by Mariah Dietz
“Ace, seriously.” He persists.
“Seriously, Kyle, nothing has ever happened,” I insist, raising my eyebrows as I stare back into his eyes to emphasize I’m telling him the truth.
He still doesn’t look convinced. Kyle knows better than most about how to hide abuse, and I know this is hitting home with him since his dad had been a perpetual drunk that spent half of his time drinking and the other half abusing Kyle, both mentally and physically.
I shake my head in defeat. “I was stupid. I planned to meet him at a restaurant to break up because I didn’t know how things would go, and when I got there he drove us to a different restaurant because he’d made plans with these horrible social climbing jerks that all drank way too much and were being obnoxious and rude. So I left. I figured that even though I think breakups should be face to face, I’d give in this time and do it the middle school way and call him.
“But when I left he followed me, and I ended it a bit more publicly than I would’ve liked.”
“That doesn’t explain the bruise,” Kyle says, shaking his head and discounting pretty much everything I just told him.
“He was being an ass and I was done, with all of it. I didn’t want to argue with him so when he started following me, I walked away. He told me I was being dramatic, so I acted a little dramatic and threw his keys in the dumpster and walked away. He was pissed, and rightfully so. I really shouldn’t have—”
“You’re making excuses for him?” Kyle cries. “Unfuckingbelievable!”
“He didn’t hit me Kyle. He was trying to make me listen and I didn’t want to. I know I’ve needed to break up with him since …” I lift a hand and trail it backwards, shaking my head. They all know I’ve needed to do it for some time. “He was pissed off and he grabbed my arm. I didn’t stick around. I hailed a cab and came home. I didn’t even stop to get my car.”
I keep my eyes focused on Kyle as he intently stares at me. “Honestly, Kyle, he’s never hit me. I would have …” My words drift off as he nods and releases a deep sigh, working to calm himself down.
“If he comes over here again—”
“I’m breaking his fucking jaw,” Max interrupts.
My eyes turn to him as I hear the anger drip from his voice and see his right hand balled into a fist so tight his knuckles are white and pronounced against the stretch of his skin.
“And you won’t interfere,” Kyle instructs, looking at me with the same intensity.
I hesitate for a moment, trying to process this. I am in no way going to allow Max to hit Eric. After watching him at Dante’s, I’m still a little freaked out about what he’s capable of. However, knowing Eric and his pride, I doubt I’ll ever see him again. “Deal, as long as this stays here. At the kitchen table.”
Now it’s Kyle who hesitates. He looks at me for a long moment and I sense his unease as his gaze drifts over to Max and then to Kendall whose eyes are narrowed on me in thought.
“Deal,” she agrees. Kyle looks agitated with Kendall’s response but doesn’t argue as he turns his attention to the ceiling.
“What are you doing here anyways?” I ask him, feeling slightly relieved and anxious to turn the conversation.
“Mindi forgot her book thing last Sunday. I was supposed to get it yesterday but I forgot. I’m not making that mistake again.” His eyes grow with feigned fear.
I smile, happy to hear him crack a joke. “I think I saw it in the den. I’ll go grab it.”
As I return, e-reader in hand, I can tell they’re discussing me when I hear the swarm of hushed tones. I clear my throat and look to Kendall expectantly.
“We’re still at the kitchen table,” Kyle retorts, his tone set back to serious again.
“It’s not a big deal.” I pass him the e-reader.
“I told them you’d be pissed if they went looking for him,” Kendall says, tipping me off.
My eyes snap to Max and then to Kyle, both diligently working to avoid eye contact with me. “I’d be more than pissed! You guys aren’t going anywhere. This isn’t Braveheart. I don’t need anyone defending my honor.”
“Told you,” Kendall adds.
“Ace—” Max’s eyes look distant and tortured.
“Max, please. It’s over. Let’s let bygones be bygones.”
“He doesn’t deserve that!” His voice comes out strained, like he’s working to not yell the words at me. His fist slams against the table, expressing the anger he’s trying to disguise in his voice, making the salt and pepper shakers clink from the vibration it elicits.
He hastily pushes his chair back and strides out the front door at what seems like the speed of Superman.
“Shit,” Jameson mutters, pushing his chair back to follow. I don’t wait before I chase after him as well.
“Max!” I plead, sprinting the last few steps to catch up to him as he approaches his Jeep. I make one final dash to push in front of him and press my back against the driver’s side door.
“Max, stop.” I place a hand on his chest and can practically hear the deliberation occurring in his mind as he decides whether to ignore me or not. “Please,” I say softly, searching his eyes for some sort of resolve or understanding.
He lets out a loud sigh and laces his fingers behind his neck. His face tilts toward the sky for a long moment before dropping back to mine.
“I appreciate that you want to defend me, and I even understand and can agree with it to a certain extent, but I don’t want this to be an ongoing, messy ordeal. I want it to be over. I don’t want to see him again, I don’t want to talk to him again, and I don’t want to get revenge. I just want to be done. Can you please respect that and stay? Please, for me?”
Max lets out another loud sigh. His jaw clenches and he shakes his head subtly a few times before closing his eyes and looking to the ground. “He deserves to have the shit beaten out of him.”
“Let’s leave it to karma.”
“I’d feel much better taking care of it myself.”
The left side of my mouth pulls up in a smirk. “I know.” I wrap my arms around his body and feel his muscles relax just the tiniest bit as I pull myself to his chest.
“If he comes back here though—”
“I won’t interfere,” I agree again.
Max’s grip flexes before it loosens and we turn back to my house with our arms still securely wrapped around each other’s waists. The others stand in the driveway watching us.
“If he comes, call me. I want to help beat the shit out of him,” Kyle says before kissing Kendall on the cheek and heading over to do the same to Abby. “I have to get back before Mindi starts burning my clothes in the driveway.”
“No more douchebags,” he adds, hooking his elbow around the side of my neck and pulling me to him in a rough hug that breaks my arm from Max’s. “I love you too.” He plants a kiss on the top of my head before releasing me and walking to his truck.
“Love you too,” I call, following the others back inside.
The end of summer approaches rapidly. Max and I hold on to the final threads and spend the next week nearly inseparable. We attend a going away party for Jess, who is ecstatic to learn we’re hanging out so much. It goes far better than the other two parties we’d attended together.
“What are you thinking so hard about over there?” I brush my hands together and lift the piece of driftwood I’d carried over and begin tracing lines that barely leave a trace in the dry sand we’re sitting in.
I glance back to Max whose eyes have gone from slightly squinted, his head tilted to the side, to being rounder and brighter.
“Get out of my head Bosse.”
A quiet laugh gets lost in a gust of wind as his attention moves to where Jameson is hauling Kendall into the surf. “I can’t fully read your mind yet.” Max’s eyes return to mine, bright with curiosity. “I’m learning, but you have the upper hand on me with this one. I’m just starting to recognize when you’re being sarcastic.” I’m definitely underplaying this, ov
er the summer I’ve learned a lot about Max, but recently I’ve learned even more as we’ve uncovered facts and tidbits about one another. Some as simple as favorite colors to more complex things, like dreams and aspirations. There’s a certain level of comfort we share now. Quiet pauses don’t seem awkward with the need to force conversation. He doesn’t bat an eye when I wear one of my old camp T-shirts, and he quickly learns that ice cream really does make almost everything better.
“You know me better than most people.” His hands drop to the sand behind him and he moves closer to me, so our thighs brush and then wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me toward him so my head leans against the front of his chest. “It scares the hell out of me, but I’m starting to like it more than I fear it.”
When Max and Jameson leave for a fishing trip that they’ve had planned, I want to feel excited for them. I know they’ve been looking forward to it, but the selfish part of me wants him to stay.
Thankfully their first day gone is a Sister Sunday and we pile into Mindi’s minivan. I try to listen to the multiple conversations surrounding me, hearing names and giggles floating through the air, but I can’t fight the distraction of Max as I wonder what he’s doing.
“Ace, where are you?” I glance around and notice Jenny and Savannah both stare at me from the bench in front of me.
“On the ocean with Max,” Kendall teases quietly with a grin. “She’s got it bad.”
There’s a chorus of oohs from my sisters that makes my face blush as they assault me with questions and comments, and even a few suggestions about Max’s hotness and the Miller boys in general.
I glance out the window in confusion when the van pulls to a stop. Usually we go to the same Mexican restaurant every Sister Sunday before we head to a movie, or a pedicure, or some other girly activity, but we’re sitting outside of a building covered in spray paint that I honestly can’t recall ever having seen before.
“Where are we?” I ask, looking over to Savannah. She has a coy smile spread across her lips that tells me I don’t want to hear the answer.
I look to each of them, waiting for some sort of explanation, as I follow them up to the building, looking anxious and excited for whatever it is we’re about to do.
I watch as Mindi approaches the storefront. She’s more of a germaphobe than I am, so I’m expecting her to cringe and turn around and yell “joke,” or something that makes more sense than what she does, which is swings the dark-tinted door open and strolls inside, like this is somewhere she goes on a usual basis.
Kendall looks over her shoulder, eyeing me with a grin before following Mindi inside. My eyebrows knit together as my gaze roams around the exterior of the rundown building, searching for a store sign or some sort of clue as to our whereabouts.
“Come on,” Savannah says, gently shoving me in the direction of the door Jenny holds open with a guilty smile.
“Why do you guys all know what’s going on and I don’t?” I ask, walking through the door as I shoot Jenny a scowl. She’s the most likely to fold.
As soon as I cross the threshold, I don’t need a hint or explanation of our current whereabouts. It’s evident by the randomly placed, mismatched pictures in every shape and size that cover the walls. The décor and occupied chair in the corner tell me exactly where we are: a tattoo parlor.
“I’ll watch, but you guys know how I feel,” I say, shaking my head.
“We’re getting it together.” Savannah states.
“We?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “You guys decided for me what I’m going to get tattooed on my body?”
Jenny looks at me shyly, but Kendall grabs my wrist and faces me, her light blue eyes boring into mine. “You need to get over it, because it’s happening. You can choose where if you want.”
“Hey, wow, you weren’t kidding.” I look up to see a skinny man heavily covered in tattoos approaching us. My eyes skitter across his body, taking in the crazy amount of ink he sports and the several piercings that cover his ears, before looking to his face and watching him smile appreciatively at Mindi.
“Are you even supposed to get a tattoo while you’re pregnant?” I interrupt.
“Savannah and I will get ours once the babies are born,” Mindi explains without looking to me. “Ace, this is Scout. Ironic, I know. Scout this is Ace, Jenny, Savannah, and Kendall.” He nods to each of us with a grin that says he’s happy to see that we’re his next customers.
Scout leads us to a chair and eyes us. “So who’s going first?” he asks, griping the back of the chair.
“I am.” Jenny says, perching on the chair. He grabs some papers and a pattern from the counter beside him, and I realize that they’ve been planning this. They’re serious.
It’s not that I’m opposed to tattoos, in fact when I had turned eighteen, I’d marched into a tattoo parlor with Kendall to get one on the top of my foot. The artist had informed me how our hands and feet shed the most skin cells, and explained it would stretch and quickly fade, requiring constant upkeep and would eventually become much larger than the original tattoo. I didn’t really have a plan in mind to have a tattoo elsewhere, so I left and haven’t had the desire to go back since.
When Scout asks her where she wants to get hers done, Jenny extends her wrist. We all watch as he first scrubs it clean with alcohol and then transfers the design.
I crane my neck around Savannah to see what it is. “Are you kidding me?” I cry, “No way.” I shake my head, turning to leave.
“You said you wanted something symbolic, something that represents meaning,” Mindi objects.
“An infinity heart isn’t meaningful! I’m going to have a matching tattoo with the four of you, as well as four million strangers that couldn’t think of anything more creative themselves.”
Mindi looks sort of pissed. These days it’s tough to know how hard I can push her, but I don’t care, I don’t want this. “It’s so cliché! Come on.” I groan.
Apparently I pushed too hard, because the next thing I know Mindi starts crying. I apologize, feeling guilty, and somewhere in there agree to get this cliché symbol tattooed onto my body. Now I’m lying on my side with my arm stretched out over my head, wearing only my jeans and bra, which isn’t even fastened at the moment, as a needle repeatedly punctures the intensely sensitive skin covering my ribs while my free hand holds my bra cups securely in place.
“Is your name really Scout?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the stinging sensation.
“No. Is your name really Ace?”
I shake my head slightly before he glares at me, reminding me that I’m supposed to be lying perfectly still.
“Is that why she said ironic?” he asks.
“Ironic?”
“Your sister, when she introduced us, she said, ‘ironically this is Scout.’”
“Oh, no. I think it’s because my real name’s Harper.”
“Would it totally freak you out if I told you my name’s Lee?”
“You’re lying,” I deadpan. I watch a smirk spread across his face. I know he’s checked me out a couple of times, but I appreciate that he knows who Harper Lee is and give him a small allowance for it.
“You never know, it might be,” he says, not tearing his eyes from my side as he continues tracing the pattern. “How are you doing? You need a breather?”
This time I refrain from shaking my head as I vocalize a no.
“So this is your first ink?”
I confirm with a quiet yes.
“You chose a hell of a spot for your first tat, nothing like diving in the deep end.”
“It’s not so bad,” I lie, working to distract my mind so I don’t contort my face as he hits a particularly painful spot. Honestly it hurts like hell.
Before leaving, Scout asks that we pose for a picture. I hold my shirt and bra up, revealing my tattoo, beside Kendall, who has her back facing out, revealing the tattoo on the back of her right hip. Jenny has her arm extended, showing the small delicate work on the ins
ide of her wrist. I have to hand it to Scout, for being a cliché symbol that I wasn’t looking forward to, he’s done an amazing job. They look feminine and delicate with skilled outlining and enough shading to make them artistic and beautiful. I still feel like it’s cliché, but I kind of love it.
“See ya, Harper!” Scout calls as we make our way outside.
“Later, Lee,” I say with a grin.
“No way! His name’s Lee?” Mindi cries out in shock. I just grin as I make my way back out to the minivan.
“Do you think I should cut my hair?” Kendall stands in front of the department store mirror folding her hair. She briefly studies herself before finding me looking back at her in the reflection. Max and Jameson are due home either late tonight or tomorrow, they weren’t positive on timing, but we’re both feeling anxious. The last few days have been fun, but the constant thought of Max, and what he was doing, and how things would be when he returned have created a constant distraction.
“I like your hair the way it is, but if you want to cut it I know that will be cute too,” I say with a casual shrug.
“You’re a lot of help.” She groans, letting out a loud sigh as she releases her hair. “Let’s go eat. I’m hungry.”
Once seated and eating pizza, Kendall begins dissecting her relationship with Jameson. They’re still dating, but apparently the term exclusive hasn’t been declared, which makes Kendall uncertain of the validity of their relationship.
“Why don’t you talk to him about it? It’s not as though you’re not able to establish that step.”
“I know, but this is something he’s supposed to do!” Kendall whines.
“Maybe he already thinks you’re exclusive, but doesn’t realize it’s not implied? You guys have been dating practically all summer, and you are sleeping together.”
“That’s making an awfully big assumption.”
“Call him presumptuous, then, but you should still discuss it with him.”
