Chapter 18
Mallory
‘I relate a lot to what people say about fantasy and delusion and not living in the real world. I was once a creative, you see.’ The circle mmms approvingly.
Understandingly. As if to say: of course you are a creative.
Of course you feel crazy. It’s a tough pursuit.
‘I didn’t think I’d ever get to this point.
I honestly was in such a bad place.’ My God, it’s just coming to me, just tripping off my tongue, and they are eating it up.
Mandy in full flow. Who even is Meek Mal?
‘I never knew how hard it would become, when I started. I was young. At first, it was just fun. There were very few consequences. In fact, it was joyful. I think it’s OK to admit that, isn’t it? ’
People say, ‘Yes, of course! We must!’
Wow.
They are absolutely loving it.
Sally is leaning forward, her gaze fixed on me.
The Dickensian man is nodding away like he is having some kind of approval seizure.
Even Dez – the ultimate addict – is chewing his lip like he is learning something, smiling occasionally at the things I am saying.
The church hall suddenly feels smaller, fading away on the periphery of my vision.
There is a stillness in the air – a tension that is palpable.
I am on a stage, and there is a spotlight directly on me.
Just ride the wave. Don’t baulk.
They want it. My audience want it.
I take my metaphorical mic and choose to continue.
Give the people what they want.
‘But the longer my relationship with alcohol continued, the deeper its hooks became. And slowly but surely, the effects followed. It was toxic, because I couldn’t say no.
I needed it for everything. Every decision I made, every emotion I felt.
Without it, I had no idea how to live, how to have an opinion of myself.
It made me who I was. In its absence I had completely lost my identity.
’ I pause, taking in the circle, staring at me with their mouths open in concentration.
A raconteur. I love that word.
‘But it became such a crutch, something I kept going back to in order to feel safe, or controlled – because I felt so out of control within myself. And there was one time it took me to hospital.’ People frown.
Upset, perhaps? That works. That’s good.
They feel my pain. They relate. ‘It was very dark. I felt so lost. I had successes in my life by that point – to the outside world I was completely fine. More than fine. But I had this secret. This secret that was eroding me.’ I shake my head.
‘I chose to look at everything else as the problem.’
I am alive, my brain on fire. Even Janet now looks enthralled.
‘There is a metaphor I once read in a book,’ I say.
I actually wrote it myself in Shallow Embers.
I wonder if any of them read it? I doubt Leo has.
Maybe Sally, or Aphrodite. Oh well, I can’t seem to stop myself.
‘Let me see if I can get it right.’ I pause.
‘A bird doesn’t consider its next flight.
It trusts itself to know it has the power to move forward. ’
This nearly cripples them. Their faces contort with the weight of enlightenment.
I check for Leo’s reaction. He doesn’t look up. He’s fiddling with something in his hands. I think it might be his mobile phone.
I continue on, trying to get his attention.
I try and see myself through his eyes, and shift my words in an attempt to make them land with him.
He’s an addict. An addict. I once saw a documentary – I think it was Louis Theroux – about the opioid epidemic in America.
Those people were so lost. They had no hope.
They slept under bridges. Lost their families.
‘I never thought I could get to a point in my life where I would get out of its clutches.’ That’s good.
The clutch thing is good. ‘It is completely insidious. And what was the absolute worst was the monotony of it all. The same thing, day in, day out. The same outcomes, without ever really trying to change a thing. I knew it wasn’t what I wanted, but I never did anything about it.
Not until I started coming here. I felt like I was drowning.
And bad things happened. I was completely under its control.
Every day it gave me this pain in my stomach – in my gut.
But when I saw the light, when I got sober, it was like a light flickered on, and that’s when I knew, deep in my soul, that I needed to be brave.
I needed to rise up and take hold of my life.
And that, for me, was the moment everything changed.
’ I look directly at Leo, almost drunk on the adrenaline.
‘I think that anyone out there who is struggling should speak up and share. It’s really important to share.
’ I bow my head. ‘And I’ll end with that. ’
No one speaks.
No one utters a word.
But I can tell from their expressions that I nailed it. I completely and utterly mic-dropped. The stage lights come up, and the audience are there, staring – eyes wide. I can’t help but feel they are actually fighting the urge to applaud.
I try not to allow the thought in the back of my head that tells me I am crazy and unhinged. Because it wasn’t me speaking, was it?
It was Mandy.
Mandy, who knows her way through the world. Who is powerful. Who is clever. Who has something to say.
Mandy, who is seen.