The Taste of Redemption

by I. A. Dice

  “Now? No, you need an appointment. I’ve got one next Tuesday.”

  “I’ll pay you double if you can do it now. Please, it’s important.”

  She glanced at the sketch again. “You drew this? It’s good.”

  “Can you do it?”

  A smirk crossed her red lips “Of course I can do it, but it’s going to cost you, sweetie. Three-hundred.”

  I placed my credit card on the countertop, making her smile. We spent over an hour in silence while she transferred the sketch onto my skin. Just when we were about to finish, my phone started to ring. I ignored it, but whoever tried to reach me, was pretty persistent.

  “Answer it, it’s driving me insane,” the girl said.

  Nick’s face flashed on the screen. “Where are you, sis?”

  “Sorry, I should’ve sent you a message. I’m running a little late. Give me half an hour, okay?”

  “Sure, I’ll see you soon.”

  The clock on the wall showed twenty past twelve in the afternoon when the tattoo artist finished. I stood with my back to a large mirror and held a smaller one in hand to see the masterpiece. It looked amazing and was going to look even better once the bruises faded.

  To my own surprise, my emotions were in check when I parked outside of the C&G Records building and exited the car. I expected the news of Adrian’s attempted suicide to take a toll on me at some point, but apart from sadness twisting my stomach, I was coping well.

  Thomas leaned against the side of the smoking shelter, a phone in hand. The air was chilly with soft snow falling from the sky. It melted under my feet, leaving small wet marks on the ground. It wasn’t cold enough for snow to stick around longer than a second or two.

  Halfway across the carpark, I stopped, my heart picking up pace when a petite blonde with chin-length hair approach the smoking area. She wore boyfriend-type jeans, cute white pumps and a thick, denim coat. Oh, and the most beautiful smile on her red lips.

  She rounded the glass shelter, jumped to hang herself on Thomas’s neck, pressing those red lips to his for a sweet kiss. She moved away, beaming, her smile so genuine it touched her eyes, surrounded by black rims of trendy glasses. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the way she caressed Thomas’s face, and toyed with their interlocked fingers made me want to curl in a ball and cry.

  But I couldn’t move, mesmerised by the girl.

  She was perfect—long eyelashes, immaculate skin, and blue eyes glowing with happiness. She emanated the kind of positivity I struggled to muster.

  “Nadia!” I heard Nick yell behind me.

  Thomas spun around first. Our eyes locked for a moment, but I couldn’t hold his gaze. I turned around, watching my step, because the ground seemed to shake underneath my feet.

  “Ready?” I asked my brother, the heels of my boots clanking too fast. “I’m not hungry; can we buy the car first?”

  Nick frowned, looked over my shoulder and a knowing look crossed his face. “You have to eat, sis. There’s a great little place just around the corner.” He draped his arm over my shoulders, leading me toward the car. “You good?” he muttered into my hair.

  “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  The lights on the Range Rover flashed four times. I jumped into the car, closing the door behind me as if the devil was short on my tail.

  Nick took the driver seat, put the car in gear and let the tires squeal when he shot out of the parking space, speeding past Thomas. I didn’t dare look in case I would find the blonde goddess stuck to his lips.

  “Was that Chrissy?”

  “Yes.”

  I rested my forehead against the side window. “She’s stunning.”

  Nick squeezed my hand, then took a packet of cigarettes out of my pocket. “This once, you can have one in the car.”

  As if one cigarette could heal my once-again-broken heart.

  CHAPTER 12

  THOMAS

  Sinners

  The look on Nadia’s face outside of the C&G records fucked with my head all day and most of the night. She saw Chrissy kiss me, and I had a good idea of what she must have felt. I experienced it first-hand when Adrian kissed her head a few weeks ago.

  Still, I didn’t have it in me to tell Chrissy we were destined for failure. I clung to the idea of moving on from Nadia, even though it meant putting myself through torture… Even though it went against my nature, needs, wants and feelings.

  Maybe it would be easier to face our issues if I didn’t know the truth. If she went back to help Adrian because they were good friends, I could understand her reasoning, but she went back knowing he could hurt her.

  She had to love him to sacrifice being with me and progress she made.

  And that was what I struggled with most—that she loved the guy who battered her more than she loved the guy who healed her.

  You couldn’t fucking write this shit.

  Maya giggled, dancing around us in circles while I sat with Nick by the lake feeding them whatever they wanted to eat in this cold weather. Since not many birds were around, Maya lost interest five minutes in, and the task fell on mine and Nick’s shoulders.

  “We need to get going, sunshine. Your mummy won’t be happy if we’re late for tea again.” I got up from the cold ground.

  “No, I want to see Melia!”

  “She’s out with my sister, princess. You’ll see her next week, okay?”

  Maya pulled a sad face, shaking her head. “I want Melia to braid my hair like last time. Please, please, please.”

  I chuckled, when Nick took his phone out to call his wife. He would make a great father, but his kids were going to walk all over him. God forbid he had a daughter first, before he could learn how to say no.

  “Hey, how long will you be?” Nick asked Mel. “Good, I’ve got one impatient little girl waiting for her hairdresser. Hurry up.”

  Maya clapped, jumping up and down when Nick cut the call.

  “They’re almost here. Come on; I’ll make you a hot chocolate.”

  I stayed behind, lit up a cigarette, and made my way to the front of the house, determined not to let Nadia lock herself in her bedroom without talking to me first.

  Less than five minutes later, Nadia’s brand new, white Audi A1 parked next to Nick’s Range Rover. Mel jumped out of the passengers’ seat, rushing toward me, bags with shopping dangling from her wrists.

  “Hey, sorry, we lost track of time.” She pecked my cheek as a form of pause. “Where’s my little model?”

  “She’s inside with Nick, probably putting flowers in his hair.”

  Mel chuckled. “He’s such a softie. Maya could easily convince him to play dress-up.”

  I looked over her shoulder, watching Nadia struggle to take out a large canvas out of the boot.

  “How is she?”

  “Why don’t you ask her?” Mel pecked my cheek again and walked inside to braid a crown on Maya’s head.

  Nadia approached with the canvas in hand, holding it the other way around so I couldn’t see. She looked better, the bruises invisible under the concealer, but the sadness in her eyes was somehow clearer.

  “You cut your hair.”

  “Sometimes, a little change makes a big impact. I thought it might be easier to change how I feel if I changed how I look.” She propped the canvas against her legs to take a cigarette out of the packet. “Have you found the answer to my riddle yet?”

  “Not yet, why?”

  “I have one more.”

  She turned the canvas over and fell silent, giving me time to take it in. The left side was dark, creepy, full of harsh lines and what looked like haunted faces carved in the tall, sharp rocks which surrounded a small clearing. A dark silhouette of a man stood there; his hand outstretched forward.

  The right side was soft and bright, with a beautiful waterfall and white, polished pebbles. A rope bridge stretched across, but most of the planks were either broken or missing. In the middle of the bridge, on one of the few stable planks, stood a girl in a whi
te dress.

  She looked down, facing the bright side, and the remnants of ropes that used to tie her to the puppeteers’ hand shimmered in the air, kissed by the wind, reaching half-way toward the man waiting in the darkness.

  She was taking a step forward, her hand outstretched toward the light, but the next safe plank was too far to reach. There were enough undamaged planks on the bright side for someone to walk across and reach out, to take her hand and help her cross, but no one waited on the polished pebbles. She was alone; darkness reached further than light.

  God, how many more ways would that girl find to break me?

  “I thought long and hard whether to give this to you.” Nadia broke the silence, butting the cigarette on the driveway. “Especially after I saw you with Chrissy…”

  I took a step forward, then another, and one more, until I stood less than two feet away. The smell of her perfumes lingered in the air, doing weird things to my mental state.

  “About that. Chrissy is…”

  “Gorgeous,” Nadia cut in, surprising me with a genuine smile. “Cute and happy, and the way she looks at you? That’s what I wanted for you all along. We’re scarred and bruised in our own special way, but you deserve to be happy more than anyone. Chrissy can make that happen.”

  She handed me the canvas and rose on her toes to peck my cheek, rendering me speechless. The softness of her full lips on my skin filled my insides with something warm, thick and sweet.

  “Letting you go was the best thing I could’ve done for you. You don’t need more pain and suffering.”

  My jaw worked; the warm sweetness gone. “You had no right to choose what’s best for me.”

  “No, I didn’t. But I chose not to be the worst.”

  She walked away, cutting the conversation short. We were nowhere near done airing our dirty laundry, but with Maya around, it wasn’t a good moment to talk, and I let Nadia walk away.

  I glanced at the canvas again, at the girl in a white dress making her way across the destroyed rope bridge toward light; toward me.

  She hesitated and lost her way.

  The painting was brutally honest; it portrayed her deepest fears and regrets in a beautiful harmony. It hurt to see there was no one waiting for her on the other side, but it was true.

  I wasn’t waiting. I moved on.

  Or I tried to, at least.

  Nadia had no idea how wrong she was about Chrissy. The sweet smiles and positive attitude were refreshing, yes, but I had no connection with that girl, no emotional bond.

  I stood in the middle of the driveway with the large painting in hand, and a head full of impossible choices, until the door to the house opened after I smoked two cigarettes.

  Nick gawked at me from the doorway. “Are you lost, sir?” he joked, waving me over. “You might want to see this. Your girls look like twins.”

  I made my way to the BMW to put the canvas away, then jogged back to the house. Maya sat on the kitchen table, her feet dangling in the air, with a beautiful, braided crown on her head. She held Nadia’s hand, playing with her rings, giggling whenever Nadia—wearing an identical braided crown—tickled her under the chin.

  “Look, Thomas!” Maya exclaimed, spotting me in the doorway and pointing from Nadia to herself. “We have the same hair!”

  “You look beautiful.” Both of you. “Good job Melia. Now, let’s get going, sunshine. Your mummy won’t be happy with me tonight.”

  Maya’s eyes widened. “Will she yell?”

  I smirked, helping her into her pink coat. “She never yells at me.”

  “If she does, you just have to make a sad face and say you’re sorry. And hug her. It works for me.”

  Every time, if I might add. She pulled that trick on me whenever she had the chance. I turned to Nadia before we headed out.

  “You didn’t give me a new riddle, baby doll.”

  She looked up, no trace of the confidence she showcased moments earlier. “I can be given or earned but never bought. I’m sought by the sinners, but saints need me not. What am I?”

  Funny how it was the easiest riddle, yet the hardest thing to give.

  CHAPTER 13

  NADIA

  Not yet

  James took the week before Christmas off work. Well, almost. He planned to spend the time with his wife and daughter but allocated two hours every day for our sessions.

  He sorted through my meds, this time adding instead of removing. Once I told him about the lack of sleep, he put me on Lexapro for the anxiety and swapped my sleeping pills from Estazolam to Temazepam.

  A firm “no” was his answer when I asked for Xanax. Little did he know Adrian’s psychiatrist wrote me a prescription, but there wasn’t much left.

  We started to dissect Adrian’s behaviour and his power over me, but we hit a roadblock on Tuesday during a last-minute late-afternoon session. James couldn’t make it into the office at ten am and rescheduled to four pm. I liked it better. It gave me something to look forward to.

  James was adamant that Adrian’s issues were born before he started using drugs, saying that PCP just escalated the jealousy he couldn’t control.

  “He never laid a hand on me until he started using.”

  “But he was always jealous, Nadia, you said it. The fights you used to have were getting worse every time.”

  “The fights weren’t the issue.” I pulled on the hem of my black, turtle-neck jumper. “All couples fight.”

  “Yes, but he was manipulating you, and that’s why you forgave him time after time. That’s why you stayed and why you went back when he asked you to come. That’s why you will go back again if he does something reckless.”

  “I won’t. He already did something reckless, but I’m still here.” I grabbed my bag. “Our two hours are up. We’re done for the day. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  Adrian’s suicide attempt didn’t hit me as strong as it did the first time around. I pushed the worry and blame aside, not wanting to dive back into the pool of regret. I pressed forward, ignoring the moments of weakness, too afraid to fall apart. I pressed forward, away from Adrian, and everything my mind associated him with.

  Thirty minutes later, I pushed the door to the cottage open. A smudge of light from the TV in living room danced on the floor. A news presenter’s voice broke the silence, and Nick walked out of the room, a smile on his face. A strong smell of cologne reached my nose—a mixture of cardamom, cedar and bergamot with a hint of lavender.

  My mind and body ceased to work in an instant. My heart raced, sounds muted. A black void appeared before my eyes. I rested my back against the wall, and my legs gave in.

  I slid to the floor, covering my head with my hands, rocking back and forth to stop the walls from closing in.

  Adrian’s face emerged from the void. A sweet, affectionate smile curved his lips. “You’re my everything, puppet.”

  Anger flared his nostrils. “You fucked him?!”

  Scenes changed fast. A projection of the best and worst moments of our relationship appeared before my eyes. Each still, and short clip was interrupted by a loud click as if someone operated a vintage filmstrip projector inside my head.

  Adrian’s hands on my face with our lips working in sync. His hands on my neck and thumbs digging into the skin, cutting off my air supply.

  Humiliation. Love. Hatred.

  Our hands interlocked. His fists clenched. Love in his eyes.

  “Until my last day, until my last breath, you will be my whole life.”

  Dilated pupils. Whispers. Screams.

  “You think I’m fucking stupid?! I know you’re sleeping with him!”

  His bedroom lit up by candlelight. Adrian’s hands caressing my naked body. Bruises, split lips, black eyes.

  “You were with Ty, weren’t you?! Fucking whore!”

  His tears. My tears.

  “I’m sorry, puppet. I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave. I need you so much. I can’t do this without you.”

  Bouquets of red roses.
Orange prescription bottles.

  All those times he pushed me to the floor, then pushed again, and again when I tried to get up. The way he held the door open and pulled my chair out.

  Smiles. Eskimo kisses. Nosebleeds. Hugs. Broken ribs.

  The last time he held me close all night. A rope wrapped tightly around his neck. My fight. His struggle. My limit.

  Then, a shift in my fear. Strong hands on my face, in my hair, on my arms. Firm chest behind my back. Something cold in both of my hands. Wet, round, smooth. Ice.

  Warm fingers forced my palms to close. He placed my right hand on my left side, close to the heart, and left hand on my right arm. The smell of his cologne, and warmth of his body filled the void.

  “I’m here,” Thomas whispered into my ear, his voice penetrating the maddening isolation. “You’re here with me, baby. Now breathe in.”

  “Now breathe in,” he whispered, inhaling in sync with me through his nose. He tapped his index finger on my palm four times before exhaling through his mouth. “Remind yourself who you are, and where you are.” He bent down to kiss the nape of my neck. “And then recall this moment—my lips on your skin; the sound of my voice; the way your body relaxes under my touch.”

  Thomas held me in a tight, firm grip, tapping out the rhythm of our breaths on the palm of my hand while I focused on the way his body felt against mine, the pace of his heartbeat, the softness of his skin.

  We took seven deep breaths before I felt tears on my cheeks. Three more until I felt myself tremble. Another five before I noticed the time on his watch. It was seven fifty-two in the evening.

  The clock on the dashboard showed quarter past seven when I parked the car. I lost half an hour. I lived through my share of panic attacks, but none of them lasted half the time.

  “Give me five things you can see,” Thomas muttered, pressing his warm cheek to mine. “Five things.”

  My eyes fluttered open. I started with the things closest, adjusting to the brightness. “The floor.” My throat was dry, voice coarse. I swallowed, and my gaze moved further away from the safety cocoon Thomas had me wrapped in. “My bag… Your keys. Nick. Amelia.”