by RH Tucker
“Jen, prom was a blast. And the after party, that was hot.”
“Right?”
“But, like, we had our fun. I mean, school’s almost over and I just want to make sure you’re cool with our situation.”
“Our situation?”
“Jen, come on. I’ve heard some of the stuff about you. I know you’re not looking for a steady thing.”
“Excuse me?”
“No,” he says, backtracking. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Actually, it’s cool. You’re doing you. It’s what I do.”
“Hold on.” She sounds less hurt and more annoyed now. “I don’t go around randomly hooking up with people.”
“Jen?”
“I don’t! Sure, I have hooked up with a couple guys, but it’s not like I play with their emotions. Which—” Even though I’m around the corner, I can hear the loud breath she takes. Her next words come out soft. “I thought you were different.”
“Come on.” He’s not acting like a jerk, which is something at least. But she’s still hurt, and I can feel the blood pounding inside my ear drums. “We both just wanted a good time.”
“I thought you …” She doesn’t finish her sentence, and if I know anything about her, I know she wants to cry but is holding it back.
“Please don’t make this awkward.” His tone is flat, like he’s uncomfortable instead of feeling guilty that she liked him and he didn’t see it.
“Just go.”
“Come on, Jen. Don’t be like that. School’s almost over, so I figured we could stay cool. You know, maybe hook up this summer or whatever.”
I don’t know what Jen’s reaction is, but his last comment blows my top. I slam my locker shut, loud enough for them to hear it, and turn the corner to face them.
“Luc.” My name is so low, I almost think it’s my imagination. Jen’s eyes meet mine, and for the first time that I can remember there’s no hate there. Just sorrow. They’re glassed over, and I know she wants to cry but is holding it back.
“Mitchell?” Franco gives me an unsure stare.
“You okay?” I ask Jen, ignoring him. She nods.
“What are you doing here?” Franco asks.
“Get the hell outta here,” I snap at him.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
He glares at me, annoyed and unsure, then his eyes shoot over to Jen. He lets out an incredulous chuckle, rolling his eyes. “Whatever.”
He turns and walks away, leaving Jen and I standing there in silence. She looks miserable. Her eyes blink and the tears finally fall down her cheeks. Even though she’s hated me for years, there’s nothing I want to do more than reach over and hold her. The last time I did that, she’d been embarrassed in sixth grade by Becky Cooper. We walked home together after school, not saying a word. Finally, before she opened the door to her house, she looked over at me, and all the tears she’d been holding back came out in a flood. I pulled her close to me, hugging her, whispering, “It’s okay.”
I wish I could do the same thing now. Hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay.
Trying to think of something, anything I can say that would help, my hand instinctively reaches to her. “Jen—”
“Just don’t.” She takes a step back, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Jen, please, just—”
“I said don’t, Lucas,” she snaps. Her eyes are red, making the death glare she gives me look menacing. “God, I’m so embarrassed.”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
“Well, I am!” she shouts. “And you. What were you doing, spying on me or something?”
“What? No.” I raise my hands in defense.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I had to grab a book out of my locker.”
“Right.” She shakes her head, her gaze dropping down at the ground.
“Whatever,” I grunt and start walking away.
I turn back around as I leave, checking on her. She still stands there in the hall, her head hanging low, her arms hugging herself. Even though I can’t hear her or see her face, I know she’s crying again.
Chapter 4
Jen
The rest of the day I just go through the motions. I can tell Emma knows something is wrong, but I can’t bring myself to confide in her yet. I feel so … worthless. And I know if I tell her that, or anyone for that matter, they’ll tell me I’m over-reacting. But when you’re left by the people who are supposed to love you, I can’t help but feel like that. Everyone I’ve ever thought was special and would keep me, seemed to reject me. Except for my aunt, who took me in when I was four and has been more my mom than my aunt for nearly my entire life.
“Jen, please, you’re scaring me,” Emma says as I stop outside of her house, dropping her off after school.
“Emma, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” She frowns.
I take a deep breath, staring down her street instead of making eye contact. “Look, I thought he liked me. But he didn’t, no big deal.”
“Jen,” she begins, reaching over and giving my arm a comforting squeeze, “like you told me one time when I was in tears over someone … he’s an idiot.”
“Yeah, but your guy ended up being really nice,” I mutter, remembering how Emma and Carter started out. “Seriously, I’m fine.” I power through, slapping a smile on, though I’m sure she doesn’t buy it. “I gotta go.”
She stares at me for a moment longer. She knows I don’t have to go. Half of the time when I drop her off after school we hang out for a while, but she doesn’t argue with me.
Leaning over, she wraps an arm around me. “Call me later.”
I nod, not wanting to talk anymore.
I know I’m not heading home as soon as she gets out. When lunch ended I knew exactly what I was doing after school. I’m getting a tattoo. I’ve actually had the idea of a tattoo for a while, but after everything that happened with Franco, today I’ve resolved to get it. And since my aunt is the co-owner of a tattoo shop, I know where to go.
After a twenty-minute drive, I pull into a small strip mall. I pass a Starbucks and even though an iced caramel macchiato would be super comforting right now, I’m on a mission. A couple shops over is Butterfly Ink, the tattoo shop my aunt co-owns with a lady named Tina. They tattoo both men and women, but they’ve made a name for themselves locally by catering to a female base.
A girl who is apprenticing at the shop and works the phones, Sheela, smiles at me as I walk in.
“Hey, Kim.” I wave over at the tattoo artist who works under Tina and my aunt, Nancy.
“What’s up, girl?” Kim waves at me. She’s a tall lady, lean, with light mocha skin, and both arms covered in colorful sleeves. She always wears a bright colored lipstick, neon blue today, and her hair is braided back.
“Hey, Jen.” Tina nods at me, before resuming her work. She has a lady in her chair, she’s working on. A sister—or maybe a daughter—sits next to her. It’s a common sight in Butterfly Ink. Like I said, it’s the clientele they usually cater to.
“Jen,” Nancy calls out, glancing over at me from her station. “What are you doing here?”
I give her a half-hearted smile as I lift my shoulders.
Nancy is my mom’s sister and took me in when I was almost five. My parents had me while they were both sophomores in high school and I have no idea who my father is. From the little I’ve asked Nancy, and even less that she’s told me, he wanted nothing to do with my mom when she got pregnant. Then he and his family moved away, to where I have no idea.
I guess a lot of people don’t remember much from before they’re five, but there is one memory engrained in my mind I’ll never forget. The night my mother brought me over to visit ‘Auntie Nancy’. I had my favorite toy with me and heard them talking and the words I’ll never forget. She returned to me, knelt down, and gave me a hug. Then she was gone. She didn’t say a word as she hugged me, and for
some reason I remember I didn’t make a sound. I cried the entire night, but I never made a sound. Ever since then, it’s been me and my aunt.
“What happened?” She shoots a worried expression at me as I slump in the chair at her station.
“Nothing,” I lie.
She gives me a slight frown, her dusty rose-colored lips turning down. Even though she’s over forty, every year for the past five years we’ve celebrated her thirtieth birthday, and she doesn’t look either of those ages. She gets called my older sister all the time, especially since our frame is very similar. While my hair is long, hers is a pixie crop hairstyle, her bangs falling over her forehead and eyes. The color constantly changes, and recently she’s been going with green. That, combined with both ears lined with piercings, two piercings in her right eyebrow, and a small silver ring pierced on the left side of her bottom lip, she looks anything but unassuming. She’s a force to be reckoned with, which is something I’ve always loved about her. The half sleeve tattoos on both arms only adds to the effect.
“Jen, you only hang out here on the weekends. And you look like you just lost the lead part for an audition.”
I loved being in drama in high school. Acting like I was someone else. Whether it was a drama or a comedy, I loved to pretend that I wasn’t myself. That the character I was playing had a normal life, with people around them that would always care for them. The more time went on, it was a dream I reveled to live in, even though I knew I probably wouldn’t have that in real life. Today’s experience with Franco proved that again.
I shake my head, trying to get rid of the thoughts of Franco, and stare at my aunt. “I’m ready for my first tattoo.”
“What?” She stares at me, shocked.
“Yasss!” Kim calls out, and I look over to see her smiling.
“No,” Nancy contests.
“What?”
“No. You’re doing this because something happened, I can tell from your face.”
“No,” I counter. “I’m doing this because I want to.”
“You don’t get tattoos when you’re emotional. It ends up being a regret.”
I cross my arms, staring at her, but I know she won’t budge. She’s never had children of her own, but you wouldn’t know it by how she raised me. When she puts her foot down, she’s serious.
“Fine.” I jump up out of her chair and walk over to Kim. “Kim, I want my first tattoo.”
Kim’s jaw clenches as she bares her teeth nervously, her bright blue lips curling. Her eyes shoot over to my aunt for permission.
“Hey, no.” I wave my hand. “I’m eighteen. I can decide if I want a tattoo or not.”
“Right,” she drawls out the word, giving me a cautious look. “Except, I work here under Tina and your aunt. So …”
“Fine, then.” I let out an annoyed huff, jumping to my feet, and start toward the door. “If you guys won’t do it, I’ll go somewhere else.”
“Jen,” Nancy calls back in a tone I’ve heard before. A tone that says, ‘don’t test me’.
Tina is chuckling under her breath, while the lady she’s tattooing is watching curiously. Even Sheela is paying attention.
“Get over here.” Nancy waves her arm for me to join her.
I try to keep my head held high, but I know she’s taking pity on me. She starts lining up some supplies on a tray and I sit back in her chair.
“I’m not giving you a tattoo.”
“But—”
She holds up a finger stopping me. “Until, you tell me what this is all about.”
The courage I walked into the shop with is starting to fade and I stare down at the ground.
“It’s not about any one thing.”
“Jennifer.”
“I’m serious.” I look at her, my eyes pleading. “I’ve actually been thinking about the idea for a while, but today … today was a shitty day.”
I say the words before thinking about it and my eyes meet hers. Nancy’s never been a huge stickler about me cussing, at least not in the last couple years as I’ve gotten older, but I still try not to do it in front of her.
“What happened?”
Staring back at the ground, I debate what to say and how much to tell her. She knows I’ve gone out on dates, but I’ve never actually told her I slept with someone before and I’m not really comfortable bringing that up now. If I did, she definitely wouldn’t give me the tattoo, blaming this on my emotions. Yes, I’m emotional, but today proved one thing; I need to guard my heart. And the idea for my tattoo is a perfect symbol of that.
“People just suck, Nancy.” I stare at the floor. Ever since I was little, I’ve always called her by her first name, not using the word ‘aunt’.
“Yeah, some people do,” she agrees.
“How have you done it?”
“Done what?”
“Been okay with people leaving?”
“Jen, people make their own choices. We can’t force others to feel a certain way, even if they should. I know we haven’t talk about her in a while, but I’m sure your mom loves you.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“Don’t say that.”
“If she loved me she wouldn’t have left.”
“Jen—”
“This isn’t about that,” I cut her off. She raises an eyebrow, not believing me. “I’m serious. Okay, it’s part of it, but not really. It’s about people in general.”
Now both eyebrows go up, as she quirks her head to the side. “Oh, you mean boys?”
Biting my bottom lip, I nod. “And this isn’t even about a certain boy, even though, a certain boy really did piss me off today.” I keep the edge on my tone because it’s better to sound pissed off and mad than devastated and heartbroken. Again.
I wait for a minute, but she doesn’t respond.
My aunt has had a number of relationships with guys that never went anywhere. The first one I remember being serious was with Teddy, when I was ten years old. He was really nice. I think they went out for a couple months, and he even bought me a few gifts. But then, one day I came home after school and found them arguing. I’d never seen that before. Nancy cursed at him, he stormed out of the house, and I never saw him again.
A couple years later, when I was twelve, Jagger came along. Awesome name, right? And he was in a band. Yeah, my middle school heart was totally swooning over my aunt’s boyfriend. That is until, she told me they broke up one weekend. They’d been dating for nearly three months and everything seemed like it was going great. I never heard them argue, or even raise their voices at one another. But when Nancy told me it was over, she was in tears. It wasn’t until a few months after their break-up that she told me she caught him cheating on her. I was shocked, because even though I saw the bad-boy image, he was always so nice. But, it proved to me again that people only think about themselves.
The last guy that my aunt was serious about, she started dating my sophomore year. By then I’d rolled my eyes at her boyfriends and I knew that almost everyone, with the exception of Emma, was going to let me down. And they did. Henry did seem different at the time, but I tried my best to not get close to him. I clearly remember Nancy being ecstatic. It was her longest relationship I could remember, nearly lasting a year. He even proposed. Sounds great, right?
I went on spring break vacation with Emma and when I came home, Nancy told me they broke up. She seemed sad about it, but she wasn’t in tears, which I didn’t understand. She’d cried much more for guys worth a lot less. She was quiet about why they broke up and I knew I shouldn’t press her, but it didn’t make any sense. He’d already proposed a month before I went on vacation and everything seemed great. We got in an argument, because even though my aunt was the only person I really trusted for my entire life, Henry seemed like someone she could trust in. I wanted her to be happy. After nagging her over and over, she finally snapped and yelled at me.
“He wants to send you away to boarding school!” she yelled at me, tears welling in her eyes.
“He said he didn’t want our first year as a married couple weighed down by you.”
I was speechless. After everyone who’d hurt me, I never thought I’d feel any more worthless than I did when she said that. He didn’t want me around. He’d always been nice to me. Took us out to dinner, to the movies, doing everything that seemed like he enjoyed having me around.
“I told him no.”
“You did?”
My aunt is everything. She took me in when she didn’t have to. When my mother left me and wanted to do whatever it is she wanted to do, she was the only one I could trust throughout my entire life. It shouldn’t have surprised me that she said no, but it did.
“Of course.” She stepped to me, putting both her hands on my cheeks. “Jennifer, you’re my world. I might not be your mom, but you’re my daughter.”
The flood gates were unleashed, and I hugged her tight, both of us weeping. That day cemented two ideas for me. My aunt was always going to be there for me. No matter what. Secondly, people were going to disappoint me. It’d happened my entire life and it should be no surprise when it happens again. I should see it coming. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way this year, I’d forgotten that and Franco happened. Now I had to live with that.
Nancy speaks up, breaking through my memory. “What’d you have in mind?”
“Really?” My eyes widen.
“Yes. It’s going to be small, so your idea better not be detailed.”
“It’s not.” I pull out my phone and bring up a picture of a small sketch Emma worked up for me a while back when I told her the idea.
“Oh, I like this.” She smiles at my phone.
It’s a padlock in the shape of a heart, and in the center of the heart, a keyhole. It symbolizes everything I felt over the years. My heart is fragile and every time someone I think should be the one to hold it, they throw it away. So, I’ll put a lock on it. Hey, I never said I wasn’t dramatic.
“Where do you want it?”
I’ve thought about that, too. At first, I thought maybe on my ankle, but I’ve heard from Nancy that that spot can be painful. Another choice was my hip. But then I saw a few girls who had a nice little tattoo on their wrist and I think that’s the perfect spot for it.
