Katherine reminded me that I was still worthy of love and respect.
Her parting words were a remedy for my tortured mind, as well as the fixed point around which I sought to build a new life.
KATHERINE BY DIMITRIS PASSAS 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 131
Katherine touched me lightly on the shoulder and said, “We love you Dimitris, we all do.” It was the darkest period of my life. I was addicted to drugs. This was all too evident in my bent body, pallid skin, my eyes that couldn’t focus on anything even for a fraction of a second, and my disjointed speech. It was apparent to anyone who knew me that something was seriously off-kilter.
Katherine, my mother’s sister-in-law, and a doctor, picked me up in her car and drove us down the coastal highway that runs by several high-end cafeterias.
I almost immediately confessed my troubles, but not in extensive detail, and provided the requisite details that shone a kaleidoscopic light on my day-to-day hardships. She let me do most of the talking in the beginning and refrained from commenting, exempting me from the burden of being scolded for my unsavory life choices. Instead, she strived to promote an optimistic scenario in which I would quit hard drugs and start working on her new home’s building site.
I thought the idea was outrageous. How was I supposed to quit drugs, which millions of people around the world struggled to quit? And working as a builder’s labourer? The idea felt as alien as flying saucers.
When I’m thinking about it today I feel so grateful that she approached me with the best of intentions, not in the least judgmental, and was willing to offer tangible help, not mere words that in such cases sound like complicated airflow.
I denied her help despite having no plausible excuse. But she understood. I knew she did. I was going through hell and she had thoroughly grasped my predicament. She didn’t attempt to patronize or lecture me on the ills of heroin abuse. Besides it would be ridiculous and odd to list the harm from the drugs as I was the one on the receiving end of all the devastating consequences either way.
After the first half hour or so my paranoia skyrocketed. I thought that everyone around us in the crammed café by the beach was looking at me, mocking and taunting me.
That prompted me to make another confession to Katherine, about my brush with bipolar mania. When I told her that for months I imagined I possessed supernatural healing abilities, she started mentioning mental health institutions and the possible help that they could provide in a case like mine.
That was enough. It was my troubles were my own business and nobody else’s. Katherine sensed my anger and opted for silence. She drove me home.
Before I opened the car door she touched me lightly on my shoulder and I turned my head to face her. “We love you Dimitris, we all do, you must keep that in mind. We will be there for you every step of the way when you decide it’s time”. Then we said our farewells with a soft kiss on each cheek. As I closed the car door behind me I wondered what she meant by “we”. The thought kept churning in my head days after I last saw her.