“I don’t do cool on a whim. Especially not something you may regret,” I told the kid and sent him away.
The guys at work think I’m nuts. They’ll ink anything on anybody, no matter what the reason. But, reason does matter. And a rash decision leads to regrets. I’m not going to be the one leaving a lifelong regret on someone’s body.
“Hi, I’m Alex,” I say to the woman Peggy points out.
She is about fifty and stands. “Patricia.”
“Come on back and tell me what you need.”
She follows me to my station and then hands me an old, wrinkled piece of school book paper. “Can you put this on the inside of my left arm?”
“You get what you expect.” ~ Mom.
I’ve had phrases before and pictures, but I haven’t heard this one.
I hold the chair out for her and then settle in mine. “Why do you need this?” I’ve learned now not to use the word want. Need is more appropriate, and their reaction and response will tell me everything, almost, that I need to know.
A sad smile comes to her lips. “That’s what mom always told me. If you expect the bad that’s what you’re going to get because you’re looking for it. If you expect the positive, it will happen.”
“Did it always work out that way?”
Patricia chuckles quietly. “No, but I learned to appreciate the positive in most situations.”
“Why do you need this now?”
She swipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “She’s got dementia. We had to move her from the house she’s lived in for thirty years last month. I can’t get past the betrayal of doing the one thing she never wanted.”
“Did you need to?” I ask quietly.
“Yeah. She couldn’t live alone anymore, and none of us could move in, nor do we have big enough places for her to move in with us.” Patricia looks down at her lap. “And, she needs someone with her twenty-four/seven, which is impossible.”
She’s worrying her fingers together, and I put my hand over hers. “Hey, you can’t blame yourself for circumstances beyond your control.”
Her green eyes look up into mine. “I know, but it doesn’t lessen the guilt of putting her in a place she hates, even if it’s the safest place for her.”
“And that’s why you need this now?” I want her to tell me more, but she has said enough.
“When I read it, I can hear her voice saying those words to me while I was growing up.” She dabs the corner of her eye. “And I so desperately want to believe that I can expect something positive from this. She’s not going to get better, and most likely worse, but I need to believe that this was the best decision and expect whatever positive can come from it.”
Patricia needs this tattoo. Things are not going to get better for her mom, but maybe the decision she had to make will get easier to accept in time. “Do you have a sample of her handwriting? I think it would be nice if we could do the script in her hand.”
A soft smile comes to her lips. “That is Mom’s handwriting. She gave me that note when I was sixteen. Right before I was headed off to school to audition for the school play.”
“Did you get the part you wanted?”
She chuckles. “No. That would have been the lead.”
Not exactly the answer I was hoping for.
“But, I got a part. The one I should have wanted from the very beginning. I just couldn’t see anything past the leading role.”
Patricia and I chat as I do her tattoo. I really like her, and she has some interesting stories. By the time I’m wrapping her arm she’s smiling and thanking me.
“Peggy! Peggy!” Martha screams and I bolt from my station and run to the front to find Peggy on the floor, staring up at the ceiling with Martha leaning over her screaming her name.
“I’m going to cut to the chase,” Mrs. Smith says after I take a seat in front of her desk. “We don’t take on student teachers usually.”
“Why is that?” And why am I different.
“They are usually young, naive men and women who these students will chew up and spit out before lunch.”
If she’s trying to scare me away, it isn’t going to work.
“They still lack life experience. You already have it in abundance.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“More than you think.” She leans forward. “These kids don’t respect anyone. They have no hope. The dropout rate is astronomical, and their grades are in the toilet.” She leans back again and crosses her arms over her belly. “This is a tough school. Fights daily, gangs and drugs. We do what we can, but we can’t fight the no hope. They can’t see beyond their neighborhood. They can’t see beyond the future of an early grave, or never getting a job.” She shakes her head. “I caught a kid with cheap whisky the other day. Took it away and told him to wait until he was old enough. You know what he told me?”
“No.”
“By the time I’m 21 I’ll be in jail or dead. That’s the outlook of most of the kids in this school.”
I don’t think I ever felt that helpless. But, I had Brandon. We did have plans. We were trying to figure out how to have a better life. We had dreams. “These kids don’t have dreams?”
“Some do, maybe more than I think, but more don’t than do and it’s a damn shame.” She leans forward again. “Every semester we give the same speeches. Work on your grades. You can succeed. We bring in someone who had a rough start in life and made it big.”
“It doesn’t work?”
“No. they complain that it’s one person--one got out and made it big, but there are thousands who don’t.”
“There is some truth there.” I have to admit.
“After seeing your video, that’s when I decided we needed to do average and not big.”
“I don’t understand.” I’m so not average.
“Look what your education got you. A teaching degree. You got good grades and went to college. That Alex in the video with you, just as bad a life but has dreams and got a college education.”
“We were lucky.”
“You wouldn’t have been if your grades stunk.”
“True. I wouldn’t have gotten the aid and scholarships.”
“That is my point. This year, when I give the speech, I’m using you. And Alex, if I can get him. Maybe if the kids see something that is attainable maybe then they’ll start getting it.”
“So, you just want me here for a speech, not student teaching.”
“Oh, I want you for student teaching. I’m not just going to parade you in front of them and then you disappear going on to the next big thing. They’ll see you actually working and achieving the goals in your life.”
I’m really not sure how I feel about being paraded as a success or something like that. I just want to student teach. Get my diploma and go to work at Baxter. Simple as that. But, if I have to do this to achieve my goals, I’ll be their damn poster child.
“School starts on January 9th. Be here at seven and I’ll introduce you to Mrs. Chase, our choir director.”
And, as simple as that, I’ll be student teaching. Thank God.
“You said you saw the video. The kids may have too. It’s what’s kept me from being placed.”
“I know they saw it. Some of them during class, and they talked about it.”
“I was exposed.”
“Honey, I’ve got much bigger problems at this school than worrying about whether a bunch of kids may have seen some of your boobies, like who may have snuck a gun in. I wish I only had to worry about boys seeing boobies.”
Gun? I swallow against the sudden lump in my throat. How dangerous was this school?
A massive stroke and Peggy was gone in the blink of an eye. Martha was nearly inconsolable, and I’m so out of my element on what to do. They’d been best friends since high school, and she is lost. I stayed with her at the hospital then brought her back to the shop because she wasn’t ready to go home. She’s called Peggy’s kids and then her own. Now, she’s makin
g cookies.
It’s odd, but maybe it’s not, but I’m not leaving her alone. Not until at least one family member gets here, which won’t be for hours.
“Hey,” Kelsey says as she steps into the room.
I told her what happened when she called to tell me she got the job, and she insisted on coming down and helping.
“Congratulations on the job, Kelsey. You’re going to be a good teacher.”
I’m not sure how Martha knows that since she’s only met Kelsey once. But, I do talk about her. A lot.
“I am so sorry, Martha. Is there anything I can do?”
“Sit down and have some cookies.” She sets a plate on the table then pours a glass of milk.
One of the guys cancelled all the appointments for the next couple of days. It just doesn’t seem right to be doing tats when Peggy isn’t at the front desk barking at us one second, then patting our asses the next.
“This was her baby,” Martha says as she takes a seat. “Peggy wanted the shop to keep us busy. Keep active and you don’t get old and end up in a nursing home.” She smiles fondly. “I just wanted to bake, so she gave me a kitchen.”
“The last of the customers are gone, Martha,” Billy, one of the tattoo artists says as he steps into the kitchen. “Want me to lock up?”
“Please. Are the others gone?”
“Yep, headed out awhile back.”
“Go on and have a good night.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Thanks, Billy. Now run along.”
Martha sighs and sits down at the table after he’s gone. “What am I going to do?”
“You have this place.”
“I don’t want this place. This was Peggy’s. She managed it. Did the books. Kept you guys in line.”
My gut tightens. If they close down I won’t have a place to work. I suppose I could get hired somewhere else, but I like it here. I can name my own hours, take the clients I want and send others away. I might not get that choice somewhere else.
I’m also being selfish. Martha just lost her best friend, and I’m thinking about myself.
“You know, we were together since junior year in high school. That’s went we fell in love.”
I look over at Kelsey. Did she just say they fell in love?
She chuckles. “Shock you? Peggy and I were in love and lovers and have been since high school.” Then she shakes her head. “Well, not while we were married of course. That would have been wrong.”
“But you were married and have kids,” Kelsey says, sounding as confused as I am.
“It was a different time. We were raised by God-fearing parents. We were God-fearing and were convinced we would burn in hell.”
Some people still feel that way.
“You’ve got to understand. We’re eighty years old, and back then, people weren’t gay or lesbian. They were, of course, but you didn’t talk about it and did the best you could to hide it.”
“Did your husbands know?” Kelsey asks.
Martha smiles lovingly. “We never told them, but both of them had commented at one time that we were closer than most women, even for being best friends.” She shrugs. “Maybe they suspected, maybe they didn’t.”
“Were they friends?” I ask.
“Best friends, like me and Peggy. They decided to ask us out at the same time junior year and that was that. We all went off to the same college, were best friends, stood up at each other’s wedding, watched each other’s kids.” Her eyes water, and I grab a box of tissues. “It was a different time, and Martha and I didn’t feel like we had a choice so we denied what we felt for each other.” Her eyes meet me. “We did love our husbands. They were wonderful men who took good care of us.” Martha sniffs. “Peggy lost her husband first. Mine died a year later, and the two of us moved in together. Everyone knew we were best friends, and nobody thought it odd that we would choose to live together. Then, Peggy decided she wanted a tattoo, we came in here, and she bought the place.”
“Do your kids know?” I ask.
“We eventually told them. At first it didn’t go over so well, but eventually they accepted the situation. There were too many good memories of all of us, family vacations and holidays spent together. Grandkids know too. They didn’t even blink an eye and accept it. That’s what can happen in sixty years.” She looks around the kitchen. “I’m not sure I have the heart for this place anymore.”
“You’ll figure this out,” Kelsey says. “It’s a bad time to try and make any decisions.”
“I know, but it won’t be the same without her.” With that, her eyes fill with tears and all I can do is hold Martha as she sobs on my shoulder. My heart breaks for her, but there isn’t anything I can do to make this better. Nothing can make it better. She just lost the love of her life, who she has been with for sixty years. Nothing can fill that loss.
Cold, dreary, overcast with a threat of snow. Appropriate for a funeral, I suppose. This is my first. Funeral, that is, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. The front pews are filled with Peggy and Martha’s family. I recognize a few other guys from the tattoo parlor, but nobody else. There really aren’t that many more people here. I guess when you get to be eighty, some of your friends may have already died, leaving few to attend a funeral.
Alex is next to me, holding my hand. These past few days have been hard for him. He loved Peggy and Martha, and he’s worked in their place for three years. The shop hasn’t opened back up, and he’s not sure it will. Martha can’t bring herself to unlock the front door, leaving all the guys out of work.
Apparently Caleb and Pete jumped ship a few days ago. Said they didn’t need Skin Scribes anymore and are opening their own place. Alex hasn’t even looked into working somewhere else, but if Martha doesn’t open again, he is going to need to. But, he has a growing client list, so hopefully they will follow him. And, there were a ton of people still scheduled for a tat. I hope they don’t go somewhere else. With Caleb and Pete gone, that only leaves five other guys working there. If they have a place to work.
The wake is held back at Peggy and Martha’s apartment. Even though it’s a roomy apartment by New York standards, it’s still crowded with family. Alex is doing the talking, and I just follow, muttering sorry for your loss because I have no clue what else to say. And Martha, she’s in the kitchen making cookies. There are batches and batches of them. It’s all she’s done since Peggy died. According to Alex, it’s all she knows how to do. At least, right now.
Alex hasn’t let go of my hand once, but he isn’t talking to me either but rather to the family. Sharing memories of Peggy. He is here for them. I am here for him. The past few nights he’s come up to my room just after I turned in, and crawled into bed with me. Though he’s kissed me, there is no passion there. Instead, he just wants to hold and be held. I’m not sure what to make of it. Is he worried about working or has the loss of Peggy affecting him that much? I do know he doesn’t want to be alone. He said as much.
I’m hurting for him because he’s hurting. I don’t think he even realized how much these ladies meant to him until one was gone, and I wish there was something I could do, but I am helpless and so far out of my element. He’d be here for me, and I want to be here for him. I just hope it is enough.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask when we finally stop at the side of the room and he’s no longer talking to anyone.
“Not sure,” he answers. “I’ve heard about all of these people. Peggy used to talk constantly about her family when we weren’t busy. I just wish I could have met them, you know, under different circumstances.” His eyes water. “I just didn’t realize how important she was to me. Peggy was always there when I came in for the day and when I left. I confided in her. Asked advice. Talked to her about you.”
“And Martha?”
“Martha too. Like two grandmothers I didn’t have before I started working at Skin Scribes.”
“I know Martha appreciates you being here.”
He looks aro
und the room. “It would have been nice if the other guys would have bothered to come by.”
“Some people aren’t comfortable with funerals and wakes.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Don’t be getting all judgmental, Alex,” I whisper to him.
“They should be here. She treated us all like one of her own. I just didn’t really get it until now.”
The others start moving toward the door, kissing and hugging Martha on their way out.
“We should go,” he says.
Her oldest son is standing there, holding a large suitcase. “I’ve got the ashes ready to ship, and I’ll take this to the car.”
“Thank you dear. I just need to do a few more things.”
“Plane leaves in four hours.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Plane?” I whisper to Alex as he stiffens, his eyes on the suitcase.
“She’s leaving.”
“The movers will be by to pack up everything after the first of the year. We’ll see that it’s shipped to Florida.”
“She’s leaving us.” His voice isn’t loud but I hear the panic in it.
We are next in line to say goodbye.
“Alex, can you stay back until I get rid of everyone else?”
He blinks at her. “Of course.” Then he takes me to the other side of the room and sinks down on a couch. “She’s leaving me.”
It’s hard enough to deal with Peggy dying. I’ve never lost anyone like that before. Plenty of people have come in and gone out of my life, but nobody ever died. And now, Martha is going too. It hurts almost as bad as it did when I came out of that bathroom as a kid and my mom was gone and then learning that she’d intentionally left me behind.
What the hell am I supposed to do? They are my compass. My rock. The voices in my head congratulating me or tell me I’m being an ass. The closest thing I ever had to a parent, including the woman who gave birth to me.
Still Rattled Page 20
