Page 124 of His to Bedevil

“From the beginning.”

She sets her glass down and clasps her hands in her lap then faces me. Her dark hair hangs just past her shoulders, and she has filled out some. At least from when I saw her last, almost thirteen years ago. She looks healthy.

“I was always kind of a rebel. A wild one. My parents could never get control of me. Do you remember how I met your father?”

I nod. “He was vacationing with friends in Cuba. You fell in love and left with him for Miami when his vacation ended.”Let’s get on with it.

“Yes. I was always impulsive like that. I’m not sure what you remember of him, but he wasn’t the best man. Obviously not something I discovered until it was a little too late. He drank a lot, and when we got pregnant… well, I guess that part doesn’t matter.” She pauses to take a deep breath then continues. “Anyway, after you were born, I didn’t know it at the time and only uncovered it recently through therapy when I was in rehab, but I had postpartum depression. Many women suffer from it, and most go undiagnosed. Between the depression and being a new mother in a new country, with a man who only took care of us out of obligation, it only got worse.

“The years went on like that, and most days it was a struggle to get out of bed. You were the only thing that kept me going. Your father loved to drink, but he also liked to dabble in pills. I never once tried it until the day your father finally drank himself to death. I saw his pills, and I just took one. Needing to know what the fuss was all about, I guess. Along with being impulsive, I was always a little reckless and too curious. I felt so alone and scared. My parents begged me to move back home, but I just didn’t want to be around them. I felt like I had totally disappointed them as a daughter, and I couldn’t handle that. Not with being so vulnerable and weak. So, that’s when it really all started. I kept taking the pills because they would numb me. Once the effect of those started to wear off, I tried something stronger, and so on until it completely consumed me. I was selfish and so weak. I never deserved to be your mother.”

Tears are streaming down her cheeks, but I do not take pity on her. “Why didn’t you ever try to get help?”

“I didn’t even realize I needed it, Irma. Honestly, I was so blind to my downfall. I thought I was okay until the day you were taken from me. I was arrested, and since I was in jail without my drugs, it was the first time in two years I was sober. I wanted to get clean so bad. You have to believe me. And one day I eventually did. I was only sober for a week, but I had done it all on my own and thought I could be a mother to you. That’s when I came to see you outside of your new school. I knew I could do it for you. At least I thought I could.”

“But I told you to fuck off and you turned back to drugs,” I assume, feeling guilty, and I hate it.

She nods sadly. “Even with you, though, I would’ve gone back to drugs without the proper help.” She wipes away the tears. “Even when I was so high off of who knows what, I always thought about you, Irma. I swear. I didn’t just forget about you. Drugs really do change you. They control you. They had a stronger hold on me than you did, unfortunately. Every time I tried to get clean, it was always for you. And I did try. I tried so many times. But I just couldn’t do it.”

“What made you able to do it this time? What makes this time different?”

“When your husband came to me with his offer, it was the best one I had ever been given. The only help anyone has ever offered me, actually. He told me that even if I completed the program and stayed sober, it wouldn’t guarantee being able to see you. That it would still all be up to you.”

“And if I refused to see you, would you have gone back to using?”

She immediately starts shaking her head. “No. I’m sober not just for you, but for me. I want this. I have never felt so healthy in my life. Not just physically, but mentally. I take medicine for depression and anxiety now. Something I probably needed right after I had you. If I would have been properly diagnosed all those years ago, I might have never started taking drugs. And you would have never been taken away from me.” More tears pour out, and when she says this, all I can think is that I never would have met Alejo. I am just as selfish and obsessed as he is.

I nod. “Okay.”

We sit there in silence for a moment as I process everything. For some reason, I believe everything she says. I almost forgive her, even. The mind is a powerful thing, and although I have never experienced drug abuse myself, I don’t live under a rock. Depression and addictive narcotics are a recipe for disaster.

“Have you talked toabuelaandabueloat all?” I always wanted to reach out to them, but they have never reached out to me since I was still with my mother, so I thought they just didn’t care about me.

“I talk to them regularly now. They’ve even come here for a visit shortly after I settled in.” I nod my head and stay quiet. “They always ask about you, Irma. They were a little upset to know that you’ve been living in Cuba and haven’t tried to visit them at all.”

My eyes snap to hers. “Why would I? They never once tried to visit me after I was taken from you,” I practically sneer, feeling the rancor deeply rooted inside of me surfacing.

“Irma, they did try. You have to remember that the system can be messy, and your grandparents hardly speak any English. And I was no help either. They did try,flaca.” She grimaces when she realizes she threw my old nickname out there. “They even saved up enough money to come to the States to find you, but again, they don’t speak much English, and no one would help them. I was so lost in drugs by that time, I didn’t even know who they were.”

“I had no idea,” I say quietly, on the verge of tears. My grandparents came looking for me. They cared. After all these years of thinking no one loved me.

“Irma, they say that you’re married to a very dangerous man. I only know what he’s done for me, but they are very concerned. They say Alejandro is a drug lord and that he even deals illegal weapons,” she almost whispers to me.

I snort. “That’s all true.”What would be the point of lying?Her eyes widen in shock and horror. “But he’s not dangerous toward me. He loves me and protects me. He treats me like a queen.Hisqueen.” I smile at the mere thought of him.

She nods her head. “You were never like me in that sense. Even as a little girl, you were so strong and guarded. Like you were built for a tough life. Like you could predict the future or something.” She rolls her lips in as if deep in thought. “If you say you are not in danger with him, I believe you.”

Speak of the devil, there’s a knock at the door.

I smirk at the fact that he waited exactly twenty minutes. I’m actually surprised he didn’t come any sooner. Alejo has great self-control, but he is not a very patient man, even though he claims to be. He’s too used to getting exactly what he wants.

Mama opens the door, and she immediately backs up to let him in. His eyes are already locked on me, assessing me as if to make sure I’m not hurt in any way. He walks in and heads right toward me, taking a seat next to me and putting a possessive arm around my waist.

“Alejandro, can I get you something to drink?” My husband apparently scares the shit out of Mama, and I can’t help but bite back a grin as I stare at him. His eyes are still locked on mine. He’s never scared me, even when he tried to. He’s always excited me.

“No,” he clips, then takes his eyes off of me and finally looks at her. “You look good, Benita,” he says, lacking emotion.

I see her cheeks turn a little pink underneath her tan skin. “I am good. Thanks to you. I could never thank you enough.”

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