Scars from a Memoir Read Online Free

situation was…different.
    “I know what you're going through.” Al reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. “Ten years clean.” He held the coin up in the air.
    When Mark had busted me smoking dope in the bathroom, he hadn't even been mad. He took me into his office, stayed with me while I nodded out, then sent me home to rest. Now it all made sense.
    Al described the responsibilities of the job, the pay, and how after three months he would give me benefits. “So what do you say?”
    The pay was more than I was expecting.
    “Can I let you know in the morning?” I asked.
    “Of course,” Al said. He moved over to me and shook my hand. “It was a pleasure.”
    I thanked Mark, and we walked out of the office together. His pace matched mine. He followed me to the door, opening it, but he stopped in the doorway.
    “I'd love for you to come work for me again.”
    “The bar wouldn't be good for my sobriety.”
    “That's why I didn't ask. I hope you'll consider what Al's offering. It's a great opportunity.”
    “I will.”
    His expression was so inviting, his lips slightly parted in a soft smile and his eyes flirting with their slow blinks. “I appreciate you helping me out, Mark,” I said, stepping out onto the sidewalk.
    The compassion Mark had shown during the interview was because of Al's addiction. But I still had questions about why he'd tried to have sex with me in the hallway before Eric had found us. I needed to ask him, but today wasn't the right time.
    During my walk home, I thought about what my dad had said at the graduation ceremony. Too many things had happened here. Because I'd taken a plea and ratted everyone out, both of my drug dealers and their gangs were in jail. But they had friends who could be looking for me. Although Mark wasn't involved in that mess, he was someone I had mistreated and used, too. He had forgiven me. That didn't mean the next person would.
    I unlocked the door to our apartment, and just as I touched the knob to the bathroom, it was yanked from my hand and opened from the other side. I lost my balance. Before I hit the ground, Tiffany pulled me upright and walked me over to the couch. She sat next to me. “What happened? You don't look right.”
    Even though I wasn't proud of what I'd done to Mark, my counselor—Allison—had told me not to keep anything in. That was what NA meetings and a sponsor were for. I didn't want to burden Tiffany with any more of my drama, but she was my sponsor and it sounded like she wanted to hear it. I told her the whole story. Not just that Al had offered me a job but that I knew Mark and what had happened between us.
    “I'm really proud of you,” Tiffany said.
    “I got the job because of Mark, not because I earned it.”
    “That's not why I'm proud.” She pulled my fingers into her hand and squeezed. “Mark was in your life when you first started using heroin. Those memories of being high at his bar and nodding out in his bathroom could have easily triggered you to use, Nicole. But you didn't.”
    Heroin's voice woke me in the middle of every night and early in the morning. It was the silence between my breaths.
    “Dope will always be there,” she said. “But maybe not in the forefront of your thoughts.”
    “This is the first time it hasn't been.”
    “It won't be the last.”

-3-
    DURING MY SECOND INTERVIEW, the manager held my résumé up to his face, the paper clamped between his hairy fingers like a cigarette. Without putting it down, he asked why I'd been unemployed for so long. Tiffany had told me to say I'd been out of work due to health problems because she didn't think an employer was allowed to ask specifics. He didn't, but he moved the page a little, eyeing me. He started at my forehead, and when he got to my lips, he asked if I'd ever been convicted of a felony. He paused at my chest. The meeting ended when he finally noticed I was nodding my head. Before I left the coffee shop, he said he'd be in touch, but