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No.
I can stop this train of thought.
It’s an impulse that doesn’t define me anymore.
“Get that shit away from me,” I growl at Eda threateningly.
I try to imagine Arnie’s face when he told me he was going to stop drinking with me.
The way my sponsor held me when I told them I was five years clean.
The unending, nonjudgmental support of my sister.
The woman who sacrificed everything to keep me safe, even if it meant lying to me and losing my trust in the process.
“Give it back to me then,” Eda challenges softly.
She’s calling my bluff.
She knows I’m clean.
She knows I’m strong enough to do it.
There’s too much at stake right now for this.
She knows this.
She knows that I would prioritize my escape over anything she has to offer.
So why is she asking?
I grit my teeth.
“I said, get it away from me.”
Because despite my words, despite all rational thought, I can’t stop staring at the bag.
Something inside me stirs, a feeling I’d long forgotten and yet immediately embrace like an old friend. It fits me well, like an old jacket, warming me against this wretched cold.
“You look practically ravenous, darling.” Eda’s crone-like voice pierces through my fantasy. “Have some, you deserve it. After everything you’ve been through, it’s the least I can do.”
Never in my life have I ever felt such overwhelming self-hatred than when I heard her words. Because a dark, broken part of me agrees with her.
Haven’t I been through enough?
Haven’t I suffered enough?
Eda’s grin spreads across her face like the Cheshire cat. “I sense you’ve already made up your mind.”
“Get. That. Away. From. Me.”
She pretends to consider it. “It’s rude to reject someone’s gifts, Roisin. I thought I taught you better than that.”
My anger battles with my self-loathing, causing my body to shake uncontrollably. Or is it the cold?
Eda looks down at me in disgust. “Pathetic.”
With that, she turns on her heel and marches herself out the door.
