Chapter 6 - 'between you and me, there are some right head cases in this joint.'

Ash makes a friend in rehab, and is frustrated by Gina’s proposed divorce settlement

Previously: Sixteen year old Esther goes to prom, and when Bethany abandons her, the most popular boy in school unexpectedly walks her home.

Ash

On my first day at The Pines they ran over some ground rules. One of them was about conduct if we ever happened to bump into our therapists outside of rehab. There couldn’t be any acknowledgement, it wouldn’t be appropriate to stop and chat. I scoffed at the time. As if I’d be sticking around long enough to see anyone from this place. I couldn’t think of anything more excruciating than stopping for chit chat with my shrink.

The other main one was not asking about our therapists’ private lives, because clearly we have lanes to stay in. But when Roni cancelled last week’s session, it affected me more than I thought it would. I knew I couldn’t ask her anything about the friend she met in the foyer. I couldn’t casually mention that she looked a lot like the girlfriend I had when I was seventeen, or use her reaction to try and reach a conclusion one way or another. But I sort of wish I could.

Because I’ve thought about it on and off since then. I’ve delved back into that memory and tried to home in on a specific detail; a singled out snapshot I have of her face as she and Roni hugged, and try to sharpen it up, the way they do with blurry photos in TV shows to hype the drama when people are investigating shit. I even attempted a Facebook search, but they’ve blocked that here. They block all that stuff here.

So it’s fair to say I have more time for my scheduled art therapy session today. When Roni explains the exercise, I give it my full attention. When she talks about character traits, I think carefully about mine. Today we’re focusing on the positive parts of ourselves, but my mind goes blank. There’s nothing but dust and tumbleweed in there.

‘Roni,’ I say, and resignation flickers across her face. She thinks I’m about to disengage again. ‘I’m going to level with you. It’s hard to think of positive things when it’s the bad shit that’s brought me here in the first place.’

She looks thoughtful. Thoughtful and relieved.

‘But is it?’ she responds. ‘You’re here voluntarily, right? Don’t you think taking that step might have been…?

She trails off and looks encouragingly at me. 

‘Brave?’ I suggest, quietly, unsure. Roni nods, enthusiastically.

‘Right! Absolutely,’ she smiles. ‘Consider what career you have chosen as well. It takes guts to get up and perform in front of all those people, and to put yourself out there the way you do. I couldn’t do it, and I don’t know many people who could.’

‘Not sure,’ I say. ‘That could just be me showing off. Maybe I just like being the centre of attention.’

She shrugs. ‘Maybe, but there are easier ways to achieve that, which don’t involve being quite as visible as you are to the world. Without the scrutiny or the pressure.’

‘I suppose,’ I say. 

‘Okay, well, consider this, then; if you don’t think of yourself as brave, what are some of the other reasons you decided to take these steps at this point in your life? Why now?’

‘Besides the fact I probably almost died? Luna-Moon,’ I say, without any hesitation. ‘She deserves for me to be better than this.’

‘So, accountability then? You’re accountable to your daughter.’

‘Definitely,’ I say, firmly, and that’s a trait I can recognise in myself. And one that extends to other people in my life as well. To Mum, and Tyler, and even, though I don’t want to admit it, to Gina. I’ve never felt good about letting people down, and it fucks me off that I have lately. I need to get my shit together.

I pick out a black marker and write the word on the paper. I reach for colours, brighter ones than the grey and murky green I used last time, and draw around it. The exercise becomes absorbing, and once I’ve finished one trait, it’s easier to recognise others. It doesn’t feel like long until the session draws to a close, and this time, on the way out of the room, when Roni tells me I did well, I think part of me believes her. 

Afterwards, Gina’s proposed divorce settlement is sitting in my email inbox, and it’s so mental I briefly wonder if she’s trolling me. By the time I’ve reached the end I have the same tense, fractious energy and tightness in my chest I’ve had thousands of times before. My jaw’s clenched; the pressure, built right up by my temples. I squeeze my fists together over and over and eventually close the browser.

Fuck being accountable to that narcissistic sociopath.

And ordinarily it’s now that I’d reach for my stash of coke and snort the feeling away, or grind up some painkillers and put them up my nose, too. I’d let everything in my head become soft and blurred and dampened. I wouldn’t stop to think about it. I wouldn’t stop to think about anything. Not Luna-Moon, or the band, or the album I can’t seem to finish. Or the calls and voicemails from our manager. Certainly not them. All that mattered was getting high.

But obviously there’s none of that here, so instead, I smoke a cigarette outside, and I listen to the sounds of the breeze through the trees, and to the coo of wood pigeons settling in for the evening. This time when I close my eyes to shut out the world, everything is clear and sharp instead of vignetted and veiled. Really, cigarette aside, it’s all very salubrious, and even though I can’t say I’m not still craving the frenetic, buzzy dopamine rush from the cocaine or the mellow numbness from the demerol, I appreciate the clarity I have to hear the sounds of the forest, and to smell the woody earthiness of the pine trees, and to revel in the calm that comes with not having to be with Gina.

The girl from the dining room tiptoes over, gingerly, and sits next to me on the bench. She breathes in deeply.

‘It’s sweet and sour chicken tonight,’ she says.

‘Yeah?’ I say, still staring ahead. ‘You gonna eat any of it?’

‘Yes,’ she says, unbothered by my jibe. ‘Otherwise they’ll come at me with a supplement shake, and I don’t much fancy that.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I apologise. ‘That was flippant.’

‘It’s fine,’ she says cheerfully. ‘If you’d asked me that last time it was on the menu, I’d have told you I’d have a spoonful of rice and have taken the shake. So, baby steps.’

‘Sounds like a leap to me,’ I say. ‘I don’t think I asked you your name.’

‘You didn’t. It’s Daisy.’

‘I’m Ash,’ I say, and extend my hand. She takes it in hers and they’re tiny and delicate and cold.

‘I know who you are,’ she laughs. ‘Everyone does, if the whispers are anything to go by. Is that part of the problem?’

I shake my head. ‘Not so much that.’

‘Bet it makes it hard for you to get your prescription drugs.’

‘You’d be surprised at what you can get when everyone knows who you are.’

‘I wouldn’t, actually,’ she says.

‘Oh, okay.’ 

Daisy looks up towards the treetops.

‘How come you’re out here, anyway?’ she asks. ‘It’s nicer inside.’

‘I had a really shit email and needed to just breathe for a bit.’

‘What was it about?’ she asks, and I look at her for a few seconds, weighing up if I should tell her. This girl could be anyone and I don’t know who I can trust. But we’re supposed to be able to share stuff in group so it’ll probably be teased out of me and she’ll find out anyway. On account of the whispers.

‘I’m getting divorced,’ I say, finally. ‘And my wife—’

‘Gina Belgiorno,’ she interrupts, excitedly, and I think, fuck my life, this girl knows everything.

‘Gina. Yes. She’s… not being reasonable. It’s messy. Acrimonious.’

‘I mean, you can probably afford it though, right?’

I shake my head. ‘Not the fucking point, Daisy. At all.’

‘Sorry.’ She looks downcast and pulls her knees up to her chest, and I feel bad. She seems really young. Can’t be much older than about nineteen. I could definitely have been more patient.

‘It’s alright,’ I say. ‘Sorry for snapping.’

Daisy brightens up again. ‘Can I sit with you at dinner?’

‘If you like,’ I say, after a few second’s hesitation.

‘I don’t have to, if you’d rather not. I just thought maybe you’d like the company. And they’ll make you sit with someone else, and between us, there are some right head cases in this joint.’ She jerks her head back towards the building and giggles. 

‘Daisy! Can you even say that?’ I laugh.

‘You can, and honestly, you should. It doesn’t have to be gloomy in here, you know? You can allow yourself to have some fun.’

‘Well, company would be nice,’ I say. ‘Thanks.’

‘You can help me to keep the supplement shake at bay.’

‘Alright,’ I say.

‘…Then when I leave here, I can tell everyone I had a dinner date with Ash from Grandeur Looms.’

‘Please don’t do that.’

She laughs a tinkly laugh and then shivers and wraps her arms around herself, pulling her baggy, oversized hoodie tight across her body, and I really notice how tiny she is, how fragile she looks. I flick my cigarette away. ‘You look cold as balls, Daisy. Shall we go in?’ 

‘Can’t you just tell Gina to piss off?’ Daisy asks, a little later, staring down at her plate, and pushing the rice into a puddle of glossy red sauce. She’s separated out five pieces of pineapple from the rest of her food. Lined them up neatly at the side of the plate. A staff member watches.

‘It’s not quite as simple as that.’

‘Alright. What about if you tell her lawyer you don’t want to give her all your money?’

‘It’s not just about the money though. We have a child. You probably knew that.’

‘Obviously.’ She rolls her eyes, and spears a piece of pineapple with her fork, and sniffs it it before pressing it, deliberately, into her mouth. ‘Haven’t had hot pineapple in ages,’ she says, chewing. ‘Quite nice, actually.’

She turns towards the nurse and gives her thumbs up. ‘Ash, tell her lawyer it’s not fair.’

And in that moment, it all seems so manageable, so that’s what I do, early the next morning. Before breakfast, even. Because it’s already late afternoon in Sydney.

‘I thought jokes were meant to be funny?’ I say, when I’m put through.

‘Ashley,’ he chuckles. He and Mum are the only people I don’t correct when they call me that. ‘This is a starting point. We’ll go back with a counter offer. They’re trying their luck.’

‘She’s not having my flat.’

‘Noted, but her housing needs will be considered.’

‘What about mine? I don’t even know why she’d want the flat in London; she didn’t like it much, and her dad has loads of property.’

‘She doesn’t want the flat in London. She asked for it because it’s an asset and she’s making a point. Was it bought within the marriage?’

‘No. Before, and my brother lives in it anyway, so that has to be discounted. What about Luna? Gina’s said she needs money for school fees, but I want to handle that directly. So can we go back with that at least? Also, I want to talk about custody.’

‘We’re going to have to tread carefully here, Ashley, given your current situation,’ he sighs. ‘Your dependence on substances isn’t going to look good in family court. Your overdose will not work in your favour.’

‘But that’s why I’m here. Surely that has to count for something?’

‘We’ll present everything. But it might be decided that Luna-Moon’s best interests lie solely with her mother, at least in the beginning.’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ I say, and I can feel myself tensing up again. ‘Gina’s no angel. She’s done stuff, too. She’s not always been around. There were times she’d leave for days, and we had no idea when she was coming back. And not all the coke was mine…’

‘Respectfully, Ashley, Ms Belgiorno isn’t the one in a rehabilitation facility after a near fatal overdose. Like I said, this is an opening gambit. There’s lots of negotiation to be had, and we’ll go for a full and final settlement rather than spousal maintenance.’

‘You know Gina’s situation,’ I say, frustrated. ‘She’ll get whatever she needs, and more, from her family. They aren’t going to let her go without anything. Her father is Mick Belgiorno!’

‘I’m aware of which family Ms Belgiorno comes from,’ he says. ‘We’ll come to a fair and just division of the assets. But we need to come to an agreement that’s best for Luna-Moon.’

‘Fine,’ I say, resigned. Can’t argue with that.

‘So, email me your thoughts and I’ll put together a counter offer.’

‘They don’t want my real thoughts,’ I say, darkly.

‘It was good to talk to you, Ashley,’ he laughs. ‘I’m glad you’re in recovery.’

Gina’s preposterous request dominates my thoughts all day, and in my counselling session, when I’m asked about art therapy, I bring up that I’m working on being accountable, and how exactly I’m going about it.

‘I spoke to my divorce lawyer this morning,’ I explain, and Joshua, the counsellor, nods, and writes something on a notepad. ‘I just want things to be good for Luna, you know? I don’t want her to think I wasn’t interested. I’m not going to be a repeat of my dad.’

He writes some more. Probably something about daddy issues.

‘And this accountability, these feelings of owning your responsibilities. Is this a new thing?’

‘No,’ I say. ‘I’ve always tried to do the right thing… I mean, I know I’ve been shit at that recently, but that’s life, isn’t it?’

‘Is it?’

I stare at Joshua. ‘Of course it is,’ I say.

‘Do you think saying “that’s life” is a good demonstration of your accountability?’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ I mumble under my breath. ‘This is such crap.’

‘Didn’t quite hear that, Ash.’

Yeah, you did, I think, and I wonder what they’d say if I requested a different counsellor. Joshua always makes me feel like I’m in trouble.

‘Everyone goes through shit,’ I say. ‘But that’s what I’m here for now, right? It’s what I’ve come to work through.’

Joshua makes more notes and I look out of the window, and I don’t mention it, because I’m not sure what it means, but I keep thinking about a time when I definitely did not do the right thing, when I let someone down horribly, and it’s been on my mind a lot, way more than it has been ever before, because that someone was Esty Mackie. And being back here again has dredged it all up, and because a very small part of me isn’t convinced it wasn’t her meeting Roni that evening.