I know it.
I believe it.
I believe in her.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the plastic egg and hold it out to Avery. "Here, this is for you…"
"Aw, you shouldn't have." She grins, snatching it from me. She pops it open, pulling out the little ring, the adjustable winding band colorfully woven like a rainbow. "It's beautiful!"
"It's not much, but it's all I have right now. It's all I can afford. Literally. I just used my last quarter."
Avery laughs.
"But someday I'll have more," I continue, "and when I do, I promise you… it's yours, Avery."
She stares at me in silence, her eyes drifting to the little plastic ring. She nods subtly as she slips it on her ring finger, holding it up to look at it in the moonlight. "I don't need more, Reece."
"Maybe not, but you deserve more, and I'm going to give it to you." I smirk, leaning down to kiss her. "Even if I seriously have to pawn my boombox and sell a kidney to do it."
The metal ball rattled inside the canister as he shook it, stirring up the fresh black paint. His hand was wrapped around it, his pointer finger pressed against the cap as he stared at the wall of the shop in front of him, at the mediocre mural his friend once painted.
Almost a year had passed since that day, and he still hadn't figured out what the white blob in the mural was supposed to be. All that his friend would say was 'it is what it is'.
And what it was, he thought, was something that needed fixed. Maybe it was a cloud, a sheep, or a marshmallow... but at that moment all he saw was a blank canvas.
Maybe that had really been his friend's intention.
Aiming the nozzle, he pressed down, hearing the distinct hiss as the paint came out. It was instinct, as his hand followed a pattern it would never forget, drawing the outline of the shape he knew as well as his own signature. It had been his signature, once upon a time, the way he signed his art while still remaining anonymous.
Until he wasn't anonymous anymore.
Hatter.
He used to think the life he wanted was impossible, that he'd fallen too far, done too much to ever make right what had somehow gone terribly wrong. But like the real Hatter would tell you, the one from the storybooks: it's only impossible if you believe it so.
He didn't believe that anymore.
He got everything he dreamed of: a blank canvas, a clean slate to start over.
His hand moved swiftly, expertly, filling in the white space in the center, completing the black silhouette of the figure in the top hat. He lowered the spray can when it was finished and stared at it, the intoxicating scent of paint fumes heavy in the air around him.
It felt a bit like déjà vu, but he knew it wasn't. This was nothing like before.
He wouldn't fuck up again.
He had too much to live for.
He couldn't make those same mistakes anymore.
Acknowledgements
This story is unlike any story I've ever written, so if you've stuck with it this far without throwing it against the wall and shouting 'what is this shit,' thank you. Thank you for taking a chance on the tortured artist and his crazy little miss.
Thanks to Sarah Anderson, who read this story from the very beginning and assured me that it's okay if nobody gets kidnapped… or dies… or is seriously maimed. You assured me that not every story needs violence or tragedy or even seriously heavy angst. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for looking at this story and seeing the worth in it, worth my self-doubt made it hard to see. I couldn't ask for a better writing buddy.
To Nicki Bullard, my best friend, the greatest book signing assistant imaginable. So many of our adventures end up in my stories… none of this would be what it is without your friendship. I love you.
To my family, for their unending support, and to my friends, all like three of you. You are absolutely amazing. You make me who I am.
To Charlie Keller, who graces this gorgeous cover. The moment I saw you, I knew you'd make a perfect Reece. I just had no idea how much so. You're an amazing human being. To Tyler Seielstad, who took the photo that graces this gorgeous cover. You're extremely talented and I'm lucky to have gotten the chance to use some of your work.
I should also thank Brandon Gallero, my tattoo artist in Fayetteville, NC. It's hard, putting trust in someone to mark you permanently. I'm so very grateful to have found an artist like you.
Special thanks to Michelle Harper Collins for the reading this bad boy for me at crunch time. You're awesome.
The Mad Tatter Page 24
