The Taste of Redemption Read online

“Where do you want to start?” James asked when I sat down, his features tainted with concern.

  “I want to start making progress. Nick knows about everything. I kept it from him for so long, thinking he couldn’t handle it, but he’s okay. He’s stronger than I anticipated. I wish I had known that earlier. Maybe things would’ve been different now.”

  “Telling him was the first step you took in the right direction, Nadia. Now, step two—lose maybe if, if I had only and all similar phrases from your dictionary for the time being. We’re dealing with the past here. There’s no changing it and channelling your efforts into producing hundreds of scenarios as to how things would’ve played out if you changed one detail is a waste of time.”

  I closed my hands on the coffee, eying the Ficus Benjamina in the corner. It grew a little again, but I was no longer curious about how many leaves grew out of its feeble branches.

  “Your approach changed,” I pointed out. “You’re blunter. It’s nice.”

  He smirked, and nodded, a glint in his eyes. “That’s because you changed. Your approach changed. You understand that the only person responsible for the way you feel is you, and now you’ll make progress.”

  “If you want to change the world, start with you,” I said, picking on my nails. “I know all that, but I don’t feel like a fighter.”

  I shook my head, gritting my teeth. It was harder than I anticipated. All the courage I built myself up with on the way to his office deflated, and the scared little girl inside me tried to take the stage.

  Now or never. Let go of the blame, or let it eat you alive.

  “I feel defeated.” I blinked the tears away. “I realised Adrian can’t be saved, and I feel like I failed him, myself and Thomas.”

  When I parted my lips to speak again, I didn’t hold back. We chatted for hours. I had to recall the worst moments of my life and strip off the protective armour I had built, but I walked out of the office a little lighter.

  James was right—I changed. The way I saw myself and Adrian changed. And most importantly: my determination quadrupled overnight, all thanks to Thomas. I was determined to make him want me again, but before that, I wanted to be the girl he deserved.

  James had the whole morning available. It was quarter past noon when I left the building and strolled down the street, hiding under the large hood of my coffee-brown coat. Lunchtime in the city was pure madness. Businessmen crowded the streets, rushing with coffees in their hands and phones to their ears.

  I dialled Nick’s number to let him know that the car shopping trip had to wait until tomorrow. I had different plans for the rest of the day.

  Maybe it was silly; maybe it shouldn’t have been my first destination after arriving back in London, but I wanted to take care of my body.

  If you feel good in your skin, it’s easier to take care of the soul.

  Amelia ran out of the house when I honked. Her eyes betrayed how miserable the hangover made her. Bags under her eyes were an unusual sight, but a smile on her lips seemed genuine.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, buckling the seatbelt.

  “Beauty salon. Hairdressers. Shopping. We’re going to make me look the part.”

  “Yes!” She clapped. “That’s a brilliant idea. You know what they say: There’s lipstick even on the worst day.”

  It was trivial in the face of what happened, but looking good usually made me feel good. There was no harm in trying. At least I wanted to try, and that was more than I did for a year.

  We arrived at the beauty salon first. The girl was taken aback by my bruised face but got over herself quickly. After a set of facials that got rid of the bags under Mel’s eyes and breathed a radiant, healthy glow into our skin, it was time for the hairdresser.

  I drew a blank when a tall, slim guy who introduced himself as Jack asked me what I wanted. The most extravagant thing I did to my hair was cutting ten inches off two years ago. It still left me with hair up to my shoulder blades, though. Now it fell further down, the chocolatey brown colour was faded and dull.

  I glanced at Mel, looking for help. An excited Cheshire-cat kind of grin lit up her freckled, pampered face.

  “Hold on.” She held her finger up, tapping on the screen of her phone. “Do you trust me?”

  “I do, but if you make me blonde, I’ll shave your head.”

  She beamed, passing the phone to Jack. Approving smile on his face relaxed me a little.

  “Gina, cover the mirror,” he shouted over his arm to a young girl who was busy sweeping the floor. “We’re doing a surprise make-over. You girls want anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Wine, maybe?”

  “You have wine?” Mel’s eyes widened. “Yes, please.”

  Fight fire with fire.

  Gina covered the mirror in front of me with a black fabric, and Jack got to work. I had a mini heart attack when he took out the foils. Thankfully he was only doing highlights. A second colour went everywhere else.

  Mel convinced Gina, an apprentice, to give her a wash and blow-dry, but she was done over an hour before me. The moment Jack took the scissors, I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see how much of my hair was falling onto the tiled floor.

  Heavenly smelling mists, sprays, some blow-drying and curling later, Mel’s glowing eyes were the size of walnuts. Jack helped me out of the foils cape before he uncovered the mirror.

  The dull, ashen tint to my hair was replaced by chocolate brown with caramel highlights. It brightened up my face and accentuated the gold speckles in my eyes. I turned my head to the side, enjoying how light and bouncy the waves were, then gasped when I saw that half of my hair was gone. Jack cut it all the way back to my shoulders.

  I always wore my hair long, but medium length suited me better. It looked almost as if I should have been born with hair that length.

  “And?!” Mel squealed; her hands clasped together as if she were praying. “You look hot!”

  I chuckled, running my fingers through the soft waves. “I like it. It’s a dramatic change, but I think that’s what I needed.”

  Amelia jumped to her feet and hugged me, forgetting about my bruised ribs in all the excitement.

  “Sorry!” She moved away when I hissed. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine; come on. Make-up is next.”

  I thanked Jack, settled the bill, bought a few haircare products and made another appointment for February. Amelia hooked her arm with mine as we walked across the street toward a department store where we were going to get our make-up done. Maybe I would even buy expensive foundation to cover my bruises better than my current one.

  All in all, including shopping, we spent six hours making me feel pretty on the outside so I could make myself prettier on the inside. Whether it was the haircut, clothes or the big slice of hot brownie with custard and vanilla ice cream we had at some point, I felt in control of my own damn life for a change.

  I was done waiting for the light to flicker at the end of the dark tunnel. I was going to light that bitch on fire myself.

  CHAPTER 11

  NADIA

  I hate you

  Another sleepless night resulted in thirty more sketches. I hoped insomnia would give way soon, or else Nick’s attic was going to be filled with sketchpads and canvases that portrayed the darkest thoughts infesting my mind.

  I drew it all: bruises, anger, clenched fists, frowns and tears. I drew until my fingers were too weak to hold a pencil, and then I drew more. I went through six sketchpads during the two nights I spent at Nick’s and Mel’s house, but there were still hundreds of images I wanted to get on paper. It helped, somehow.

  Every sketch brought me an hour closer to feeling normal. There were still months, maybe years’ worth of thoughts, scenes and feelings waiting to be portrayed.

  Nick knocked on my bedroom door at seven o’clock in the morning. He poked his head in when I was finishing up with my make-up. Thanks to the overpriced, magic foundation, the bruises were invisible.

  Nick pushed the door
open further and showed me a cup of coffee he hid behind his back.

  “Good morning.” He brushed a few lonely locks away from my face, then placed the coffee next to a small mirror I was using. “Are we still on for car-shopping later?”

  “Yes. I’m going to see Dad soon, but I’ll be back around mid-day.”

  He moved some of my clothes out of the way to make room on the bed, a concerned, tired look on his face. As years went by, he looked more and more like Dad—perfect hairline, pointy chin, slim lips. They had the same eye shape and colour, and the one thing Nick took after our mother was the nose.

  I was the opposite. I looked like Karen’s carbon copy with an unnaturally symmetrical face, naturally plump lips and large eyes that made me look frightened half of the time.

  “Dad will listen, but he can’t answer, baby girl,” Nick sighed. “Talk to me; I’ll help the best I can. You tell Thomas more than you tell me.”

  I finished with nude pink lipstick and turned to face Nick.

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is. I heard you yesterday. Why do you trust him more?”

  “It has nothing to do with trust. I’m afraid to hurt you more than I already had. Thomas doesn’t take it so personally…”

  Nick scoffed. “Yes, he does. He just doesn’t let you see it. Is that what you expect? That I’ll act like nothing happened? How am I supposed to do that?!” He rose to his feet to pace the room but changed his mind before he reached the window. He crouched beside me; anger long gone. “I don’t want to pretend; and I don’t want you to pretend. I swear, sis, I’ll cry with you. Just let me in.”

  I entwined my hands on his neck and kissed his forehead, leaving some of the lipstick there.

  “It’s not Adrian who keeps me up at night.” I hid my face in the crook of his neck. “It’s Thomas. Leaving was the right decision for everyone involved. Adrian needed help, and Thomas deserves much better than me… But it doesn’t mean I stopped loving him.”

  “He’s hurt and doesn’t trust you, but he can’t stay away from you to save his life. I think he needs time, sis. You both do.”

  Nick hugged me tight, and I almost wept when I realised his proximity no longer alarmed me in the slightest. It was soothing.

  “I love you,” I muttered.

  “Not more than I love you,” he countered the way he always did.

  “Hey, what about me?!” Amelia entered the room and wrapped her arms around us, her wet hair in my face.

  “Okay, enough,” Nick chuckled. “You’ll ruin my shirt. I’ve got a meeting in one hour, and I need to get going.”

  “Not before you call Ty. He’s been blowing up your phone for ten minutes straight,” Amelia gave him the cell, sizing me up with approving eyes. “Nice jeans,” she chuckled, complimenting her own sense of style as she was the one who convinced me to buy them.

  Nick pressed the phone to his ear, taking a seat on the bed. Ty’s voice boomed from the little speaker and filled the air seconds later.

  “Finally! Where is Nadia? I need to talk to her.”

  I was on the move, hearing the anxious tone of his voice, but Nick rose his hand, stopping me mid-step.

  “About what? What’s going on?”

  “Adrian’s losing his shit. He knocked out two doctors last night, then jumped out of a second-floor window just to get to a phone so he could call her and apologise.”

  Amelia gripped my arm. Her warm fingers dug into my skin, and I wasn’t sure which one of us she was trying to keep in check.

  “He’s not talking to her,” Nick seethed. “Forget it.”

  “Just five minutes. Please. He agreed to be locked out of the world for three months in a psychiatric ward if he gets to apologise. I know you hate his fucking guts; believe me, so do I, but… Man, the methods they use in that facility will turn him back around. I know it. Please, if she doesn’t let him apologise, he’ll try to hang himself again.”

  A cold shiver ran down my spine. My heart rate accelerated faster than a cheetah, introducing fear as unexpectedly as a bolt of lightning.

  Hang himself again?

  I didn’t let Nick shield me any longer. I snatched the phone from his hand and bolted it into the bathroom. I turned the lock a second before Nick’s body thumped against the door.

  “Ty, it’s me,” I blurted. “What’s happening? What did he do?!”

  Nick banged on the door. I pushed my back against the tiled walls between the sink and the shower.

  “Girl, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry to drag you into this again, but this is the last time. I swear. It’s the last chance we have. He’s either getting admitted into a psychiatric ward, or he’ll do what it takes to die.” Ty spoke fast, as if he was running against the clock, and my heart pounded in my chest. “I guess Nick didn’t tell you, but Adrian tried to hang himself the morning you left.”

  My breath flattened itself like a child trapped in a dark space.

  “He’s better now…” Ty continued, unaware that his words sounded as if spoken through a bulletproof glass. “But he won’t agree to treatment unless you talk to him. There is no way of bribing the psychiatrist there. The methods they use… It has to be consensual.”

  “Okay,” I said without hesitation, shattering all over again at the news of another suicide attempt. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “No!” Nick yelled on the other side of the door. “Don’t do it!”

  “Thank you,” Ty breathed.

  His feet clapped against what sounded like a tiled floor. He was running, and Nick was throwing the weight of his body against the bathroom door. Then, the voice I knew so well sounded from the small speaker. All other sounds ceased to exist. It was just me, locked in the bathroom, and him on the other side of the Atlantic.

  “Puppet...” Adrian swallowed his own tears.

  Before I knew it, my face was wet, too. I inhaled a shaky breath, slid to the floor, and pressed my back against the cold tiles under the sink.

  “No, no, no,” Adrian whispered. “Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry. Baby, you shouldn’t be with me,” he uttered. “You deserve so much better than I can give you. You’re the best that happened to me, and I hate that I’m the worst that happened to you.”

  “Don’t expect my forgiveness,” I whispered, covering my head with one arm. I cleared my throat, plucking up the courage to say what had to be said for the sake of his sanity and my own. “Not until you’re truly better. I know the real you, Adrian, I know the guy who was passionate about life. You still have it in you. You just need to want to be that person again, but not for me. I’m not a part of your life anymore.”

  The sounds came back, and the moment of Adrian’s silence filled with Amelia’s pleas and Nick’s body thumping against the door.

  Adrian inhaled, and the way he did so, was a clear sign that tears were dripping down his nose. I watched him cry more times than I cared to admit, but today I couldn’t be manipulated. I broke free from the strings he held and took a rickety, insecure step forward.

  “You still care about me,” he uttered. “Why? I’ve done nothing but cause you pain, puppet. Why do you care?”

  “You’ll always own a part of me, Adrian. People we encounter leave something behind. They shape us into who we are. I am who I am because you crossed my path; and I know you can pull through. You will get better for your sake, because just like me, you’re a survivor.”

  The door burst open, banging against a tall, glass cabinet. Perfume bottles toppled over making a lot of noise. Nick kneeled before me, his eyes wide, chest heaving with the effort it took to break the door down.

  “I love you, puppet,” Adrian whispered, and before I could say anything else, he cut the call.

  I rested my face on Nick’s chest, smearing the perfect make-up over his impeccable white shirt. He didn’t mind. He drew me closer, stroking my hair while his heart pounded in his chest, not slowing down.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the suicide attempt?�
��

  Nick helped me out from underneath the sink. “I was scared you’d go back to him.”

  “I won’t. Not now, not ever again. I can’t help him. Just like no one can help me. Happiness and peace start within.”

  ***

  My Father’s grave was the one place I felt safe now that Thomas’s arms were no longer available. I arrived at the cemetery with a bouquet of lilies and spent thirty minutes whispering my truths. Dad deserved to know about Adrian just as much as Nick and Mel. He couldn’t hear me; he couldn’t console me, but I had to tell him, nonetheless. Including him in my life was a way of coping with his absence.

  December was no time to sit in front of a grave on a cold bench. The vast cemetery was empty, not a single person in sight. Most graves were dressed in artificial flowers, but some looked abandoned, and my heart squeezed. Many people chose to deal with grief by forgetting about the person and their death.

  I found it consoling to remember, to recall his smiles and love and the way his presence made my world a better place.

  I took a sketchpad out of my bag and drew the puppet I drew so many times before—a white dress, long hair kissed by the wind, and strings attached to her body. I sketched for a while, lost in thought, but my phone chimed before I finished. A text message from Thomas waited on the screen.

  Nick told me what happened. I’m here if you need me.

  A small smile curved my lips. I tapped the reply and pressed send.

  I stand on the line between giving up and seeing how much more I can take. Which way do I go?

  I pressed pencil to paper, waiting for his reply that would determine the final design.

  Up.

  Pencil scratched the paper again, drawing, shading and perfecting the sketch. An hour later, I tucked it in my bag, said goodbye to Dad, and drove to the city centre.

  A young girl with bright orange hair and piercings in her nose, lips and ears smiled at me from behind the counter of a tattoo parlour.

  “Hey, can I help?”

  I took the sketchpad, tore out one page and handed it to her.

  “I’d like this,” I turned around, pointing to the spot between my shoulder blades, “here. Can you do it now?”