The painting was brutally honest; it portrayed her deepest fears and regrets in a beautiful harmony. It hurt to see there was no one waiting for her on the other side, but it was true.
I wasn’t waiting. I moved on.
Or I tried to, at least.
Nadia had no idea how wrong she was about Chrissy. The sweet smiles and positive attitude were refreshing, yes, but I had no connection with that girl, no emotional bond.
I stood in the middle of the driveway with the large painting in hand, and a head full of impossible choices, until the door to the house opened after I smoked two cigarettes.
Nick gawked at me from the doorway. “Are you lost, sir?” he joked, waving me over. “You might want to see this. Your girls look like twins.”
I made my way to the BMW to put the canvas away, then jogged back to the house. Maya sat on the kitchen table, her feet dangling in the air, with a beautiful, braided crown on her head. She held Nadia’s hand, playing with her rings, giggling whenever Nadia—wearing an identical braided crown—tickled her under the chin.
“Look, Thomas!” Maya exclaimed, spotting me in the doorway and pointing from Nadia to herself. “We have the same hair!”
“You look beautiful.”Both of you. “Goodjob Melia. Now, let’s get going, sunshine. Your mummy won’t be happy with me tonight.”
Maya’s eyes widened. “Will she yell?”
I smirked, helping her into her pink coat. “She never yells at me.”
“If she does, you just have to make a sad face and say you’re sorry. And hug her. It works for me.”
Every time, if I might add. She pulled that trick on me whenever she had the chance. I turned to Nadia before we headed out.
“You didn’t give me a new riddle, baby doll.”
She looked up, no trace of the confidence she showcased moments earlier. “I can be given or earned but never bought. I’m sought by the sinners, but saints need me not. What am I?”
Funny how it was the easiest riddle, yet the hardest thing to give.
CHAPTER 13
NADIA
Not yet
James took the week before Christmas off work. Well,almost. He planned to spend the time with his wife and daughter but allocated two hours every day for our sessions.
He sorted through my meds, this time adding instead of removing. Once I told him about the lack of sleep, he put me on Lexapro for the anxiety and swapped my sleeping pills from Estazolam to Temazepam.
A firm “no” was his answer when I asked for Xanax. Little did he know Adrian’s psychiatrist wrote me a prescription, but there wasn’t much left.
We started to dissect Adrian’s behaviour and his power over me, but we hit a roadblock on Tuesday during a last-minute late-afternoon session. James couldn’t make it into the office at ten am and rescheduled to four pm. I liked it better. It gave me something to look forward to.
James was adamant that Adrian’s issues were born before he started using drugs, saying that PCP just escalated the jealousy he couldn’t control.
“Heneverlaid a hand on me until he started using.”
“But he was always jealous, Nadia, you said it. The fights you used to have were getting worse every time.”
“The fights weren’t the issue.” I pulled on the hem of my black, turtle-neck jumper. “All couples fight.”
“Yes, but he was manipulating you, and that’s why you forgave him time after time. That’s why you stayed and why you went back when he asked you to come. That’s why you will go back again if he does something reckless.”
“I won’t. He already did something reckless, but I’m still here.” I grabbed my bag. “Our two hours are up. We’re done for the day. I’ll see you on Monday.”
Adrian’s suicide attempt didn’t hit me as strong as it did the first time around. I pushed the worry and blame aside, not wanting to dive back into the pool of regret. I pressed forward, ignoring the moments of weakness, too afraid to fall apart. I pressed forward, away from Adrian, and everything my mind associated him with.