The Taste of Redemption

by I. A. Dice

  Nick moved out of the way to let me pass, genuine joy on his face. Maya sat on a barstool with Amelia standing behind her, combing the long brown locks back…

  “I want to know everything!” she cried; her voice almost ultrasonic.

  “I figured that much, but let’s save the details for later,” I pointed my chin to Maya, “shall we?”

  “Fine, but you’ve got to give me something.”

  She parted Maya’s hair in the middle, getting to work.

  I summarised last night, making sure it was a child-friendly retelling of the events, which required skipping everything that happened after Thomas brought me to his house. It was too bad, because I really wanted a few pointers from Amelia regarding taking care of Thomas. Mel finished with Maya’s hair and was halfway through mine when Thomas walked into the kitchen, a phone in his hand.

  “It’s for you,” he said, frowning.

  I pressed the cell to my ear. “Hey, Chase.”

  “Hey! What’s wrong with your phone? It goes straight to voicemail.”

  “I left it at home to charge. Thomas said you knew we left the club together, which is why I didn’t call you last night.”

  He chuckled into the receiver. “Yes, he did. I’m sure you were busy. I just wanted to check if you were alright, and you obviously are, so I’ll speak to you soon.”

  He cut the call not waiting for a reply. Thomas took his phone back, looking annoyed. I caught his hand before he could walk away.

  “He’s just a friend.”

  “He is to you. You’re a bit more than that to him, baby doll.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not. Believe me. I am to him what Chrissy was to you, minus the kissing.”

  If Thomas wanted to say something else, he didn’t let it show.

  CHAPTER 20

  THOMAS

  Distraction

  The restaurant I chose for the conversation with Chrissy was within walking distance of my office. If it were up to me, I would’ve called her to say I no longer needed her company, but Nadia had a point. It wasn’t Chrissy’s fault she was a plausible distraction. It wasn’t her fault I was a stubborn idiot and refused to forgive the girl I loved sooner.

  The waiter led me to a small table by the window and I took the liberty of ordering a light snack. Chrissy arrived ten minutes later, dressed to impress: white, fitted skirt, white, strapless, fitted blouse, high heels and a coat in hand. She even wore glasses with white rims to match. The one pop of colour were her blood-red lips. The same ones she tried to press to mine the moment I rose to greet her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked when I turned my head.

  “Sit down. Do you want anything to drink?”

  Contrary to me, Chrissy was nervous. I could tell by the way she held her chin higher to come off as unaffected.

  “A coffee would be nice.”

  I called the waiter over and ordered her favourite—hazelnut latte.

  “You were awfully quiet over the weekend.” She drummed her long nails on the empty wine glass.

  Please don’t drum Bohemian Rhapsody.

  “I was busy. Hence why I asked you to meet me today.”

  Her face lit up. “I’m glad you did. I’ve got two tickets to Chelsea’s game tomorrow. Care to join me?”

  Football? Was she trying to woo me with twenty-two sweaty guys running around chasing one ball?

  Good luck, sweetheart.

  The waiter came back with the latte, triple checking if the grilled wrap that I polished while waiting for Chrissy was satisfactory before he attended to other guests.

  “Before Jane introduced us, she told you about my girlfriend, right?” I began, getting straight to the point.

  There was no reason to stall. The sooner I would get it over and done with the sooner Nadia would stop feeling insecure.

  Chrissy’s features pinched. “You mean Nadia? Yes, although Jane said she’s your ex-girlfriend.”

  “Not anymore.”

  She crossed her arms, hurt clear on her pretty face. It morphed to defensiveness quickly. “So,” she clipped, her tone sarcastic. “She runs off to her ex, comes back all needy and hurt, and that’s all it takes for you to take her back? Have you no pride, Thomas?”

  My jaw clenched, and I leaned over the table. “You might want to watch the way you speak about Nadia. She’s the only reason I haven’t cut you lose over the phone.”

  “Oh, so I should be grateful you’re dumping me face to face? Tell her thanks. She made my day.”

  “Dump you?” I poked a few lone crumbs on the plate with a fork. “What made you think we were dating?”

  Chrissy pursed her lips, her attitude like a ticking bomb.

  Jesus, and to think I considered her easy-going.

  She tapped her index finger on her lips, bitch face on display. “Let me think. How about the fact we spent every evening together? How about the fact you kissed me every chance you had, how about…”

  “I kissed you? Think about it. I kissed you back, sure, but you were the one to seize every opportunity.” I scratched my head, the annoyance evaporating when her face blanched with shame. “Listen, you’re a nice girl. There are hundreds of guys who’d give their arm for a chance to date you, but I’m not one of those guys. I have my eyes on one girl. I’m sorry if I hurt you, but don’t act like I promised you anything.”

  Chrissy clutched her bag and rose to her feet, draping the coat over her arm. She was hurt, and it made me uncomfortable—yet another humane reaction that would never strike me if I hadn’t met Nadia.

  That girl rewired my brain.

  “Well, all the best to you, Thomas,” Chrissy seethed, then turned on her heel and stormed out of the restaurant, her hips swaying.

  My wristwatch showed fifteen past noon. Nadia’s session with James was over, and when I fished my phone out of the pocket, a text message waited on the screen.

  I’m heading home. Call me when you can.

  I had a better idea.

  Go back to my place. There’s a spare key under the plant pot outside the front door. I’ll be there soon.

  I grabbed my coat, threw some cash on the table and pressed the cell to my ear to clear my afternoon schedule.

  “What’s up?” Nick answered.

  “Do you need me back at the office today?”

  Christmas was three days away. There was quite a bit of work left, but I could dump it on my assistant. Nick and I spent the morning triple checking the accounts and discussing possible job openings and plans for the upcoming year.

  All the singles were out, concerts were booked, and nothing was on the agenda until January. An office Christmas party was tomorrow, but the whole thing was organised by Amelia, so neither Nick nor I had much say on the subject.

  “I’m not even there anymore,” he said. “I’m heading home. Why?”

  I reached the C&G carpark and jumped into my car.

  “I’ll take the afternoon off. I might not show up for the party tomorrow, either, but I’ll leave that up to Nadia. Whatever else needs doing will have to wait until after the weekend.”

  His chuckle filled the car when the hands-free system activated.

  “Fine, this once I don’t mind you skiving, but I still expect you and Nadia at the cottage tomorrow evening.”

  Ah, yes. The infamous Christmas Eve get-together hosted by Amelia every year. It was a tradition, apparently.

  I wouldn’t know, having only attended one. The party was great, just the closest friends exchanging silly gifts and spending time together like family. The not so great part? Dress code: Christmas themed fancy dress. But there was nothing that couldn’t be made fun, right?

  You bet.

  Last year, instead of the expected—an elf or a reindeer—I wore a Christmas jumper that read “I’m not Santa, but you can be my Ho”. Amelia wasn’t amused, but Nick sure couldn’t stop chuckling every time he looked at me.

  “We’ll be there. I’ve got the perfect outfit ready.”
r />   “I can imagine, but you won’t top mine.”

  I pressed the horn when some moron didn’t clear the junction, too busy playing with his phone.

  “Does Mel know about it?”

  “No, she’s thinks I’m wearing a snowman costume she bought me.”

  I want to be there when Mel realises, I’m not the only adult child.

  Thirty minutes later, I entered my house. Nadia was already home, and God, it felt good not to come back to an empty, silent house. I was almost giddy, seeing her coat and bag on the hanger. The coffee machine was working in the kitchen.

  Nadia sat with her back to me by the breakfast bar, pencils scattered on the worktop. Her hand moved slowly, and for a moment, I watched as she filled the blank page. She outlined two silhouettes in a tight embrace—a man and the girl in a white dress.

  It was nothing like all the other sketches she drew lately. This one was calm, the lines soft, delicate.

  My phone chimed in my pocket, frightening Nadia. She glanced over her shoulder, scrambling to close the sketchpad, her cheeks pink.

  “Hey, I didn’t hear you come in. Do you want a coffee?”

  I crossed the room, cupped her face and devoured her nude lips. We spent the whole day together yesterday; she slept in my bed; but it wasn’t enough. She was gone for too long, and now, the four hours without her this morning were too much.

  I lifted her bum and pressed her against the wall, desire blooming in the pit of my stomach. I smiled against her lips when she sighed, glee in her eyes.

  “What’s so amusing?” she asked, breaking away.

  “How is it that out of all the things I do, you like something so simple as kissing against the wall the best?”

  She pressed her palms to my chest, pushing until I let her stand.

  “Does that bother you?” She tucked her hair behind her ears.

  “No, of course not. I’m just curious about why that’s what you like best.”

  She shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but it was clear that there was a solid reason behind the preference. She was either ashamed or anxious to share it, and there was no way I could drop the subject now.

  “Don’t brush me off, baby doll. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  She ducked under my arm, caught my hand and led me out to the garden, grabbing our cigarettes on the way.

  She sat cross-legged on the double swing, and I rested against the wall, Marlboro between my lips.

  “I’d rather not tell you, but I know you won’t drop this. I also think it’s best that you know the truth rather than imagine God knows what.”

  Check and check.

  “You know me well.”

  She forced a smile. “Just don’t overthink the way you act from now on. Everything stays the same, okay?”

  My brows furrowed, but I nodded, even though something told me I shouldn’t have agreed before getting the details.

  Nadia let out the smoke, watching me with a dose of uncertainty. “I used to associate being pushed against the wall with pain.”

  She had an undeniable talent to wreak havoc in my brain with one fucking sentence. She hadn’t mentioned Adrian or the abuse directly, but images of the motherfucker pushing her around like a rag doll, her head bouncing off the wall, back bruising with the impact filled my thoughts.

  I took a drag of the cigarette, but the smoke filling my lungs did little to banish the wrath that consumed me whenever my imagination pulled this shit over my eyes.

  Nadia started picking her nails, looking torn.

  “You can tell me as much as you want, baby doll.”

  A detailed script of Adrian’s cruelty wasn’t high on the list of things I wanted to hear, but if she trusted me enough to share, I would grit my teeth and listen.

  “What’s the point? Knowing every detail and visualising every bruise won’t do you good, and reliving it won’t help me, either. You help me, Thomas. And you’re not even trying. You push me against the wall, and you’re hardly gentle, but you always hold one arm across my back and your hand on the back of my head.

  “I’m sure you’ve never realised this yourself, but you break the impact. Couple it with the way you make me feel when you kiss me and suddenly being pressed against a wall isn’t something I fear anymore. It’s something I love because it’s one thing less I associate with pain, one crack on my broken mind healed.”

  Was the goddamn world imploding?

  My chest tingled with pride, but questions multiplied. I understood why Nadia wanted me to confirm that nothing would change. I was already questioning my every move.

  Was she uncomfortable when I held her wrists in a tight grip? Was she anxious when I entered the house and didn’t say a word until I sealed her lips with a kiss? Was she scared when I kissed her for the first time?

  “Say something,” she urged.

  I crouched in front of her, taking her hands in mine. “I wish you could feel what you’re doing to me. You tear me apart and build me back up with one sentence.”

  She frowned. “I don’t want to tear you apart, that’s not how…”

  “It’s a good thing,” I muttered, stopping her from explaining further, or apologising. “You’re getting deeper and deeper under my skin, changing my mindset, reducing the blame I’ve been plagued with for years into nothing because you’re showing me that I’m doing something right, that there’s a reason why I’m here. And that reason is you.”

  Her frown morphed into a smile, and she bit her lip. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, baby doll. I’ll try not to overthink the way I handle you, but promise to tell me if I make you feel uncomfortable.”

  “I promise, although I doubt you ever will.”

  She leaned forward to peck my lips, then got up and threw the cigarette into an ashtray by the patio door. I opened a bottle of wine when Nadia curled under a black, fluffy blanket on the sofa.

  Instead of the TV, she put the music on, nesting her back into my side when I sat down and handed her a glass. She draped her hand over the nape of my neck, pulling me down for a Spiderman kiss.

  “One more thing while we’re on the subject.” I rested my hand on the back of the couch to let Nadia cuddle into me more. “Is there anything else you associate with pain that I could try and change?”

  She thought for a moment, sipping the wine. Her body language told me she found something before she moved to put the glass away. I placed mine on the side table, next to a framed picture of Maya.

  The song changed to Moments Passed by Dermot Kennedy. If it wasn’t for Nadia, I wouldn’t know the guy existed, but she had a knack for finding great music on Spotify. Her playlists were full of artists I had never heard before, but I enjoyed their songs from the first notes.

  “You already did this once. It didn’t alarm me much then, but it might’ve been because I was too surprised your touch in general didn’t send me into an anxious frenzy.”

  She caught my right hand, and brought in up to her throat, spreading my fingers wide, and pressing them to her soft flesh. A small gesture loaded with disgraceful history she wanted to override.

  Nadia’s breath hitched, her eyes fluttering closed. She was still as a statue. I retreated my hand, emotions in check despite my heart clawing its way out of my chest.

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

  “Because you trust me. You know I’d never hurt you, but you sure don’t enjoy it.”

  “I enjoy many other things you do.”

  She tilted her head back again, urging me to kiss her. Desire burned bright when she sighed into my lips on purpose. A cheeky smile on her lips gave away that she knew what a turn on that was. She was toying with me, teasing me to take her right there on the couch.

  Your wish is my command, baby doll.

  CHAPTER 21

  NADIA

  Scream here

  “What was the scariest part of Adrian’s abuse?” James asked, chewing on a pencil, a notepad in hand.

  It
was eleven am on Christmas Eve, and James chose to celebrate the fact with a casual outfit. He dressed down, choosing jeans and a warm, knitted jumper that looked like it belonged in the eighties.

  I almost called to cancel the session. Thomas left it until the last minute to inform me about the Christmas party at C&G Records, but he didn’t let me skip therapy in favour of looking through my wardrobe.

  “Was it the fear?”

  I shook my head. “Fear was the most disarming feeling. When Adrian came back home high, I was instantly paralysed, too scared to even make a sound, but fear wasn’t the worst part. Peace was.”

  James’s brows furrowed. “Elaborate.”

  “Every time Adrian hit me, I ran to Ty. He kept me sane but couldn’t calm me down. Maybe it was because I didn’t trust him to protect me… I stayed with him until the morning, when Adrian would come over to apologise. Those moments when he walked through the door sober were the worst.”

  The door to Ty’s bedroom burst open, and Adrian appeared in the doorway, dark circles under his eyes. The aftereffects of using PCP were always the same. His body trembled, beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His chest rose and fell fast, each breath shallow, face red due to the elevated blood pressure. Sometimes, if he was gone for the whole weekend, he would vomit for three days straight after the high wore off. Other times, he couldn’t recall that he left at all.

  Ty let go of me when I tried to sit. We spent the night like many before—cuddled in his bed. He stayed awake, but no longer tried to convince me to leave Adrian. He knew it wouldn’t work.

  I looked into Adrian’s black eyes, his pupils small, as if the room was too bright despite the closed blinds. Tears welled in the comers of my eyes… tears of relief when a sense of serenity washed over me like holy water. He was sober; he came to get me.

  Maybe, just maybe, this time was the last time.

  Adrian didn’t speak until Ty left the room, passing him as if he were thin air. Adrian came closer, dropped on the bed and nestled his head on my stomach, tears wetting the yellow fabric of Ty’s t-shirt I wore.

  “Help me,” he uttered, wrapping his arms around my middle. “Help me, puppet.”