Warrior Blue

by Kelsey Kingsley

  Then her arm reached out and a hand covered mine. I considered pulling away. I thought about yanking my hand from beneath hers and tucking it into my lap, denying her the affection she’d denied me for too fucking long. That’s what the old Blake would’ve done. The angry, bitter, vibe-less Blake. The one who’d wondered if the world would’ve been a better place if he just ceased to exist. But he was gone, and in his wake was me. A strong man deserving of family and love, even from this woman sitting across from him. Because hadn’t we all been broken, in our own way? That accident twenty-four years ago had shattered us all and sent our pieces swirling in a chaotic wind. But maybe with time, those fragmented bits could come to settle in the same place. Maybe we could rebuild. Maybe we could become something better, something good.

  “He’s better with you, Blake,” Mom admitted confidently. “I’m done fighting that.”

  Then I allowed myself to smile. Because it felt like a step in the right direction.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “I WANNA GO HOME,” Jake said for what must’ve been the three-thousandth time in just a couple of days.

  The doctors were keeping him in the hospital for the time being, to undergo rehab and observation, before being discharged. By some unbelievable miracle, he hadn’t suffered any further brain damage, and now his mobility needed strengthening after weeks of lying in bed. Otherwise, he seemed to be okay, all things considered.

  To be honest, I’d seen more unbelievable things happen recently and nothing seemed to surprise me anymore.

  “I know, buddy,” I said, laying my hand on his leg. “Soon.”

  I hadn’t told him yet that he’d be staying with me. Not for a prolonged visit or a sleepover, but permanently. It was for his own good to remain in the dark for now. Knowing would’ve made him more impatient, which only meant he’d be even more difficult for his nurses and doctors. Still, keeping the secret had been tough for me, and even now, my legs jounced with the excitement.

  My eyes darted quickly to my phone as I checked the time. Dad caught the motion and asked, “Do you have to get going?”

  Reluctantly, I nodded. “Yeah. I have to be at Audrey’s place soon, and I still have to change before I can head over there.”

  “I wanna see Audrey,” Jake whined. “And Freddy.”

  “They’re coming by tomorrow, buddy, remember?” I assured him, patting his leg.

  Then, I stood up and faced my parents. “You guys good here?”

  Mom assured me with a sturdy nod. “We’re fine. Dad brought over a Lego set to do with Jake. You go, enjoy dinner. Tell Audrey and Freddy we said hi.”

  “I will,” I said, watching as Dad positioned Jake’s table over his bed. He smiled at my brother in a way I hadn’t seen in years, and I could’ve wept at the sight of him ruffling Jake’s shaggy hair. Something in that told me we’d be okay. We still had a long way to go, but I allowed myself to believe that we’d get there.

  “All right, buddy,” I said, and Jake gave me his full attention, despite the temptation of Legos. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  He caught my eyes and grinned. “You betcha.”

  ***

  In a black sweater, black leather jacket, and black pants, I felt I looked the part as much as I was ever going to. Meeting members of the family and dressing to impress … It was never going to be my thing, but for Audrey, I was willing to put in more of an effort.

  I was nervous, though. Tonight, I’d be seeing my shrink, Dr. Vanessa Travetti, as strictly Vanessa, the girlfriend of Audrey’s late sister. I didn’t know what to expect from that or how I was supposed to behave. I wondered if I should style my hair differently, to make myself less like the Blake she knew inside her office. But I resisted the urge and decided I was fine, before heading over to the other side of town.

  Passing by St. Peter’s on the way to Audrey’s, I smiled at the Christmas Eve Mass crowd, blocking the view of the crowded headstones behind the wrought iron fence. Maybe next year, I’d find myself there, with my parents and brother, the way we used to. Maybe I’d even bring Audrey and Freddy along as well, despite her insistence that she didn’t need Church to feel close to God. But for now, I just looked up high, to rest my gaze on the cross within the bricked exterior and nodded my head in thanks.

  When I got to Audrey’s place, I grinned at her house, decorated to the nines in twinkling lights, plastic reindeer, and a wooden Nativity scene, among other decorations. If these people loved Halloween, they were absolutely obsessed with Christmas, and that didn’t surprise me much. I burrowed my hands in my pockets, moving up the walkway toward the porch, when Jason stepped outside with his baby daughter, Eliza.

  “Hey, it’s the Tattoo Guy!” he bellowed excitedly, extending a hand. “Good to see you, man. Merry Christmas!”

  “Merry Christmas,” I greeted him, as we shook. “What are you guys doing out here?”

  “Just getting a little fresh air,” he said, rocking Eliza gently. “I was so happy to hear Jake’s doing well.”

  I smiled at the sentiment. “Thanks. Yeah, he should be home soon.”

  “Amazing. Talk about a Christmas miracle, right?” His smile was infectious, and I allowed my grin to broaden.

  “Yeah. Seriously.”

  Clapping a hand against his shoulder, I told him I’d see him inside, before pushing through the door, heavily adorned with garland and lights. The house was packed with neighbors, friends, and what little I recognized of her family—more specifically, her cousins, Regina and Nicole. I hadn’t seen them since that night at the poetry club, but they noticed me right away.

  They rushed toward me with drinks in hand, wishing me a merry Christmas and saying it was so nice to see me again.

  “We’ve heard you’ve made quite the impact on our girl,” Nicole commented, brushing her arm against mine. “I bawled like a baby when she told me you love her. I can’t handle that type of shit right now. Not until I get this kid out of me, at least.”

  I chuckled. “I’ll assume that’s water in your glass, then.”

  Wagging a finger at me, she tsk-tsked. “Pretending it’s wine, thank you very much.”

  Regina nudged her head over her shoulder toward the stairs. “Audrey’s upstairs, if you’re looking for her. She’s been driving herself crazy all day, getting ready for this shindig, so lay the compliments on thick, okay?”

  Chuckling again, I nodded. “Noted.”

  I headed upstairs to her parents’ part of the house. There, I found Audrey and her mother, bustling around the kitchen in aprons and oven mitts, while listening to a rendition of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” I’d heard a time or two before—I think it was Coldplay. I leaned against the doorframe and watched her, in her cranberry red velvet dress and glistening curls, until she turned and spotted me through startled blue eyes.

  “Good Lord, Blake!” she shouted, pressing her hand to her heart.

  “For someone so big, you’re pretty quiet,” Ann commented, smirking in my direction.

  “I told you, I’m a vampire,” I joked as Audrey came to stand closer to me. I slipped my hand around her waist and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  “How could I forget?” she whispered, standing on her toes to kiss my jaw. “Kiefer.”

  I smiled fondly at the nickname and asked, “Can I help with anything?”

  “Yeah,” Ann said in a demanding tone, “you can take this one and get her the hell out of my kitchen.”

  “Mom,” Audrey began to protest, but Ann was hearing none of it. She leveled her daughter with a stern glare and said, “You’ve done enough. Now, go. I’m fine in here.”

  With a pout, Audrey threw down her mitts and apron and allowed me to steer her out of the kitchen and down the stairs. She took control then and pulled me into her apartment, closing us off from the party outside, and when I asked what she was up to, she told me she wanted to give me one of my presents.

  Raising a brow and grinning suggestively, I asked, “Y
ou wanna do that right now? With all those people out there?”

  Audrey shoved playfully against my arm and rolled her eyes dramatically. “That’s happening later. But this can’t wait. Honestly, I’ve waited long enough,” and then, she hurried to the mantle in her living room and produced a notebook. She handed it to me in a way that felt reluctant.

  “What is this?” I asked, eyeing the worn cover.

  “It’s Sabrina’s journal.”

  Wide-eyed, I swallowed, clenching the book in my grasp. “You’re giving this to me?”

  “Well, not exactly,” she said slowly, then took it back into her hands. As she flipped it open and thumbed through the pages, she explained, “Sabrina always kept journals, ever since she was a little kid—I was the poet, she was the writer. After she died, my parents gave me her box of journals, thinking I’d want them, but I couldn’t bring myself to read them. She treated them so privately while she was alive, so reading them after she was gone felt too much like snooping through her secrets, you know?”

  “Hm,” I grunted, nodding and continuing to watch her flip through the pages.

  “But after I met you and Jake, seeing your relationship with him made me miss Sabrina so much, I wanted to feel closer to her.”

  “You didn’t tell me that,” I muttered, almost defensively, and she smiled into my eyes.

  “I’m not sure you would’ve listened to me then,” she replied pointedly, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “Touché.”

  She opened to a particular page and continued saying, “Anyway, I started reading her journals a couple months ago. At first, it felt like prying, but then, it just felt nice, to see her handwriting and to read her thoughts. But then, one night, I came across this entry, and I knew you needed to read it.” She turned the book around to face me and passed it to my opened palms.

  Eyeing the scrawled scripture, I asked, “Why?”

  “Because you asked why she got the tattoo.”

  My breath whispered from my lungs as I held the book in my hands and turned to her couch. Deaf to the chatter and laughter behind her front door, I sat down and braced myself. I don’t know why I felt I had to. Maybe it was just the finality of having a definitive answer to a question I’d had months ago, assuming I’d never get one. Or it could’ve been the fear of a letdown, a mundane explanation for something that had quite literally changed my life in every possible way. But whatever it was, I swallowed my apprehension and began to read.

  “God, what a mixed bag of a day.

  It started with a doctor’s appointment. I don’t feel well, I don’t feel right, and I told the doctor as much. But all he could tell me is everything looks the same and that I have nothing to worry about. But come on. I’m dying. I know I am, I can feel it in everything I do. Like this could be the last time I write in this book and that wouldn’t be a surprise to me. It’s a feeling I have that I can’t help, and I’m not sure I’d even classify it as a scary one. It’s just weird. And a little sad, too, but only because I’m worried I won’t do everything I need to before this part is over.

  I can’t talk about this to Vanessa anymore, though. She cried so much tonight. It’s like she’s already mourning, and I hate that. I mean, I get it—I’m not sure I’d be any different, if it was the other way around—but I’m still here. I worry so much about what’ll happen to her after I’m gone. I worry she’ll close herself off, and I just hope someone walks into her life who can give her purpose. She needs that.

  Ugh. Okay. Too heavy. Let’s get to the good stuff.

  I got my tattoo! I wrote about the idea a while ago, but I finally did it tonight. And it is gorgeous.

  I fell in love with this artist on Instagram. His name is Blake Carson and he works at Salem Skin. His work is breathtaking in this gritty, gothic sort of way and it’s a total understatement to say I’ve been drooling over his work. I mean, I’ve been completely and utterly obsessed with his artwork for years, and I’ve wanted to get something done by him for about as long. Honestly, it’s stupid that I haven’t done it sooner, but I guess I just thought I had time. But today I woke up knowing so affirmatively that my days were severely numbered, and after Vanessa went home, I went over to Salem Skin. I didn’t even make an appointment, even though his Instagram page strictly says he works by appointment only. I just walked in there, told this girl with dreadlocks that I needed to see him specifically, and when he came out from the back, I got the most bizarre feeling. I wish I could adequately express how I felt, but all I can say is, I knew that meeting him meant something. I don’t know how or why, but I just knew. So weird.

  Anyway, Blake asked me what I wanted to do and when I wanted to come in, and I told him I needed to do it right away. The look he gave me made me laugh, like I had some audacity making demands, and he said I could make an appointment and come back another day. But I wouldn’t leave.”

  I looked up from the book laid open in my lap and met Audrey’s eyes with an urgent, sincere recollection. “I remember her,” I declared with clarity. “Holy shit, I actually remember her. She was so fucking adamant, telling me she needed this tattoo done right now, and I was just thinking, who the fuck does this chick think she is?”

  Audrey laughed, swiping her fingertips beneath her eyes. “Yeah. Sabrina was pretty intense sometimes. She came on pretty strong.”

  “You have that in common,” I told her, smirking gently before turning my gaze back on the book.

  “I told him it was very important I get the tattoo done right away, because I wasn’t sure how long I’d be around. I didn’t clarify what that meant, but his demeanor changed and he looked at me as if he knew. Then, he just nodded and said in this really cool way, ‘Okay, let’s do it.’ He didn’t even ask what I wanted. He just agreed to doing my tattoo, whatever it was, and took me into the back.

  I knew I liked him before, but that really solidified it.

  So, when he did ask what I wanted, I explained it to him. I wanted a black Swallowtail, one half in color with its yellow markings, surrounded by a splashy watercolor sapphire blue. And then, the other half entirely in black and white, with his signature grittiness. I wanted it to blend seamlessly from color to black and white, from pretty to gritty, and I swear I thought he’d say no at that point. Because this isn’t what he does. I don’t know what happened, though, because he was just nodding slowly while I described it to him, and then he grabbed his sketchbook. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t protest, didn’t even make a face. He just drew it up and we got to work.

  I can safely say that it’s the most gorgeous thing about my stupid, broken, dying body.

  I didn’t tell him what the butterfly means, but he didn’t ask either. Honestly, I’ve only told Audrey. I won’t even tell Vanessa, because I don’t think she can handle it. But I’ll write it here: it’s life.

  In the beginning, we are born in our purest form. We then become ourselves during the stage between caterpillar to butterfly, so colorful and full of beautiful possibility, and we believe, with the blindest of hope, that we’ll be perfect forever. That time is endless. That there is a multitude of chances, of opportunities. Until one day, the reality of mortality settles in deep and dark, and we suddenly become aware of how limited we are. It is all so black and white. There is no grey. We live and we die, and there’s nothing more to it than that.

  But God, isn’t it still so beautiful?

  Oh! And one more thing: The no-questions-asked compassion from this guy was so unlikely, considering his tough-as-nails exterior, and all I could think was, he’d be so freakin’ perfect for Audrey.”

  I closed the book with an irritating lump sticking relentlessly in my throat. Try as I might, I couldn’t dislodge the damn thing as I sniffed and regained my composure, before my eyes met Audrey’s again.

  “I didn’t remember the tattoo,” I admitted again. “I don’t even remember doing it on her, but I’m glad I at least remember her.”

  “You don’t remember why y
ou did it? Not even now, after reading that?”

  I shook my head regrettably. “I really wish I did. But the only thing I can think is, her insistence had been so urgent, I knew it was really important; it had to be. That meant more than my ego.”

  Audrey nodded as she slipped the journal from my hands and held it to her chest. “I’m glad you could make her happy. I’m so glad that, of everybody she could’ve gone to, it was you.”

  “So am I.”

  Then, I stood and cocooned her in my arms. “Thank you for letting me read that.”

  “You’re welcome,” she whispered against my chest, and then she sniffed a gentle laugh. “And Sabrina was right; you really are so freakin’ perfect for me.”

  ***

  Audrey told me she was worried Vanessa wouldn’t come, but when we exited her apartment, I spotted a familiar face through the stained-glass window in the door. A gasp escaped Audrey’s glossy lips as she unwound my arm from her waist and hurried toward the door to throw it open. There stood Vanessa Travetti, already with tears in her eyes at the sight of Audrey.

  “Oh, my God,” Audrey could barely say before throwing her arms around Vanessa. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

  “I can’t believe it either,” Vanessa admitted, weeping gently and hugging Audrey tight.

  Her gaze crossed the foyer to where I stood, still in the doorway where Audrey had left me, and she smiled gently as she mouthed, “Hi.” I lifted a hand in a wave before approaching the door with hands in my pockets and a smile gradually tugging at my lips.

  “Blake,” Vanessa greeted me as she took a step back from Audrey’s tight embrace.

  “Doc.”

  She grinned and shook her head. “I think you can call me Vanessa here.”

  Shaking my head, I wrinkled my nose and said, “Nah. You’ll always be Doc to me.”

  She hugged me then, wrapping her arms around my neck tightly and I wrapped mine around her waist. She pressed her cheek to mine and whispered, “Merry Christmas, Blake,” like it was a secret, a sentiment shared only between us. I nodded, hugging her tightly, and whispered back, “Merry Christmas, Doc.”