chair.
“Just the past,” the old woman said, sniffling.
“Well, that’s why you take these pills. Right?”
A small sob caught in Mammi’s throat.
Not wanting to cry again myself, I offered to retrieve a glass of water. I stood and headed to the kitchen, taking deep breaths as I went. When my emotions were once again under control, I returned with glass in hand and told Ada to go ahead and finish making the tea, that I could handle things in here.
“Thanks,” she replied, handing me the pillbox and giving her grandmother’s arm a pat.
As she returned to the kitchen, I sat down, popping open the lid on the section of the pillbox that had been labeled for Wednesday mornings. Inside were five pills. I recognized a blood thinner and high blood pressure medicine. The other three were the same—all tranquilizers—and a dosage that was way too high. For a moment I considered palming two of the pills instead of giving them to her, but I decided it wasn’t my place to alter her meds even if I did have her best interests in mind. I gave her the pills and then the glass of water, thinking it was better that I have a talk with Ada and explain my concerns directly. She would just need to think of a way to convey that information to Klara without getting herself in trouble for having let me in here.
I could tell from the sounds coming from the kitchen that the tea was almost ready, so I called out to Ada, telling her not to bother with a cup for me because my time was almost up.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” she called back. “But you’re probably right.”
While she was still out of the room I took Mammi’s hand in mine and told her I had to leave now but that I would come back again soon.
“Yes, please,” she replied, her eyelids already beginning to droop from the medication.
“Until then,” I whispered, giving her hand a squeeze as I stood, “I want you to think about my questions. I want answers. I need information.”
Despite her encroaching drug haze, Mammi held on to me tightly, even after I tried to let go. Then she surprised me by grabbing my wrist with her other hand and pulling me toward her, obviously wanting me to come closer, much closer. I leaned down, expecting a kiss to my cheek. Instead, she put her lips to my ear.
“Burke Bauer,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Burke Bauer,” she repeated, slurring this time.
Then her hands relaxed, releasing me. By the time I pulled back far enough to see her face, I realized that her eyes were closed, her jaw slack. As Ada stepped into the room carrying the teapot and two cups on a tray, Mammi let out a loud snore.
“So much for the tea,” Ada said, her steps faltering. “She will probably be conked out for hours.”
“That’s because she’s overmedicated,” I said, running a hand through my hair and trying to recover from the shock of the woman’s words. Had that been the drugs talking? Or had she just whispered in my ear the name I had been seeking, that of my birth father?
“What do you mean?” Ada asked, setting the tray down on a nearby table.
“I mean, she’s getting three times the amount of tranquilizers she should be getting,” I explained, hoping that Ada wouldn’t notice the array of emotions that were swirling around inside of me. “In fact, she really shouldn’t be on tranquilizers at all. There are better medications for stroke victims than that.” I went on to explain that besides being addictive, they weren’t long lasting.
“But she cries all the time if she doesn’t have it.”
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to focus on the matter at hand.
“Then she probably needs an antidepressant. The tranquilizers are just making her sleepy, not to mention affecting her balance. In my opinion, her doctor shouldn’t be prescribing it at all.”
“I’ll tell Mamm,” Ada said. “Perhaps I can say I read an article or overheard a conversation or something.”
I reached the door and hesitated, my hand on the knob, knowing there was one more matter she and I needed to discuss, one I could only approach head-on.
“I was thinking you and I should have a DNA test,” I said to Ada, glancing toward Mammi to make sure she was still asleep. Regardless of what the old woman had just told me, there was still a chance that Alexander was my father. If Ada and I