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At least it makes Eda stop in her tracks. “Your brother invited me here. We’re in the middle of negotiations for a mutually beneficial relationship,” she explains. “You remember? Your father and I had something similar.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Don’t what?” she asks curiously.
“Remember.”
Her eyes widen in shock. “Not at all?”
“But I know enough,” I say hastily, piecing together the hazy memories and the warnings from my sister. “I know you’re the reason I left New York.”
Eda’s eyes begin to brim with tears. “Is that what they told you? Oh, my darling…”
“It’s true though, isn’t it? You were there that night,” I push, more for my own clarification than accusation.
“I never knew you were taking the drugs,” Eda whispers as tears begin to fall down her face.
Several things click into place at once. Eda, my father, what Arnie said about the cartel… “You were my dad’s dealer. You’re the one who gave him the drugs.”
“The cartel was his supplier, yes,” Eda confirms. “Everyone knew he would sample the wares before he sold them on. But you were so young, I never thought he would allow you access.”
Flashes of crystalized, white powder fill my head. For the first time in a long time, something begins to itch in my brain. Something that started with the small dose of ketamine Arnie gave me the other day.
“You were there, though, weren’t you? That night?” I shake off the thought. “The doctors say the overdose gave me amnesia, but sometimes things slip through.”
“I was the one who found you, Roisin,” Eda explains, desperation tinging her tone. “I called your sister, but she blamed me for everything. I know why. I shouldn’t have continued to sell to your father, knowing he was struggling with his own addictions. That is my fault and you can’t imagine how sorry I am about that. But you have to understand, it was my job, and I never would’ve sold him a single gram if I’d known the truth.”
As she speaks, she takes smaller steps forward. I draw up my knees to my chest, holding myself into a tight ball.
I have no idea what to make of Eda. Of her story. So much of that night is clouded by the drugs; it’s impossible to know if she’s even telling the truth. But I remember her face so vividly, and it’s already been proven how much I don’t know about my family.
Her expression softens as she watches me. “You know, you always used to sit like that when I came to visit.”
I look down at myself awkwardly and try to spread out a little more.
“It’s fine.” Eda holds a hand out to stop me. “If you’re comfortable, please don’t move on my account.”
“You visited my father a lot?” I ask, a little bitterly, as I cross my legs instead.
“More so after your mother died,” she replies with a nod. “You girls were just devastated and it was hard to stay away sometimes.”
Eda becomes almost bashful as she looks at the space next to me on the bed. I shuffle to the far side to allow her to sit.
She smiles when she turns to look at me, “I remember you were far too cool to approach me at first. You thought I was just some boring old lady who was hanging out with your dad. But you were stubborn, and that was something we had in common,” she says with a knowing look. “It didn’t take long for you to see how similar we really were.”
Eda pauses and I flinch under the intensity of her stare. It’s as if she’s searching for something, orsomeone, that’s no longer there.
“I don’t think I follow.” I try to shake her gaze by looking away, but I can still feel it burning into my cheek.
“I lost my daughter many years ago now,” she confesses quietly. “I understood your grief better than anyone.”
She goes to place her hand on mine. For a moment, her clammy hand lies on top of mine, but I pull it away.
Swallowing, I get off the bed entirely. “I don’t need you to do that anymore.”
Eda sighs, looking up at me from her perch. “I suppose you don’t. You’re all grown up now,mi hija.”
“So why are you here?” I cross my arms to conceal my shaking hands.
