whose arse would I kick?”
Turning to the side, I finally catch a side view of the woman whose photograph I’ve spent the past three days studying. Her eyes stay trained on her daughter, giving me plenty of time to take in her auburn hair. It’s still as long as it was back when the old picture was taken, which, if I had to guess, was before I was born. There are some soft lines around her eyes, but other than that, she hasn’t aged a day.
“Hi, Ma!” the receptionist greets. “This young woman here was looking for Dad. I was politely telling her he’s married to a badass. You know, just in case she was trying to swoop in on him.” She winks at her mam, and the easy banter between the two makes me miss my own.
“Beibhinn, what have I told you about messing with the customers?” Finally, the woman turns to face me. “I’m sorry about my daughter, she can be a bit…Saoirse?” Her hands fly towards her mouth, covering her shock. She takes a few steps forward and then grips my cheeks between her palms. “Oh, my lord. Saoirse Ryan. You’ve got so grown up and so beautiful. You look just like your mam when she was your age.”
Frozen in place, I stand as she peers around me.
“I wasn’t expecting you both for another few weeks.”
“Wait, what?” I question her statement. “We were coming here in a few weeks?”
A deep V mars her brow. “Yes, darling. Éanna wanted to wait until you turned eighteen because of, you know, family reasons.”
I want to scream at her that no, I don’t know because my mother never told me a goddamn thing about anything. I didn’t even know these people existed. I don’t, though, because I can’t seem to formulate any words after this revelation.
“Where’s Éanna, anyway? Is she here with you, or did she head straight to the house?”
I don’t know whether it’s exhaustion, the weight of untold truths, or just plain grief, but my tears break free out of nowhere, as do my words. “My mam,” I cry out, “is gone!”
