by R C Barnes
“I’m sorry about your mother,” Nikko said. “She was a gorgeous lady. I liked her a lot. A friend of mine was thinking about going to her to get some work done.”
I wondered if the friend he was referring to was Mike or Gates.
“This ink isn’t fresh,” I said. “Why did you come to see my mother a few weeks ago?”
“She called me and said she was offering a special for previous clients. She insisted I come in the following day for a consultation.”
“She didn’t actually do any ink work?” I asked.
“No, we just talked about what I might want. I thought I might get a taco on my ankle.” (What is it with men and food?) I hoped my face did not reflect the derision I was feeling inside, and I like tacos.
The word written next to Nikko’s name had been “howl.” I was pretty sure this was the tattoo I was supposed to focus on, but just to be sure, I asked: “Do you have any other inkwork?”
“This is the only one Terry Wynters did. But here I have two others.” He lifted his shirt and showed me a cactus on his stomach and then slid the whole shirt off so I could see the snake inked on his bicep. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Rueben tapping Joanie to make sure she noted a man had just disrobed in front of me. Joanie looked over and then looked away as if this was just a daily occurrence in the life of Bess Wynters. After a second passed, Nikko pulled his T-shirt back on. The other two tattoos were unremarkable. The wolfman was clearly the work of art.
I thanked Nikko and took a table in the cafe. Joanie and Rueben joined me. Joanie had purchased a cup of chai tea and laid it down in front of me. Even when she’s angry, she is still thoughtful. I told them the story about Nikko and his compadres.
“Maybe we should check out those sausages” was Rueben’s predictable response.
Joanie had out the sheet with the notations and the puzzle. She underlined “werewolf” under the howl clue my mother had left. It’s funny how we all correctly assumed howl was about a werewolf.
“What does howl mean? Freedom?” she asked. “A release? That’s like empowerment or a change of perspective a person has about themselves.” Joanie was now convinced Ariel’s story about losing her virginity to the skater boy was also about empowerment. Even though her lover had been older, Ariel had decided she would go through with the sexual act.
“Okay,” I agreed. “Then let’s say the theme is empowerment. Now connect a crab to empowerment. Or a lyre. Willingham’s story appeared to be about empowerment denied, not achieved.”
“But empowerment is still part of the theme.” Rueben jumped in. “It could be like those essays we have to write where the format demands we present the positives, but also mention the negatives, the opposing view.”
Willingham’s tattoo still bothered me. It was like one of those itches that never goes away when you scratch it. I kept having the notion the lyre was not a lyre. The inked design told me a story about a boy who connected to space stuff, not music, or even baking cupcakes. I was certain Willingham had lied to me about his tattoo. His story was about space. But then how did space connect to empowerment? I also don’t see how you make Ian Kramer’s story with the crab about empowerment or even anti-empowerment.
Back at the house, I mentioned my “eureka” moment with Echo and that the stories or tattoos were pieces of a bigger puzzle to my friends. That got everybody thinking.
On the board, Joanie added keywords next to each inked image that were, as she put it, the essence of the story. Rueben argued what she meant was “Theme,” but Joanie insisted “essence” was a better term, and she didn’t care Rueben was taking AP English, and she wasn’t. So next to Xtina’s cow was the word “vengeance.” Willingham had the word “denied” next to his lyre. Ariel’s unicorn had the word “desire.” Nikko’s wolfman had the word “joy,” and Ian’s crab had the word “sorrow.”
Rueben reached across Joanie and added, “covet” to the lyre, “lust” to the unicorn, and “envy” to the cow.
“What are you doing?” Joanie cried. She slapped Rueben’s hand away.
“I was looking to see if this could be the seven deadly sins.”
“Get out of here, would you,” Joanie said. She was clearly irritated. “This is not about the seven deadly sins. This is not the movie, Seven.”
“But, maybe -” Rueben continued to argue.
“Stop.” Joanie held up her hand with the palm out. “This is not about sin. I know about sin, and this puzzle is not about sin.” She looked at the board for a beat and then added, “I think this puzzle is about love.”
I decided to intervene. “Joanie’s right. My mother wouldn’t leave clues around that had anything to do with sin or judgment.”
Rueben was looking at Joanie with a curious expression. “How did you see the movie Seven? That movie is rated “R”?
Joanie glared at Rueben. He was riding her last nerve. “You don’t have to see the movie to know what goes on it. Especially a movie like that. I know what’s in the box. And by the way, I can talk about Fight Club too.”
“You’re not supposed to talk about Fight Club,” was Rueben’s response.
A hint of a smile tugged at Joanie’s mouth. When I saw it, I knew they had just buried the hatchet.
Both Joanie and Rueben wanted to solve the puzzle just as much as I did. Rueben because of the intellectual challenge, and Joanie because it meant safety for my family. And me, well, it also meant safety for me but in a much more authentic sense. We got carried off into the topic of movies with cult fandoms attached to them, and I forgot to ask Joanie what she meant when she said the Maxine board was about love.
RUNES
I listened, stunned, as the woman on the other end of the receiver told me her daughter had passed away three weeks ago. The information was not processing. This was impossible. Emily, the E in Maxine, was dead.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong,” I quickly added, as the words were inconsiderate to a grieving mother.
“Where did you say you were calling from?” asked the woman. Aggression had crept into her voice.
“I’m calling from Cosmic Hearts tattoo studio,” I explained. “Emily had an appointment scheduled, and I was following up to see if she was happy with the ink work and if there were any questions.”
“Well, she didn’t make the appointment, did she?” the mother snapped. “How come you don’t know that?”
“I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I’m not the tattoo artist. I’m just making the follow-up calls. There was nothing here indicating she didn’t make the session. My condolences for your loss.” I was about to end the call when a thought crossed my mind. “Did she have a tattoo of a mouse?” I asked.
The woman hung up on me.
Not knowing what to do or think, I wandered into the living room and pulled back the curtains to look outside. I stared out onto the street, not really looking at anything in particular. I just needed someplace to direct my eyes. I sipped the remains of my tea as I mulled over the situation. It seemed like everything had just taken a sudden dive into Hellville.
If Emily didn’t make the appointment, how could she be the E in Maxine? There had been two other names listed in the schedule, but they didn’t contribute to the Maxine puzzle. I believed they were vendors. The other name written in there was Elizabeth. Was that me? I assumed it was me. But why did she write Elizabeth and not Bess? Was it intended to throw Todd off? I believed she hadn’t written my full name because that would have drawn attention to this page. Still, looking at the sheet again, the writing of “mouse” was slanted just enough for it to be argued it was me and not Emily.
I thought back to events and conversations occurring several weeks ago. Was I supposed to go into the tattoo shop on Thursday? Yes, I was. But I didn’t. Was it essential I didn’t do the errand she had asked? No. If it were important for me to show up, my mother would have said so. She would have demanded I come. But she had contacted me so she could write my name in the appoint
ment book. If Emily died three weeks ago, it’s possible my mother already knew. Or at least knew Emily couldn’t be confirmed. Emily could have been an early entry, and then when my mother couldn’t get a hold of her, she had added my given name into the appointment book, so she would have an “E.”
Am I the mouse?
I ruminated over what this additional information meant when my phone buzzed. It was Joanie. I answered.
“Go to the Atomic Allure website,” she said.
“I’m not home. I’m with Luther.”
“Doesn’t he have a computer? Go to the Atomic Allure website.”
“Just a sec.” She was snippy, so I didn’t want to argue with her.
I found Luther in the kitchen. He was heating up a couple of frozen pizzas in the oven. He saw me and took my mug so he could refresh my tea. Luther had his music going, and Billie Holiday was singing she would see me in all the familiar places.
“Why do you play that?” I asked.
He looked at me, puzzled. “I like Billie Holiday.”
“That’s my mother’s favorite song, you know.”
“Yes, I know. Terry burned this CD for me long time ago. It’s got Holiday, Nina Simone, Sade, Aretha Franklin, Etta James…” He pointed to the oven. “You hungry? These pizzas should be ready in about ten minutes.”
“Sure,” I said. “Hey, I need to look up something on your laptop. Is that okay?”
“It’s in the bedroom. I’ll bring it out.”
I told Joanie to hold on while Luther went to fetch his computer. She didn’t dive into chit chat to cover the silence as we waited. Was she still angry at me? Probably. I sipped my tea.
Holiday’s fragile voice created a haunting mood in the kitchen as she continued to sing about seeing me. Everybody wants to be seen.
I took a seat at the kitchen table, and Luther placed his open laptop in front of me. I typed Atomic Allure in the search bar and was immediately taken to the studio’s website.
“Okay, I’m there,” I said to Joanie. “Now what?”
I looked up at Luther standing in the doorway and gestured to the CD player.
“Why do you still listen to it? Doesn’t it make you sad?”
He shook his head. “I loved Terry. I still love her. These songs remind me of what we had. Even though it’s over, there are good memories, and I intend to hold onto them.”
“Listening to it on a CD player is old school, you know.”
Luther smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Holliday continued to sing about finding a loved one in the sun in the morning and the moon at night. The melody lingered.
Joanie was telling me her father still used his CD player as well, and then she instructed me to look at the photo of the pole dance instructors Ariel Sanchez was in.
“Didn’t you say Ariel saw your mother a couple of times?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Did it take more than one session to do the unicorn?” Joanie hadn’t seen the tattoo, but Rueben and I had described it in detail.
“No, probably not, but it would have been a long one.”
“What other tattoos on Ariel’s body did your mother do?” Joanie asked.
Looking at the photo, it was hard to tell. Ariel had about twelve that you could see in the picture, and the unicorn had been on her shoulder blade, so it was not visible in the featured photo.
Joanie had another question. “Did you ask Ariel if the unicorn was done on the day before your mother was —” She didn’t want to say the rest, but I got her drift.
No. No, I hadn’t. I had assumed. It was the largest tattoo on Ariel’s body, and it was definitely my mother’s work. I rushed the situation because of the pending party, and Tina taking up so much time talking about her ink. I sucked at this detective thing. I admitted my faux pas to Joanie.
“Are we going to have to go back and see her?” I asked. It had been so hard to get to Ariel the first time.
“I don’t think so,” Joanie responded. “Look at her hand. The one on the pole.”
Ariel’s right hand was wrapped around the pole as she posed with the other teachers. You could see there were small tattoos on her fingers. They looked like circles. I squinted my eyes and leaned closer to the screen. “What are those?” I asked.
“They’re runes,” Joanie answered. “Almost all the other tattoos on Ariel’s body are versions of runes. If your mother inked her more than once, then some had to be done by your mother.”
“How do you know this?”
“When you’re a Witness, you learn a lot about other beliefs, especially pagan ones, because of the pioneering work we do in other countries.”
“Color me impressed,” I said.
Joanie snorted. “I’ll get back to you. I’m going to look up what those runes mean.”
She hung up, leaving me to wonder if our friendship was still intact. Outside of commenting her father also listened to CDs, Joanie was focused on solving the puzzle, and not talking to me. Maybe that was just so she could close the door on our friendship when things were done. Once we solved Maxine, Joanie could go and find another friend who didn’t lie to her at the drop of a hat.
It was selfish thinking on my part, but I had always thought her religious beliefs made her an oddball at school; that she would be alone if Rueben and I hadn’t taken her in. The last year had shown me I was viewing it wrong. Joanie was liked and accepted by others. Heck, the cheerleading squad had begged her to join even though she was a klutz and wouldn’t wear their super short skirts. The cheerleading squad wasn’t banging down my door asking me to try out, that’s for sure.
“Wow. You look…you look…bummed.” Luther had returned to the kitchen.
I shrugged. I didn’t want to tell him I was worried Joanie was dumping me as a friend.
Luther opened the oven and removed the pizzas, placing them on the stove to let them cool before slicing them up. He glanced at the laptop screen open to Atomic Allure and gave me a quizzical look. “Are you and Joanie planning on taking classes?” he asked.
“Hahaha.”
“Who’s that?” He pointed at Ariel Sanchez.
“She was a client of Terry’s.”
“Cute.”
“Yes?”
“I’m just stating a fact. Don’t make too much of it.”
I got a text from Joanie. It said, “The rune symbols on her fingers are the phases of the moon. Solved it.”
I jumped up. The chair fell back on the floor. “I’ve gotta go,” I said.
“What??” My sudden movement had startled Luther.
“I’ve gotta go. Call Ollie and have him bring Echo here. Right now.”
“Okay?” The concern was all over his face.
“I’ll be alright. Just have Ollie come here with Echo. I’ll be right back. Everyone should be in one place. I figured out Maxine.”
(Actually, Joanie had)
“Who’s Maxine?” Luther yelled as I flew out the door.
MOUSETRAP
I ran. Yesterday, Joanie had said the puzzle was about love. I barely registered the comment, believing it was Joanie channeling Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.
But she was right; the mystery was about love.
Billie Holiday’s emotional and melancholy voice floated through my head. I continued to hear the lyrics to “I’ll Be Seeing You,” my mother’s favorite song.
“Do you want to see something?” she asked.
“Yes,” I had responded.
As I ran, the images of the past flooded my memory. They were vivid and sharp. I fixed my eyes ahead on my destination, which was still a mile away. I cursed to myself that in my desire to visit with Luther, I had stashed my bicycle near Alta Bates hospital so the police wouldn’t know where I was. It wasn’t just the police, of course, but Todd as well.
The memories continued to pour over me like a shower of gold. How had I not seen it? It was so obvious. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
“Shhhhh.�
� My mother in the past had placed her finger gently across her lips. A smile spread over her face. This was the beginning of a game.
“What?” I was interested. At that time of my life, everything she did was fascinating to me. I was four. She was my world.
Look at my hiding place. It’s perfect for a mouse - like you. I can put teeny tiny things in there. Look, I’m going to draw this big heart on a piece of paper and fold it up and hide it in there. That’s my special love for you. And you know what else? This spot is right behind Spiderwand’s moon.
The winking moon?
Yes, the winking moon on the other side. Whenever I wink at you, that’s code for ‘I love you’ because my heart is behind the winking moon.
As I raced to the studio, the game all came back to me. My mother had her secrets and her games, and this had been my initiation into her creative expressions. My mother liked to have something mean something else, like her crossword puzzles. When I was a child, a wink said love.
I remembered how quickly I discarded the game when Luther came into our lives. Luther declared his love loudly. He hugged me with arms that bore no tattoos and told me his love was unconditional. There were no secrets or whispers. With Terry, there were always riddles and games.
Had she stopped winking at me? Or had I stopped looking for the winks? Maybe I had believed her love for me had faded as she pursued men and craved more children. All of this seemed so long ago, and the answers were grains of sand, passing through my fingers. Perhaps they were answers that didn’t need to be spoken. Despite what I believed; my mother had never stopped loving me. She had never stopped seeing me.
The building was right in front of me. I stopped running and gasped for breath as I stared at the mural, Spiderwand’s masterpiece. The depiction of the cosmos merged with humanity. There it all was, right there for me to see - images I had gazed at throughout my childhood. Still, I had blindly (or stubbornly) refused to put together the message my mother was sending me. When had I stopped marveling at Spiderwand’s painting? When had I allocated it to merely a colorful background of the past?
