Counselling sucks, and I can’t seem to escape it. I hate talking about my feelings. But it’s a part of my program. I have to attend NA meetings, go to school, pass drug tests and have regular counselling. I have to keep my life on track in general. If I don’t, I’ll lose my flat and my benefits. I feel like I’m caught in this never ending revolving door, and I can’t find the exit.
I do everything I’m supposed to, but I still don’t share at the meetings. The most I have ever said is “Hi, I’m Paige and I’m a drug addict. I never wanted to be one, but somehow I got caught up in it, and the destruction it causes. I don’t want to go back to it. I don’t think I’ll ever go back.”
Braden keeps trying to talk to me, it’s like he needs me to forgive him so he can move forward. But I can’t. Not yet anyway.
“So um, I’ve been working in a tattoo parlour. You should come and check it out sometime,” he tells me after a meeting. Every time he talks to me his voice has a slight shake to it. I make him nervous.
“Why would I want to do that?” I ask. It seems like every time I speak to him, my voice loses all feeling. But maybe that’s just how it always is these days.
“I don’t know. You used to like looking at my drawings. I thought you might like to see some of my designs.”
I look over his arms and wonder why he isn’t displaying any of his work in his body. “Where are your tattoos? Seems strange to be designing them but not displaying them.”
“I only have one,” he says, pressing his lips together lightly.
“Did it hurt too much, and you can’t handle getting any more?” I ask sarcastically.
“It was worth it.”
He busies himself, placing granulated coffee in his foam cup, along with his usual mammoth amount of sugar. I watch him. I have to admit that curiosity is getting the better of me.
“Where did you get it? The tattoo… can you show me or is it somewhere private?”
“Nowhere you haven’t seen before,” he grins, glancing at me as he presses the lever on the urn to add the hot water.
“On your arse?” I ask.
He shakes his head as he adds his milk and turns to me. “No. It’s on my chest. Over my heart.”
“Oh. Well… what is it?”
He pulls the neck of his T-shirt down, so I can see it. It’s a symbol about the size of my palm, done in black ink. I’ve never seen one like it before, it’s a circular shape that has spikes and arrows evenly placed around it as they jut out of some sort of irregular square shape in the middle.
“Does it mean anything?”
“Yes. It’s the symbol for sorrow and despair. I got it over my heart to remind me to stay strong. To remind me of what I did to you.”
My throat thickens and makes it hard for me to swallow. “Don’t Braden. I don’t want to hear it,” I whisper, tears burning the backs of my eyes as I shake my head no.
“But I loved you Paige, and I threw you to the wolves. Handing you over was the worst thing I have ever done. I need to remember. I need to be reminded every day when I look in the mirror that my drug addiction destroyed not only my life, but that of my friend’s as well.”
“It wasn’t just my life you destroyed Braden. Every girl you ever took to him was destroyed. Why don’t you have a tattoo for each of them?”
“I don’t know. You’re the only one I tried to keep for myself. You’re the only one I didn’t want to take to him.”
“You’re talking like we were lovers or something Braden. I think you’re romanticising what was between us.”
“I’m not Paige. I did love you. You were my family. My best friend. You knew me. What we had was better than some stupid relationship where you fuck for a while and it’s over. We were real together.”