Human Hieroglyphix - Dex & Leila

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  Listen to me, I thought after hanging up. I'm thirty-one years old and still worried that my mother won't give me her permission to not go to Ohio for Easter. Actually, that's another thing to add to my Chrysalis List I thought moving to my laptop and opening my Excel spreadsheet.

  I noticed that the 'Inside Me' page was almost as full as the 'Outer Me' page.

  Although, talking with Mom was a cake walk compared to telling Emily of my plans for Spring Break over scorching hot plates of Enrique's Mexican Food. I had given in to her choice of restaurants in the hopes that she would be less likely to pitch a fit about my change in plans.

  "Calling Bullshit," she said around a mouthful of her chicken enchilada.

  Told you.

  Emily has a gift when it comes to sniffing out other people's lies.

  "Not bullshit," I affirmed around my own mouthful of tostada salad, beef, not chicken. "I have a lot of work I need to get done and the week off gives me plenty of time to do it."

  Hope it hasn't escaped your notice that I used the same excuse with Em as I did with my mom.

  I snagged the straw of my margarita and took a healthy slurp before pushing my glasses back up on my nose.

  I was still sticking to my changes in diet as evidenced by a beef tostada and a margarita instead of the chicken and white wine, choices that hadn't escaped Em's notice but that she didn't comment on this time.

  "So what exactly are you going to be doing, or should I ask who are you going to be doing on your week off?" Emily kept her eyes on her food as she asked.

  "Now I'm calling Bullshit. You know I'm not seeing anyone," I had laid my fork down as I said this. I hated to admit that I hadn't been asked out since I'd moved to Grantham and it was something that she and I never discussed.

  Like, ever.

  "What about Evan?" she countered, still not looking at me as we spoke.

  I wiped my mouth as I thought.

  Evan Griffin was a Math Professor at the University. He was tall and lanky. Lanky dandruff speckled hair that fell down onto his smudge glasses, lanky clothes that covered his lanky frame. Just lanky all the way around.

  And for some reason only known to Evan, he had a 'thing' for me.

  "I'm not, nor have I ever been interested in Evan," I stated firmly picking my fork up again.

  "Really?"

  "Really and without a doubt."

  "That's not what he says," she said lowering her voice.

  "Then you should've called Bullshit on him, all right?" This conversational topic was starting to piss me off. And since I was pissed off, I decided to tell Emily the truth.

  "Ah, actually, Emily…" I began, trying to find the right words. "I am going to be making some changes over Easter break."

  "What kind of changes?"

  "Uhm, changes to, ah, my wardrobe and stuff," I hedged.

  She stopped eating and raised her eyes to mine."What brought this on?"

  "Not one thing in particular, per se," I began.

  "Calling Bullshit, again. C'mon, Lei, spill it." she dropped her fork to her plate and sat back in the booth.

  So I told her.

  Then I took out my notebook and showed her.

  I told her about the money and how I wasn't sure it would be enough to get all the changes done that I wanted to make.

  When my voice finally ran down, I chanced a glance at her. She was pulling at her bottom lip and had scowl on her face.

  "So you're caving, aren't you?" Em said in a soft voice.

  I didn't understand what she meant and waited for her to go one.

  "You're going to cave to peer pressure, although I'm hoping to God that those stupid little boys that you teach, for God's sake, are not your peers."

  I shook my head, "They're not."

  "Good. But, you still want to turn yourself into some kind of Barbie doll over Easter break? The timing is just a little bit suspicious, though, don't you think?"

  "Don't you ever think about changing, Emily?" I asked on a quiet voice.

  "Nope. I like myself. Which you obviously don't if you are willing to go through with this cockamamie plan."

  "I don't think it's cockamamie, Em."

  "Right. Hey, did I tell you what the Dragon said to me yesterday?" Emily said in her normal voice.

  And the conversation was turned. Thank Christ.

  Emily and I were just leaving the restaurant, when I glanced towards the bar, when I saw him.

  There he was.

  That guy.

  You know the one, the guy with the great body that I had seen at Henry's?

  The one that, if I thought of him too much while in bed, had me reaching for my little plastic, battery driven device secretly stashed in the back of my nightstand drawer.

  My body went into lockdown as he slowly lifted his head and glanced my way.

  I was totally right.

  He was beautiful.

  Not a pretty boy kind of beautiful, but a manly beauty made up of strong cheekbones and squared off jaw covered with just enough facial hair to be interesting. Eyes well spaced and shadowed by thick lashes and a full, well defined mouth that was currently grinning at something the bartender said.

  God, he was gorgeous.

  I know I must have looked ridiculous standing there with my mouth open but I couldn't move. Hell, I couldn't even breathe.

  "C'mon, Lei," I heard Emily call before I felt her hand on my arm as she pulled me toward the door. "Time to find our cars and go home, not drool at bar patrons."

  I shuffled and soon began walking normally to the parking lot.

  Just for the record?

  I wasn't drooling.

  Well, not much anyway.

  Chapter Six

  "Hi, Human Hiero. This is Crystal. How can I help today?" A cheery voice answered the phone at the tattoo shop that I'd been hearing so much about.

  I'd done a lot of research on this subject, number one because it was kind of invasive compared to the other things on my list and, second, because it was number one on my list of things to do.

  I chose something to really get the gears moving on my transformation; that would symbolize what I was trying to do with my life. And a tattoo was far and away the most drastic and yet something that would remind me minute by minute, day to day, of what I was doing and why.

  I'd done my research too.

  There were a lot of tattoo shops in my neck of the woods but our local shop, Human Hieroglyphix, was the most highly rated Tattoo emporium, studio, shop in the Southwestern U. S. since it opened in 2006.

  "Uhm, Hi. My name is Leila and I was interested in getting a tattoo?" I choked out. How could I be nervous with just calling? Geez.

  "So are you asking for an appointment or for my permission? Or maybe you're just one of those girls that, like, have a way of making every sentence into, like, a question?" I heard her say with a laugh.

  "An appointment. I'm looking for an appointment," I said firmly, bravely.

  "So, Leila? Man, your parents must've been completely ape-shit over Clapton," she said cracking her gum in my ear.

  "I believe it was more of a ancestral name than a statement of popular culture," I said.

  Oh shit.

  I had gone into 'brainiac mode' at her gentle teasing.

  And I knew it was a defense mechanism from all the times I took top honors in anything scholastic whether it was elementary, middle or high school. Every time my name was announced, I'd inevitably hear the groans or snide remarks of, "Of course, it's Leila." And it was always and without fail uttered by one of the pretty, popular girls.

  As a way to defend myself from the hurt their comments made of my achievements, I would speak slower and with longer syllables or more formally.

  Like now.

  Shit.

  "I'm looking to get an appointment for a tattoo, please," I said into the silence of the phone though I know we hadn't been disconnected since I could hear some kind of popular music playing in the background.

/>   "Well, I've got a two o'clock open on Monday," she said, her voice subdued.

  Honest to God, I could just kick myself sometimes.

  "I was hoping for something sooner if you've got it."

  "Let me check." and she put me on hold.

  I hated hold.

  But, in light of my snippy, smart ass answer to her innocent question about my name, I wasn't surprised.

  She came back to the phone earlier than I would've thought.

  "Okay, Miss Leila, Dex says he can see you tomorrow, Saturday, at four. That work for you?"

  "Perfect! Thanks." And I really was thankful. As a phone customer she could've scheduled me two months from now. I was kind of familiar with all sorts of ways people use to avoid being with someone who trounces on their friendliness.

  "Okay, so I've got you written in the book. It's really important that you keep your appointment or call and let us know at least six hours in advance if you ain't gonna show. You gonna pick from the books or do you already have a design or flash?"

  "Sorry? I don't know what a flash is."

  "A flash is what we use to put on your skin to follow the design," she replied and I could hear the sound of a cash register in the background.

  "I have my own design, thanks." And I did. I had found a beautiful picture of what I wanted in one of my nature books.

  "Okay so just bring it with you tomorrow along with a photo ID and enough cake to pay, and you're good to go," she said. I could hear the smile in her voice. Maybe all was forgiven since I had to ask questions, that I wasn't a such know-it-all.

  "Ah, I'm not sure I know what cake is," I said with a stammer.

  "Cake, money, moola, duggets," she explained and I could tell she was trying to hold in her laughter. "The amount it's gonna cost you depends on the size and placement. Got it?"

  "Got it," I said.

  "Name's Crystal," she said.

  "O-oh. Okay, Crystal. See you tomorrow," I said before disconnecting the call. I wiped my hands on my thighs.

  Who knew making an appointment for your first tattoo could be so nerve wracking?

  *.*.*.*.*

  Saturday morning found me at the local department store looking for work out clothes.

  I had joined the local ladies gym and was scheduled for my beginner's yoga class in an hour. Not having a clue what I should wear, I approached the sales clerk who directed me to an aisle of spandex. Holy crap! There were long pants, cropped pants, t-shirts, tanks and what looked like bathing suit tops.

  "Ah, Sharon, is it?" I approached a petite, pudgy woman with curiously orange-tinted hair that was one of the clerks in the department. "I'm taking my first yoga class today and don't know what I should wear."

  I felt the heat in my cheeks but powered on anyway. "What would you suggest?"

  Sharon looked me up and down then chuckled shaking her head. "Sweetie, do I look like I do yoga? I just sell the stuff, not wear it. But let's see if we can get you what you'll need. What size are you?"

  I watched as she started pulling things down off the rack.

  "Uhm. Truthfully? I don't know," I answered.

  She did another up and down eye move then twirled her finger to ask me to turn around which I did. Then she went back to the rack and pulled even more things down. Not one much for words, Sharon curled her index finger and I followed her to the dressing room where she hung the clothes on the hook provided.

  "Here you go. Now remember to keep your panties on even though you won't be wearing them for your class. Whistle if you need me," she advised as she closed the dressing room door.

  Excuse me? I was supposed to go (gulp) commando to an exercise class?

  But I could see what she meant when I began to try on the spandex items. Each piece seemed to have its own underwear built right in whether it was a shelf bra or a cotton faced crotch on a pair of pants.

  And by checking out the colorful tags, I could see how the clothes were worn, like turning over the large waistband so that the pants rode lower on your hips.

  I chose a pair of full length, boot cut pants in brown with that fold over waist band and a racer backed tank also in brown but that had different sized circles printed on it in turquoise. On a whim and because I liked them so much, I chose another set done completely in black.

  "You're gonna want to run downstairs and pickup a yoga mat and a couple of yoga bricks, too, if you have time," Sharon advised while she was ringing me up. "I may not yoga, but I know what you need."

  So it was that I made my way into the gym with plenty of time to change and get to class. I wanted a back row position if possible, so I wouldn't embarrass myself. Guess I wasn't the only one with that idea as every bit of floor space furthest from the stage was taken. I moved forward and even the second best row was filled.

  Sighing in resignation, I took my position in the front row, standing next to a beautiful girl that was just about my height.

  She moved a bit and offered me a smile with a chin lift.

  Interesting.

  I've never done a chin lift as 'hello' before but I smiled and performed it back with ease.

  "So do we, ah…" I asked, though I was uncertain what it was I was really asking.

  "Don't know," the beauty beside responded. "It's kind of my first time."

  "Me, too," I admitted. I sat down my water jug, mat in its holder and the two bricks that I purchased just minutes earlier. I had cut all the tags off in the dressing room, stealthily using my cuticle scissors.

  I offered the beauty my hand and copied Crystal-the-phone-answerer's method of introduction.

  "Name's Leila."

  "Caitlin," she said back shaking my hand. "I wasn't certain what to buy so I…"

  I laughed. "I'm as new to this as you are. This is just the stuff the guy in the sporting goods section at Meer's recommended I get for the class. Who knows if I'll need any of it."

  We watched as this tiny, little lithe woman of Asian descent climbed up onto the stage and put on a head-set.

  I turned my head and caught Caitlin's eyes. "Here we go, then."

  "Good luck," I heard her whisper.

  "Back at you," I whispered back.

  *.*.*.*.*

  "Yay! We survived!" I heard Caitlin say when I met her at the doors on our way out of the locker room.

  "Barely, " I admitted with a small laugh. "Was it me or were some of those positions …whoops, I mean poses, really anatomically impossible?"

  "Totally with ya, sistah," she said with a smile and lifting her hand to me palm out. I glanced at it not sure what I was supposed to do. "Don't leave a girl hanging."

  Oh! She wanted to high-five me.

  Terrific!

  I slapped my palm against hers.

  "Can I ask you something?" she asked as we made our way through the lobby. "Are you Prof McCarthy?"

  "Guilty," I murmured.

  "I took one of your classes last year," she said softly.

  "And, yet, you didn't have one this year," I replied smiling .

  "No, I've discovered I have a real head for numbers and decided to go that direction instead," she laughed. "I did pretty good in your class and I enjoyed it."

  "I'll bet," I laughed as I pushed one of the heavy glass doors open to the street. "I know I'm called 'Murderous McCarthy' by a lot of the students because I'm a bit of a stickler."

  "And that's the nicest that you're known by," Caitlin giggled pushing against me with her shoulder.

  "Want to do Buxby's?" I asked not wanting our bantering to end.

  While doing my research, I'd spoken to so many women, had found a connection with such a variety of other gals that I was finally ready to ask for and find friendships with them.

  "Excellent idea," she said and we moved off, walking the block or so to the popular coffee hang out.

  I don't care where you are in the States but if you are within yelling distance of a college or university, you're going to find a coffee place that will not only have the best cup
of Joe in town but also have comfortable seating in a cheerful atmosphere.

  We settled ourselves into a couple of armchairs that were tilted towards each other.

  "Mmm, so good," Caitlin said wiping the foam from her lip.

  "So why yoga?" I asked.

  "Long story, short? Fiancé owns a gym on the south of town but it's one of those full-on kind of places. Punching bags, speed bags and a full boxing ring, you know what I mean? I asked about classes there and Jake said that there was, and I quote, 'no fuckin' way you and your cake faced friends, are gonna be struttin' around the gym with your tits and asses jigglin' in those painted on clothes. No way, no how.' End quote."

  "Did he beat his chest when he said it?" I asked trying to keep my voice light but hiding my expression by lifting my coffee and taking a sip.

  "Almost, but it is such a fine chest to be beating on," Caitlin said with a warm smile. "Jake has rather, uhm, definite opinions."

  "I'm getting' that," I said, smiling, too and glad she hadn't taken offense at my comment.

  "What about you? Why yoga and why now?" She asked pulling her feet up in the chair and wiggling herself so that her back was against the arm of the chair and she was facing me.

  Since she hadn't taken offense with my remark and I was feeling she was genuinely interested, I told her.

  I told her about what I had overhead those two students saying and my reaction to them.

  I told her how my life was really predictable and safe and how very much I hated it.

  Lastly, I told her about the girl and the guy from Henry's and how I envied them and wanted it for myself.

  "Wow," she said blinking deeply a couple of times. "That's kind of…"

  "Stupid?" I finished for her.

  "No, not at all. That's more than kind of awesome."

  "Awesome?"

  "Sure. How many people do you think get that kind of wakeup call? I mean, how many, even if they do get the call, actually answer the phone?"

  "Wow," I whispered, echoing her earlier word.

  "You bet your ass, wow," she said on a giggle and reached into her back pocket for her phone. "So what have you got going for tomorrow?"

  And so it was that we exchanged phone numbers and made plans to meet up tomorrow along with her friend Marianne to go shopping.