The Taste of Redemption

by I. A. Dice

  “Hey,” I cut in, “it’s okay. It’s what I wanted for him all along. He deserves to be happy with someone without the ugly baggage I carry.”

  “Am I the ugly baggage?”

  Adrian asked, and my heart rate picked up its pace. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his dark eyes full of sadness. It was December, but he didn’t seem to feel the cold, parading around the streets in a hoodie as if it weren’t close to zero degrees Celsius.

  “Hey, I didn’t hear you come in.”

  He came closer and sat down beside me, waving at Mel and Nick, then pecked my temple.

  “You didn’t answer my question, puppet. Am I the ugly baggage?”

  “No, my past is. My issues are.”

  He didn’t buy it.

  “Should we like… go?” Mel chirped, trading glances with Nick.

  “No, finish what you were talking about,” Adrian insisted, the tone of his voice almost normal.

  Almost. He could fool the world, but I knew him too well to believe that the mentioning of Thomas didn’t hurt him. We hadn’t talked about him too much. Adrian had no idea how serious it was. I protected him from distressing information, afraid that he would slip.

  “Nadia said you’re getting back in shape with all that boxing stuff,” Mel lied, offering a smooth change of subject.

  “Did she now? Well, my coach has a different take on that. He says I’m so out of shape that it’s quite sad, but it didn’t stop him from setting up a sparring match for this weekend. It should be fun for Nadia to watch someone smash my face.”

  Liar. Adrian was unstoppable, but regardless of his form, I couldn’t watch him fight. It took two weeks before I allowed him to come near me after he massacred Jax’s face. Seeing him throw the punches with such precision summoned memories of every time those punches were aimed at me.

  Nick brightened up and took the laptop from Amelia, setting it on his laps. “Can you stream it for me? If I remember right, the last time I watched you fight, the guy didn’t hit you once.”

  Adrian shrugged, looking at me with a smile. Mel’s eyes widened. She was looking in the direction of the living room door, and I just knew that Thomas arrived with his new girlfriend—a tall, blonde, blue-eyed model material for sure.

  “When you’ve got your girl in the audience rooting for you, you won’t let some asshole mess-up your face, man,”

  “Then it shouldn’t be any different now,” Nick chuckled, but his smile slipped when he noticed whatever Amelia was looking at. “Listen, I’ve got to go, but make sure I can watch the match, okay?”

  “I’ll ask Nadia to face-time you on Saturday.”

  Adrian didn’t understand that I had no intention of attending the match. He closed the laptop after Amelia offered me a small wave. I walked over to the kitchen to get a glass of juice. Anything to avoid talking to Adrian about Thomas. I was sure he had questions, but Ty wasn’t home yet. Holding a conversation full of triggers while we were alone wasn’t a good idea. Adrian wouldn’t hurt me sober, but I was scared that he would run to find his dealer if I said too much.

  “You’re afraid,” Adrian stated, leaning against the kitchen island.

  Either he mastered the art of stealth, or I was too preoccupied with my own thoughts to notice that he moved from the couch.

  “Worried fits better.”

  He let his head hang low and ruffled his hair. “Don’t be. You left Thomas to come here. I understand why you want to know how he is.”

  I took a carton of orange juice from the fridge, overthinking my next sentence.

  “You’re not jealous?”

  Adrian smirked. “Insanely as always, but I told you I’ve changed. You keep saying you’re only here to help me out of the shit I’m drowning in, and as much as it hurts, I have to accept it. Otherwise, I’ve got no chance of winning you back.”

  He rounded the island, and placed his hands on my hips, pulling me in for a hug. There was something about the smell of my hair that Adrian adored since the day we met. It seemed to have a calming effect on him… right until PCP. High Adrian couldn’t be calmed down.

  “I love you, puppet. I want nothing more than to see you happy. The trouble is… I’m selfish. I won’t tell you to leave because I’ll always hope that if you’re here long enough, you’ll change your mind. We could go back to the way things were before I started using.”

  I stepped away from him and took a packet of cigarettes from the counter. There was nothing left to say. Nothing he hadn’t heard before. We held similar conversations on regular basis, and the longer I stayed in New York, the more I realised that we were once again stuck.

  Last time, I stayed hoping he could stop using. Now I refused to leave because I was scared that he would start again. He came a long way since the day he was admitted to rehab, but he was still lost.

  My fear subsided every day; the scars started to fade, but something James told me back in London echoed in my head when I wondered if me and Adrian could make it work.

  “Don’t fall for it, Nadia. He’ll be an addict for the rest of his life. Don’t let him trick you into taking him back. You’ll live in fear forever.”

  He was right. It took as little as Adrian overhearing me ask Mel about Thomas for fear to rear its head from the depths of my subconscious. Whenever Adrian outstretched his hands to hug me, a traumatized girl inside screamed. Our future was buried the second he hit me for the first time.

  Since that day, all I did was care for and protect everyone but myself. Now, looking back, I understood that I refused to tell Nick or Thomas the truth because they would move heaven and earth to stop me from coming to New York. I guess deep down, I knew that day would come.

  Just like I knew that I had to pack my bags and leave soon if I wanted to live a normal life.

  A simple, seemingly innocent question danced on the tip of my tongue. I took a deep breath, finding courage to say the words.

  “Will you let me go if I ask?”

  Silence rang in the air for the longest time. Adrian watched me as if calculating his options, as if looking for the most diplomatic answer, but when he opened his mouth, something I hadn’t expected left his lips.

  “I hope you won’t ask, but if you can honestly tell me you won’t ever be happy with me, I’ll let you go, puppet.”

  I walked out to the small terrace, motioning for Adrian to follow. We sat on the bench, watching the sun set over New York City.

  “I used to love that nickname,” I said, resting my cheek on my shoulder. “It was adorable, because it was just ours. It reminded me of our first date, and our first kiss…”

  “I remember. I couldn’t sleep for days, wondering how you tasted.”

  A cloud of smoke appeared before us, and Adrian reached to get a cigarette out of the packet, even though he quit smoking the day he quit PCP. It was better than drugs, but the fact that he caved planted a seed of doubt in my head.

  “It was a great date,” I admitted, “but somewhere along the way it started to define me. It’s no longer a fond memory of our date. It’s a description of who I became, Adrian. You might not realise it, but you’ve been pulling my strings for a long time.”

  He shifted in his place, turning his body my way, and resting his shoulder against the brick wall.

  “You feel manipulated?”

  The surprise in his voice was believable, but his eyes betrayed the truth. He knew exactly what he was doing. Whether he realised the extent of his power, I wasn’t sure, but the fact he did it knowingly was more than I could stomach.

  “We both need saving for different reasons and from different things. You need saving from drugs, and I…”

  “You need saving from me,” he muttered, his tone bitter.

  “No. I need saving from myself because I’m the only thing that stops me from healing.” I took his hand, lacing our fingers. “You’re stronger than you realise. I’m not the one keeping you clean; you’re doing that by yourself. You just want me
here because you hope we can be together.”

  He squeezed my hand and drew me to his side, resting his chin on my head. Cigarette smoke mixed with the strong notes of cedar and bergamot in his cologne. It was new. He used to use one that smelled of mint and oranges. Either he decided to make a sudden change, or he realised that smells were a big trigger and consciously avoided anything that could trigger my panic attack.

  “I love you,” he whispered, draping his hand over my collarbones.

  “I know, but I don’t love you anymore. Too much has happened, and I’m tired, Adrian. I’m tired of fear and pain. I’m tired of tears. I’ll stay as long as you need me to, but please stop hoping for more, because we won’t ever be more.”

  A single tear dropped onto my hair, and no more words were spoken. We stayed outside for a while, staring in silence at the last sun rays finding their way between the tall buildings.

  My mouth felt like a Sahara desert. The clock on the nightstand showed two a.m., and although I was warm and cosy under the duvet, I swung my feet over the side of the bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Cold December air had nothing on the heating regime at Ty’s apartment. It was a twenty-first birthday gift, all bills paid for. Twenty-two degrees Celsius was the norm, so I didn’t need a robe to keep warm when I opened the bedroom door, and tip-toed into the hallway, careful not to wake anyone.

  “She’ll never love you the way she used to.”

  Ty’s voice sounded from the living room. I stopped, pressing my back to the wall. Shame washed over me, but I turned back, too curious about Adrian’s answer.

  “What if all she needs is time? I can’t lose her, Ty. She’s the first girl I loved, and the last one I will ever love for sure.”

  Ty chuckled. “You’re young, man. You’ve got at least fifty more years here. Nadia’s the first, but she’s not the last. You haven’t used in months! You’ve got this. You don’t need her to stay on track.”

  Ty—always the one to take my side. We were a living and breathing proof that male-female friendships could work.

  “I can’t imagine not having her around,” Adrian admitted. “God,” he let out a long sigh, “I can’t believe we’re here. She was everything I wanted. She still is, but she’s not happy, and it’s killing me.”

  “Then let her go.”

  I chanced a glance around the corner. Adrian sat on the sofa, his head buried in his hands. Ty stood by the kitchen island, with a focused, determined look on his face.

  “You can do this without her, Adrian. I’ll be here to help you, just please let her go. She deserves better than this. You know I’m right. You had your chance, and you blew it over and over again. Let her go.”

  Adrian scoffed. “Let her go to him? He might be better for her than I am, but I hate the guy.”

  “He can take care of her. He makes her happy. Isn’t that what you want? For her to be happy, even if it isn’t with you?” Ty walked across the room, and the wing chair complained under his weight. “Who knows? Maybe a few years down the line you’ll meet again and decide you can’t live without one another, but right now is not the time.”

  “I know,” Adrian sighed, arching back, his hands knotted on the top of his head. “Too much has happened. I shouldn’t expect her to love me. I just… I can’t see myself getting through this without her. She’s the only reason I stopped using.”

  “That’s what you want to believe, but if it were true, you would’ve stopped the first time you hit her. You stopped because your mother bribed the doctors and had you admitted against your will. Now, you’re just playing the ‘clean’ card to make Nadia stay.”

  For the longest time, silence rang in the room. I stood plastered to the wall, my breathing shallow, until Adrian rose from the couch, and his heavy footsteps tapped on the wooden floor.

  That was my cue to move. The moment I pulled the covers up to my chin, the door to my bedroom cracked open. Adrian crawled into the bed, and laid behind me, placing the softest kiss on my temple.

  My eyes fluttered open. “Hey,” I whispered.

  “Sorry I woke you,” he said, his voice small as if something was stuck in his throat. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

  I nodded, and he outstretched his hand behind my head, urging me to cuddle into him. During the four months, we slept in the same bed twice. Both times, for reasons I couldn’t understand, I slept like a baby.

  CHAPTER 8

  NADIA

  Visual aids

  Nicholas wasn’t pleased when I called with Adrian’s match result instead of facetiming him the event. Adrian won, but he didn’t come back home unscratched. My stomach sank at the sight of his bruised face, worry twisting my insides.

  “I want to talk to you.”

  He crossed the room and crouched on the floor in front of the couch, resting his head on my knees, hugging my thighs. He reached for my hand and placed it on his head, silently asking me to play with his short hair. It soothed him when he felt distressed, but almost a year had gone by without him seeking that kind of comfort.

  My chest squeezed painfully, but I didn’t dare speak first. Adrian was trembling, the hold he had on me felt desperate.

  Whatever was going through his head filled the room with a heavy atmosphere that I could only compare to the way the church felt at my father’s funeral—grim, sad and filled with despair.

  Minutes passed with Adrian holding onto me for dear life before he lifted his head just enough to look at me.

  “I’m letting you go, puppet,” he breathed, his eyes full of tears. “You’re worth so much more than what I can give you on my best day…”

  The first tear rolled down his cheek, and my mind drew a blank. I couldn’t say a single word. I couldn’t decide if I was happy that he understood we couldn’t be together or if I was mourning the end of us.

  “I love you,” he said, raising to his feet just enough to sit beside me. “You will always be my everything, puppet, but you shouldn’t be with me. I don’t trust myself yet. I won’t risk hurting you if things go south.”

  I caught his hand, but changed my mind just as fast, and climbed onto his knees, cupping his face.

  “You will be okay. You’re amazing, Adrian, and you are so strong. I believe in you. I know the worst is behind you.”

  He gritted his teeth when I wiped his tears with my thumbs.

  “Promise me you’ll stay safe. Promise you’ll take care of yourself, puppet. Promise you won’t let some asshole drag you down.”

  I nodded, resting my forehead against his. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Can I kiss you?” he whispered, digging his fingers into my thighs. “One last time, puppet. Please.”

  Our lips connected for an affectionate, desperate goodbye kiss. Adrian weaved his fingers through my hair, holding me close, tasting me over and over again, his lips soft and restless, the touch of his hands on my body cautious but firm.

  He brushed his fingers down my spine, and closed my lips, sealing the kiss, our relationship, all the promises and memories.

  “I love you,” he said again, the force in his quiet voice comparable to the bomb that hit Hiroshima. “Always have, always will, puppet.”

  One last kiss on my forehead, and then, without another word or glance my way, he got up, placed a plane ticket on the table, crossed the room, and closed the apartment door behind him with a quiet click.

  I sat motionless, my heart aching for two different reasons, my mind split in half—one half was grateful, the other one was hurting.

  ***

  I wheeled my suitcase into the living room when I finished packing late on Sunday evening. I rested it against the wall, ready for the morning flight and moved to the kitchen to get a bottle of water out of the fridge.

  Every few minutes, I glanced at the door, hoping to see Adrian walk through them to say goodbye, but it had been twenty-four hours since he left the apartment, and neither I nor Ty heard from him.

  A soft knock on the door had me pull my
eyebrows together. I wasn’t expecting anyone, at least not someone who would be required to knock. I pulled on the door handle, slipping on my best fake smile.

  It faded quickly.

  Blood drained from my face as a tornado of thoughts wreaked havoc in my mind. Adrian stood in the corridor, Omega frat hoodie on his back, pupils dilated.

  “Hey, puppet.”

  “No,” I mouthed. “No, please. Please, tell me you’re not high!”

  Fear failed to arrive. Overwhelming disappointment and anger took the stage instead. I stumbled forward, banging my fist on his chest, feeling powerless.

  “Why?! How could you?! You were doing so well!”

  He gripped my wrists and squeezed hard. His nostrils flared, craziness in his dark eyes. My body turned cold, breath flattened, and fear decided to join me, tying my vocal cords. Terror replaced the blood in my veins just as panic kicked in.

  I tore my hands out of Adrian’s grip, and swung the door closed. His foot got in the way. Before I could fight him, he pushed the door open, and walked inside; his hands raised to signal he had no bad intentions, but one look into his eyes, and I knew that it was a matter of minutes before he would raise his voice.

  And then...

  Not once in the past had I stood up to Adrian or tried to talk him out of hurting me. I took what was coming, but not this time. Thomas was right—I was a survivor.

  “Get out,” I managed, sounding like those were the last words to come out of my mouth. “Don’t ruin this now. I’m leaving, remember? You let me go! Adrian, please… You’ll hate yourself tomorrow more than you already do. Please, just leave.”

  Adrian closed the door and took a few steps forward. “You’re mine, puppet. I can’t let him have you. I can’t,” he began, his voice soft. “You need to stay with me.” He closed the distance parting us in one stride.

  I ran for the kitchen, almost tripping over my feet, no longer thinking rationally. I grabbed a knife. My mind and body were ruled by terror, but instincts rebelled against allowing Adrian closer.

  “Get out!” I swung the blade. “Leave me alone!”