“Do you want to talk about it?” Ronnie asks, her voice soft and comforting.
What can I say? The one person I looked up to and believed in my entire life is gone and I’ve finally come to terms with it. The one thing that fucking stings is the fact I didn’t get a sliver of closure. He died and I never got to say goodbye to him. I never got to tell him I loved him one last time. I never got to tell him what a great brother he was. I’m silent for a long time. My girl isn’t the least bit intrusive as she sits quietly at my side, resting her head on my shoulder as a silent gesture to show me that she’s here for me.
“Tonight… was rough.”
Ronnie kisses my shoulder before pulling away to gaze up at my face. Grey’s asleep on her lap, evidently, he’s exhausted from his night of excitement. I study his facial features, finding many similarities between his and my brother’s face. I feel one of Ronnie’s hands reach out to cup my cheek as her other hand takes ahold of mine, resting our joined hands on my lap. Her guileless eyes bore into mine and I’m lost their depths. When I look at her, it’s as if all my problems fade away and all I see is her. She provides me with such a profound sense of peace. I feel like I fall more and more in love with her with each passing moment. She presses her lips to mine. My entire body relaxes as the pouty, softness of her mouth comforts me. She tastes salty, yet, still perfect—making me want all of her. At least, all which she’s willing to give me. I moan against the pillows of her mouth; she opens her lips just enough to allow my tongue to slip inside. I close my eyes at the sensation of her tongue flirting with mine.
She finally pulls away when she needs to take a breath, letting go of my hand to smooth her hair and calm herself down. It’s obvious that the kiss excited her just as much as it did me. I rest my hands on my lap to hide my erection because I know she’s most likely not ready for that just yet. I don’t want to ruin anything by having sex too soon. It’s sad that I’m so used to just bagging girls that I don’t know how to properly date one. I’ve got no idea how to pace our physical relationship. Hopefully, Ronnie will guide me because I don’t want to move too fast and scare her away.
I’m still calming down from the kiss, when Grey stirs awake from his place in Ronnie’s lap. He looks up at the both of us with a questionable look in his eye. It’s as if he knew what we were doing mere inches away from him. His bottom lip quivers before he begins to cry, immediately reaching out for me to take him. He’s always so needy when it comes to my affection, and I guess I sort of like it. It’s nice to feel wanted and needed by someone. Grey’s calmed down now that he’s resting comfortably on my shoulder. Ronnie’s looking at me with such admiration; no one’s ever fucking looked at me this way before. A man covered in tattoos and piercings doesn’t always garner that sort of reverence. Ronnie has a knack for making me feel ten-fucking-feet tall.
“He loves you so much,” she muses as she reaches out to play with his little feet.
“He said ‘da’ today,” I can’t help but brag.
“Aw,” Ronnie coos, “he must’ve been trying to say ‘daddy’! That’s wonderful!”
“I have been saying ‘dad’ around him all day today before he finally said it,” I’ve got to admit. “I just couldn’t help myself. It slipped out while I was giving him a bath and it just sounded right to me. Fuck, it felt right to me.”
“Well, you are his dad, Trev. You provide for him, you’re his mentor, and you love him more than anything. He’s your world. That’s what a dad is—and I think you make a sensational one.”
As soon as she’s finished speaking, I crash my lips against hers, pouring every ounce of myself into my kiss. I try to express to her the words that I’m too fucking afraid to say out loud. Through my kiss I tell her that I love her, that I need her, and that I’ll want her for the rest of my life. It’s Grey and his fussiness that eventually pull us apart. As soon as I break away from her, he’s tugging on my chin with his chubby little hand and gives me a needy look. I laugh because he’s so used to getting all of my attention. Finally, I grant him his wish and kiss him on his forehead. Grey giggles at the affection before resting his head happily against my shoulder again.
“See, Trev. He knows you’re his daddy.”
I remain silent for a moment, considering her words. “I thought I’d insult my brother’s memory in some way if I called myself that.”
“Trev, I didn’t get to know your brother, but I’m sure he gave you custody of his son so you could be a father to him. He obviously knew that you two would be perfect for each other. I’m sure if Dean could see you right now, he’d be smiling down at you. He’s got to be proud of you. I know I am.”
I tear up at her words and quickly look away, hiding my face. As hard as it is to believe, I’m sure she’s right. Why else would he make me his son’s guardian? He must have believed I’d be a good dad to Grey. It’s just so hard to imagine that anyone could believe I’d be good for anything—but that was just who my brother was. He saw the best in me when no one else did. He saw past my rough exterior and my shameful past. He saw the man I could be if I’d just take the right path in life. When I gain control of myself again, I look to my side at Ronnie. She’s always so patient with me.
“Thanks for saying that.” I love you. I wish I had the courage to say the last part.
Ronnie rests her head on my shoulder and nuzzles up to me just like Grey does. As we sit in silence, I realize how fucking lucky I am. I have a family I never dreamed I wanted. As time comfortably passes, I regard the two full sleeves of tattoos on my arms. I started getting inked as soon as I left Colorado at nineteen. I wish I had some room left on one of my arms to pay tribute to my brother. I never got any closure and fresh ink would be an incredible memorial to him. One day, I could show the tattoo to Grey and tell him all about his amazing father—the brother I had loved and lost. I want this tattoo to be a bold and powerful piece, one to symbolize who my brother was and what he meant to me.
I observe the artwork on my arms as I try to come up with an idea for my brother’s memorial tattoo. Both arms were completed by the same artist, giving the pieces a nice uniformity and flow. My right arm is a hyper-realistic lion, surrounded by black and gray roses; it fades out into an intricate pattern that transforms into my one pop of color, the blood red rose. On the left arm is an incredible geometric tattoo that I love but would’ve never thought to pick for myself. I allowed the artist to use me as a blank canvas, and I’m still in love with the result. It’s incredible to me that multiple pieces can come together like a puzzle to form one fantastic, intricate sleeve. While I love the tattoos and the fact they symbolize the demons I’ve dealt with as I came into my own, I want the tattoo for my brother to be even more incredible. My back is untouched and I could utilize that space if I wanted to.
While I’m inked on my chest and even my neck, I never managed to get to my back—mainly due to lack of funds. I’m grateful my back is blank because the ideas I had back then were horrendous, and now I get to dedicate an entire back-piece to Dean. The idea of a kneeling angel weighs heavy on my mind. I’ve seen tattoos like that on other people, but I could allow the artist to throw it their own twist into it. My brother was one of a kind and I want this tattoo to be the same way. It would be such an incredible representation of how I feel about him because I’m willing to change my ways in order to do right by him for the rest of my life by being a father to his child. Also, I’d like to think he’s watching over me, even though I’ve never believed in any sort of higher power before his death.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” Ronnie asks as she rubs her hand up and down my arm.
“I was thinking about getting another tattoo. One in memory of Dean.”
“That’s a great idea, Trev.”
Before she can continue, I add, “I just want to have some closure. I never got any.” She’s silent and looks at me with soulful eyes, giving me time to elaborate on my thoughts when I’m ready. “I wasn’t there when he died. They
couldn’t reach me before his surgery, but it’s not like I would’ve made it back here even if they had. I would’ve done my best to rush back here, though. If it only meant I could see Dean one last time… alive. Just to watch him breath before they whisked him off to surgery. I would’ve at least gotten to hold his hand,” I say, tears filling my eyes and a lump settling in my throat. “I would’ve wanted to hold his hand and tell him it was going to be okay. He was in surgery by the time my parents got to the hospital. He didn’t get to see any of his family, Ronnie,” I continue, growing fucking hysterical at her side. “He didn’t get to see our parents before he died. He didn’t get to say goodbye to his son.”
“Trev…” Ronnie begins, tears beginning to fall from her sympathetic eyes, trailing down her cheeks. She grasps my hand and holds it so tightly it hurts.
“I should’ve stayed in Evergreen. I would’ve stayed and been miserable if it meant I would’ve been able to say goodbye to him. Fuck, I couldn’t even look at him in his casket at the funeral. I watched everyone else get up and pay my respects, but I couldn’t leave my seat. And Cat… God, she died in that fucking car at the scene of the accident. I imagine Dean held her hand and told her to hang on because that’s just the type of guy he was. He would’ve encouraged her to keep going, even when he must’ve seen the light leaving her eyes. God, Ronnie. I don’t know what the fuck I would do if that were you.”
She lets me cry on her shoulder for a long time and while I can’t see her face, I know she’s crying, as well. My hands shake as I hold Grey in my arms. The soft rise and fall of his chest is like a lifeline—because he’s I’ve got left of my brother. I want to be strong for him, but it feels so good to cry, to break-down like this and cleanse my emotions. She holds me against her chest and waits for the last of my tears to fall.
“Do you know what tattoo you want, Trev?” she asks, her voice raw from crying.
“Some sort of angel,” I say weakly, as I slowly raise my head from her chest and wrap both my arms around my son.
“That’s wonderful, Trev. What a wonderful way to honor your brother.”
Ronnie spends the night. I hold her as she sleeps and let the soft sound of her breath soothe me. I’m looking forward to tomorrow. A little ink therapy will do me good. I hope this gives me some sort of closure. If anything, it will make me feel like Dean will always be with me. Although, I know he’s here with at my side even without the tattoo.
With a few inspirational photographs in hand, I sit in the waiting room of the tattoo shop with Ronnie and Grey while we wait for my artist to finish up with his current client. I know it’s probably frowned upon to take a baby to a tattoo shop, but I really wanted him here for this. I wanted him to be a part of this healing process with me.
The woman in the tattoo chair is moaning in agony, making me to cringe in response. I don’t see what her problem is, but then again, I’ve always had a high tolerance when it came to physical pain. As strange as it fucking sounds, I always thought getting a tattoo was comparable to some sort of religious experience. The woman seated on the chair obviously doesn’t share my point of view. Grey finds the sound of her crying to be hysterical for some reason, and I can’t help but laugh as the loud sounds of her screams and my son’s laughter bounce off the walls of the reception area.
“Maybe I should get a tattoo,” Ronnie comments as she bounces Grey on her lap.
“Do you have any?” I ask, wondering where one could be considering I haven’t seen it. She’d look hot as fuck with a tattoo. Of course, she looks hot as fuck right now.
“I do,” she says, coyly, “but I’m not telling you where. That’s a secret.”
“Is it?” I can’t help but sound a little cocky as I tease her. “I’m sure I’ll see it eventually.”
“Maybe you will,” she teases as she throws me a wink.
The way she looks at me sends a shiver down my spine and I’ve got to keep the conversation flowing before my mind wanders off to places that will cause me some… embarrassment. “What tattoo would you get if you were going to get one today?”
She shrugs. “I’ve always wanted a literary quote inked on my skin.”
“Do you know which quote you’d get?”
“Well, I always liked this one quote from The Kite Runner.” She says the quote with a smile. “I always thought that was the most beautiful quote I’d ever heard.”
“That is beautiful,” I agree. It definitely describes how I feel about her and Grey. I’d do anything for them.
My artist finishes up with his client and takes quick smoke break before he starts on mine. I fill out the paperwork and as I do, my emotions begin to well up inside of me. I just never fucking thought I’d be getting a tattoo for this reason. I never thought I’d outlive my brother. Due to the horrible life choices I made in the past, I honestly never thought I’d see thirty.
“Are you feeling all right, Trev?” Ronnie asks as the receptionist leads us back to my artist’s station.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say dismissively, not wanting to seem like a fucking pussy during this. I don’t want to seem pathetic, but this is going to be a cathartic experience for me and I know I’ve got to let my emotions flow. “Just hold my hand, okay?”
She nods and smiles at me, I look down at Grey to find he’s just as happy to be here with me. I take off my shirt and Ronnie’s eyes widen. It takes me a moment to realize this is the first time she’s seen my bare chest. Her eyes roam over my tattoos, piercings, and muscles before they settle back on my face. I don’t think she was aware of the extent my ink, but if her small smile is any indication, I think she’s happy with what she finds. I lay chest down on the tattoo chair and wait for the familiar, comforting feeling of the tattoo gun. I peer over at my artist as he traces the design I gave him. It’s just what I wanted, an intricate fallen angel, kneeling with his head bent down. The wings are what made me fall in love with the piece—they’re beautiful, yet powerful at the same time. The piece is devastating and hauntingly beautiful and speaks to me on a deeper level. When I look at it, I feel my brother; that was the deciding factor I needed. The artist made the piece his own, improving it by making it match the spirit of my other tattoos. I scrutinize the stencil’s reflection for a long time in the mirror, captivated by the way seeing the design on my skin makes me feel. It takes me a moment to gather myself to give him the approval to go ahead.
I lay back down on the chair and welcome the familiar sting of the needle. I love the pain and welcome it like an old friend. It makes me feel alive. The monotonous feeling of the needle piercing into the skin of my back and the hum of the machine relaxes me into a state of Zen I’m sure people only reach through deep meditation. Ronnie is holding my hand, rubbing soothing circles into my palm as she watches the artist work his magic on my back. My eyes are on my son. His wide, curious eyes stare back at me, trying to determine if I’m okay. As the minutes tick by, he begins to nod off in my girl’s arms. He’s fast asleep an hour later and after another smoke break, my artist is deep in his work.
As the needle penetrates the skin of my back, I think of why I’m doing this. I close my eyes and see my brother’s face in my mind. It’s like he’s with me again and I savor the feeling. The pain is making me so delirious that for a moment, I almost believe he’s really by my side. I’ll take good care of Grey, Brother. I promise. I’ll make you proud, I tell the man in my mind, wishing he could hear me somehow. In my imagination, Dean smiles at me, but doesn’t respond. I guess I’m not creative enough to give him words. I’m so sorry I wasn’t with you. I would’ve given anything to have been there. The imaginary Dean gives me a knowing grin, as if to tell me he knows I would’ve been with him if I could. I love you, man. I feel tears roll down my cheeks, but I keep my eyes closed, waiting for my mind to conjure up his answer. While he doesn’t speak—fuck my terrible imagination—the look he gives me says enough. I open my eyes, feeling reborn.
My back is numb as fuck as my first session concludes.
In a daze from the imaginary conversation I just had, I let go of Ronnie’s hand and slide off the table to look at the artist’s work so far. It’s absolutely incredible and beyond my wildest expectations. The outline and wings are finished. They look perfectly suited for a dark angel. I quickly wipe away my tears, turning to face my artist, and I thank him for the beginnings of such a sick ass tattoo.
“No problem,” he says as he begins to clean-up his station. “Two more sessions should finish it up.” He must see the residual pain in my eyes because he asks, “Was there a special meaning behind this piece?” The way he poses the question suggests he must know the answer. I’m sure he does many memorial tattoos.
“It’s for my older brother,” I say as I look at the piece in the mirror again. “Dean. It’s in memory of brother, Dean.”
As we leave the tattoo shop, after setting up my next appointment, I feel as though a giant weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I’ve moved on from denial to finally moving on toward the beginnings of true acceptance. I feel peaceful. I know the road ahead will be difficult, but now I feel I can finally face my problems with a clear head and confidence.
“Thanks for coming with me, Ronnie. You don’t know how much it means to me.”
“It was nothing. I loved being there to comfort you. I’m happy you wanted me to be a part of that experience.”
“I want you to be a part of everything,” I say, as I stop walking and look at her.
“Trev—” she begins to say, but I cut her off.
“Ronnie, I feel almost silly asking you this at this point because I feel like our relationship is so meaningful already. You’ve quickly become my world and Grey’s world as well. I want you and I want to keep you.”
“What are you saying?” I know she understands, but it’s obvious she wants me to say the words, and I don’t blame her.
The Blessing Page 20
