“Honestly, I think that sometimes that would be better too. I’m not going to kill myself, so don’t worry about that – but I do know that if I could choose between my daughter’s life and my own, I’d choose hers. Every time I’d choose hers.
“I wish I was sitting here with a little girl in my lap talking to you about how hard it is being a single mother without an education. But I’m not. I know what I did. I know what I lost, and I don’t want to talk about it. I am not going to relapse. I don’t want to take drugs to forget. I need this pain. It’s the only thing reminding me that I’m still alive.”
Chapter Forty-One
By the time my recovery program is finished, I have my School Certificate. It isn’t enough to get me into a university course, but it’s enough that I can continue on and do a diploma or apply for an apprenticeship.
At the community health centre, they also offer career counselling. There are a lot of pamphlets about jobs in industries that need workers.
I pick up the pamphlet that talks about trades you can learn and wonder if I’d be any good at hairdressing. I figure that I have so much hair of my own, it might be nice to learn what to do with it.
The great thing about these community outreach programs, is that they put you in touch with employers who are willing to work with troubled kids. My counsellor made a few calls and within a week, I had an interview at a local hair salon, where I met Tina.
She had left home at an early age by choice, she told me that she was getting roughed up and couldn’t take it anymore. The day she got her first job, was the day she left home and moved into a share house.
Life was difficult for her, but she was careful with her money, worked hard and eventually, started up her own salon.
Now she’s at a point where she can afford to hire an apprentice, and she wants to give someone else the same opportunity she had. I guess I’m lucky that ‘someone’ is now me.
I’m still attending NA meetings, but I only go once a week now. Braden and I are slowly starting to talk more. He’s persistent, I’ll give him that. I don’t think we’ll ever be as close as we once were. It’s too hard to forgive him that much, but I don’t feel so much like stabbing him whenever I see him anymore.
I still haven’t gone and seen the tattoo parlour he works at, although he has been bringing sketch pads with him to meetings and showing me what he’s working on.
He’s planning sleeves for himself, and every part of the tattoo will tell a story. The left side, he wants to represent his past, and the right side his future. It will be a huge undertaking, but I’m sure it will look fantastic when he’s done.
Talking about the symbolism of his ink has got me thinking. I really like the idea of having something that will permanently remind me why I’m living my life the way I am.
“Braden?” I ask one evening after a meeting. “I’ve been thinking – do you remember how you said you’d do anything for my forgiveness?”
This got his attention, suddenly he was one hundred percent focused on me instead of the sketch pad on his lap. “Of course. What is it?”
“I think I want a tattoo.”
“Sure. What do you want to do? Something on your shoulder? Your hip? Your ankle?”
“My back. I want my entire back done.”
His eyes practically pop out of his head. “You want your whole back done for your first tattoo?”
“Yes Braden, and before you start trying to talk me out of it, I know it’s going to hurt and I don’t care. I’ve been thinking about the tattoo you have, and how it’s there to remind you about the worst thing you’ve done. I want something like that too. My worst thing is much bigger than your worst thing. So it needs to be large. It needs to take over my body.”
He just nods his understanding and waits for me to continue. “I want a phoenix, flames and all. In my mind, it rises from my hips and its head goes up to one shoulder and the wings are diagonal around me. Can you do something like that?”