Page 16 of Sorry, Not Sorry
‘No, no, you go first! That way I’ll know what to expect when it’s my turn.’
He looked sceptical but slid onto the worn leather chair without comment, deftly rolling up the sleeve of his shirt and laying the back of his exposed arm on the padded armrest. Delilah stood back, her mouth dry with apprehension, while Stan, the tattoo artist, wiped Noah’s forearm and got to work. Instantly nauseous, she turned her head away, but that didn’t stop the buzzing of the tattoo gun making her feel even sicker.
By the time Noah raised his arm to display Stan’s handiwork – a stylish black crown topped with the initial D – it took every ounce of her willpower not to keel over.
‘Hey, Del! Are you okay?’ Noah’s jubilant expression turned into a concerned frown.
Stan took one look at Delilah’s face and disappeared, returning moments later with a glass of water. She gulped down its contents in one go and then wiped her lips and handed Stan the empty glass with a muttered thanks. Burning with embarrassment, Delilah reached for Noah’s arm to inspect his new tattoo.
‘Do you like it?’ Hearing the doubt in his voice, she smiled at him, feeling guilty for her feeble reaction.
‘Of course I do! It’s – it’s awesome!’
‘You sure? You had me worried there for a minute.’
‘Your arm’s gone all puffy.’ She hesitated. ‘Was it really painful?’
‘It wasn’t that bad. Besides, it’s worth it for my queen. Ready to do yours?’
A fresh wave of nausea washed over her, and she clutched his arm in panic, scarcely noticing him wince at the pressure on the tender patch of skin.
‘I can’t! I thought I could, but I can’t handle the sound of that drill or having that needle stuck into me! I’m so sorry… Please don’t be upset with me.’
Noah shushed her gently and swivelled round to pull her close with his good arm. ‘It’s okay, babe. You don’t have to do it. It’s all good.’
‘I feel terrible! I love you so much and I wanted us to do this together.’
‘It’s fine. I promise. You don’t need to prove anything to me.’
‘Hey, lady! Are you planning to cross the road or what? I’m on the clock here!’ The irritated shout from the red-faced van driver leaning out of his window jolted Delilah sharply back to the present.
Mortified, she wrapped her coat tightly around her and hurried over the pedestrian crossing, picking up her pace with each step as if hoping to outrun her thoughts.
11
‘Okay, I’ll do it.’
‘Do what?’ Salome sounded baffled, and Delilah stopped pacing up and down her living room and exhaled in irritation.
‘Duh! What have you been nagging me to do since I got suspended?’
‘Oh!’ Salome exclaimed. ‘You mean the apologies?’ When Delilah remained silent, she added enthusiastically, ‘That’s brilliant, hon! It might feel a bit awkward at first, but once you’ve done the first one?—’
‘Sal, I hope you realise we’re not talking about me learning how to paint a picture or – or knit a bloody jumper here! You’re asking me to go out and find men I haven’t spoken to in years and grovel. Five different guys, all of whom will probably want to kill me! Have you any idea how terrifying that is?’
Salome sighed deeply. ‘Del, I know it won’t be easy, but I really do think that having these difficult conversations will improve your self-awareness and give you closure.’
‘I have closure,’ Delilah started, and then stopped, hearing the lack of conviction in her own voice. The session with Arne had shaken her more than she was prepared to admit, and there was nothing like sitting around aimlessly in her flat to force some introspection about her past behaviour and drive home how badly she wanted to get back to work.
‘What’s changed your mind? Was it the therapy session?’ Salome sounded curious and Delilah shrugged, not sure how to explain her decision to go along with a plan that sounded like walking into a lion’s den without a single piece of armour.
‘Maybe. Arne said it sounded like an interesting challenge. He also suggested I needed to be clear whether I was doing it for the benefit of the men I dumped or just to make myself feel good and impress Polly.’
‘And?’
‘And it’s a good question. Obviously, I want my job back, but I was thinking about what you said – you know, about how you’d want to know why someone dumped you and that you’d blame yourself if you didn’t have an explanation? If I’m honest, I’d hate it if a guy just disappeared on me. Soo, I’m thinking that as much as I hate admitting you’re right – because you can never resist saying “I told you so” – maybe this time you’ve actually got a point.’
‘I told you so!’ Salome crowed triumphantly.
