Inked Hearts

by Lindsay Detwiler

  “Sounds great,” I say, although it doesn’t sound great at all. I can hardly wait to hear what my parents have to say about it.

  “I’ll call Lysander and tell him to get us a table ready.”

  “Thank you, darling,” Mom says, and I’m reminded of how much I hate it when she uses that word.

  “So, how long are you staying?” I nonchalantly ask, hoping she’ll say a day.

  “Oh, I don’t know. A few days at least,” she answers, and I feel the happiness from last night wane.

  “Great. We’ll get to know each other,” Jesse says, trying to stay positive and probably trying to impress my parents.

  I purposely haven’t talked a whole lot about them, but I can’t shield Jesse from them any longer. He’s about to find out just how aggravating they can be.

  Don’t get me wrong. I love them. But loving them and agreeing with their… attitudes… are two different things.

  And loving them and knowing they’re going to rip Jesse apart—that’s a completely different story altogether.

  ***

  Jesse calls Brett to get him to cover his appointment for him. I insist he doesn’t have to do that, but he won’t hear otherwise. I know it shouldn’t matter that my parents are here. It’s not like I’m a teenager asking for my dad’s approval. I can’t help but be a little stressed though. I feel a bit like Jesse’s on trial, and that I have to prove to my parents I didn’t rush into a mistake.

  I feel like no matter how great Jesse is, he’ll never win them over. They’ve been against my move here from the beginning. Adding a new man to the picture is only going to solidify their hatred of this new life I’ve owned.

  We walk to Midsummer Nights, Mom chattering on about her latest trip to the spa and about how stressed Dad’s been. We listen to her fill the walk with discussions of the weather and traffic. She talks about how her flip-flops are hurting her feet, about the new stray cat in the neighborhood, and everything else that pops in her head. No one gets a word in, which is fine with me. I revel in not talking, in just walking beside Jesse, holding hands.

  When we get to Midsummer Nights, Jesse holds the door for all of us.

  “Oh, wow. This is such a cute place,” Mom says. I can’t read her expression to tell if there’s a hint of sarcasm underneath it.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty great. We love working here, right, Avery?” Jodie asks.

  “We do. Lysander is amazing. And they have great food,” I respond, meaning it. I’m glad my parents are going to see where I work and the friends I’ve made. Maybe now they’ll realize this isn’t just a stage I’m going through or a whim. It’s my life, and I’m happy.

  “Wow, coming to work early,” Lysander jokes when we walk through the door.

  “You wish,” Jodie says, flopping into the huge, round booth in the corner reserved for large parties. Today, we qualify.

  We all scooch into the enormous booth, but still sit a little closer than I’d like to be in this situation. Jesse ends up between me and my mom, and Jodie is to my left. We hand my parents menus, none of us needing them.

  “So, Jesse, tell me about your work. What do you do?” Mom asks as she peruses the menu.

  “I’m a tattoo artist,” he says.

  “Oh, I see,” my dad responds.

  “He owns a tattoo parlor. Not just any parlor, though. He’s one of the best in town,” I say, hating that I sound like I’m defending Jesse’s job. I hate that my parents make me feel like I have to.

  “Yeah, that’s actually how they met,” Jodie pipes in.

  “Oh, wow.” Mom eyes me, before turning to my dad. “So, I think I’m going to get pancakes.”

  In my mother’s world, this is her way of saying she doesn’t approve and that she thinks I’m an idiot. I’ve spent enough time with her to know this is her way of giving Jesse the cold shoulder.

  I try not to let it get to me. Of course Mom isn’t going to like him, because if she admits he’s good for me, she’s basically condoning me staying here. She’s not ready to admit I’ve made a good decision. She’s not ready to let me go. More than that, I don’t think she’s ready to let go of the perfect image she had for my life—and the fact this doesn’t fit the bill.

  We continue small talk about the weather forecast and the hash browns. Eventually, Lysander himself takes our order.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Johannas, I just want to say it’s been a pleasure having your daughter here. She’s a stand-up girl.”

  “Yes, I agree. Although I wouldn’t get used to her. I’m sure this is just a temporary job for her, with her having a degree and all.”

  “Mom, really?” I say, giving her dagger eyes. I look to Lysander, shaking my head. He just smiles at me and gives me a look that says he understands. I sigh, frustrated already with this whole scenario. Still, we put in our orders, and Lysander heads to the kitchen.

  Jodie and Jesse are both pretty quiet. I’m guessing they can sense the tension. Great. I finally find happiness with Jesse, and now my parents are going to send him running for the hills.

  As if he can read my mind, he squeezes my hand under the table. I turn and smile at him. He gets it. He’s not going anywhere. We just need to make it through today.

  “So how was yesterday for you? Was it tough, sweetie?” Mom asks as Dad sips his coffee, probably trying to avoid this awkward conversation. He’s never been one to talk about emotions.

  “A little. But I’m okay.”

  “I don’t think you could possibly be okay. He was such a huge part of our life. It’s just a shame it ended the way it did.”

  I’m silent. There’s nothing I can say to this.

  “So did Avery tell you about her amazing painting?” Jodie says, probably trying to help out by changing the subject.

  “You’re painting?” Dad asks, seemingly thankful for the subject change.

  “Just on the side.”

  “Are you kidding? You get like five calls a week,” Jodie pipes in.

  “You’re amazing,” Jesse says, his green eyes peering into mine. He turns to my mom. “She is seriously good. You should swing by the tattoo parlor and see her work.”

  Mom’s face is unmoved. “Maybe at some point I could. It’s good to have a hobby, I suppose,” she says.

  I feel the cut of her words. I try to remind myself this is who she is. She’s always been this way. I can’t change her. Being away from her these past few months, fleeing from so much of the family drama, has made me realize that moving here has been freeing in more ways than one.

  Mom does cool down over breakfast, though. She actually laughs at a few of Jesse’s jokes, asks Jodie about her writing, and even appears moved when Jesse tells the story about why he opened a tattoo shop. I calm down, thinking I’m just being hard on Mom. This is a big change for her. I get that.

  As frustrating as she can be, as overbearing as she can be, I love her. She’s my mom, and she’s always been there for me. Her intentions are in the right place.

  So when breakfast is finished and Jesse says his goodbyes to head to work, I’m shocked by the shift in tone. Once Jodie’s headed back to the kitchen to talk to Lysander, and Jesse’s out of sight, the true words surface.

  “You aren’t getting serious with him, are you? Tell me you’re not,” Mom barks as soon as the door closes behind him.

  “Mom, what if I am?”

  “He’s not good for you. He’s a tattoo artist, for God’s sake. You need something bigger in your life. You’re a go-getter. Don’t settle. Don’t rebound.”

  My blood boils now. “Are you kidding me? Is anyone good enough for you? Oh, I’m sorry, hotshot Chris was good enough for you. And look how that turned out. Mom, I’ve started a new life for myself, and I love it.”

  “You’re a waitress, Avery. Really? After all that schooling, this is what you choose?” She motions toward the Shakespeare poster near us.

  “Yes. I’m happy here. I thought you’d be happy that I’m happy, but I guess not.” I toss d
own my napkin and scooch toward my dad, who graciously lets me out of the booth. I storm out of Midsummer Nights, tears forming.

  I feel like I’m seventeen again. I know I shouldn’t let this get to me.

  But it does. I wanted her to like him. I wanted her to be happy that I’ve found a new sense of happiness. Maybe if I’m being honest, I wanted some sort of validation that I’ve done well for myself. I know it’s stupid. I know I should be making my own decisions and owning them. I guess after spending my whole life seeking her approval, things haven’t changed as much as I would like. I still haven’t let go of the need to make her proud of me—which is a difficult battle.

  I wanted Mom to see I’ve done a good thing here and that I’ve found something special. I guess I should’ve known better.

  Because just like Chris, my mom only sees me one way. She sees the Avery she wants to see, and this version of me doesn’t fit with her view.

  I storm out onto the boardwalk, kick off my shoes, and head down to the beach. There are already some tanners and some volleyball players claiming their pieces of beach. I head down to the water, my sanctuary. I remind myself to breathe.

  I stand for a while gawking at the water, wondering how things got so complicated. Last night was the best night of my life. Why do I let this taint my mood? Why am I letting my mom’s opinions get to me?

  “I truly think she means well, although she has a funny way of showing it,” a deep voice says. I turn to see my dad, also barefoot, standing beside me. “It’s beautiful here. Great view.”

  I smile. “It’s just frustrating. She can be so difficult sometimes.”

  “You’re telling me.” Dad chuckles. “I know she’s overbearing. I honestly think she just misses you. She has a crappy way of showing it, I know. I think she’s worried you’re rushing into a life here, that you’re settling into something as a rebound.”

  I sigh. “But I’m not.”

  We stand for a while, admiring the waves crashing into each other. A few kids shriek and run, one chasing the other with a sand crab. I laugh, and so does my dad.

  “Listen, Avery, I want to talk to you about something. Please just hear me out, okay?”

  I nod. My dad’s always been more rational, more levelheaded. I heed his words more than my mom’s.

  “The truth is, we didn’t just come here to check on you. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  I feel like this is going to be a pivotal moment, a pivotal question. My dad’s voice seems to waver with uncertainty.

  “Okay,” I respond, waiting for him to drop a bombshell.

  “I’m retiring. It’s time for me to move on to the next phase of life, to relax a little.”

  “Wow. How soon?”

  “A few months. I need to get some things in order.”

  “Okay.” I kind of know where this might be going, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions.

  “I want you to take over the firm, Avery.”

  “Dad, I—”

  “Just listen. You know the business. You’re family. You should be in charge. I know you need some more experience, but I can help you. I can get you ready to take over.”

  I look at the waves again, soaking in my dad’s words. Not long ago, this would have been news I would have been eager to hear. This would’ve been the opportunity of a lifetime. This would have prompted a champagne celebration with Chris and animated talk about the future. This would have been what I was searching for.

  Now the words are just confusing. They make me feel trapped between the life I’m supposed to live and the life I want to live. Suddenly, I feel enmeshed in the life I had and the life I have. How can I reconcile the two?

  I’m happy here. I’m building a life. Sure, it’s simple and nothing like my old life. But that’s sort of the point. It’s easy and relaxed. It’s walks on the beach with Henry and Jake, and nights at the carnival with Jodie. It’s ice-cream dates with Jesse, and parasailing adventures. It’s everything that stuffy firm didn’t give me. It’s everything Chris, Pittsburgh, and my old life couldn’t be.

  But what my dad is offering isn’t something to toss into the wind, either. His offer is an offer of financial security. It’s the chance to be someone important, to be successful in a very physical sense of the word. It’s the chance to lead and to be powerful. It’s the chance to rise to my potential. It’s the chance to be loyal to my family and carry on my dad’s legacy. It’s an opportunity to be a good daughter and to help out those I love. It’s something that at one point I thought I wanted. It’s something I think I really did want at one point—but what about now?

  “Dad, I don’t know. I’m happy here.”

  “But you were happy at home once, too. I know this whole Chris thing threw you off course. Please, Avery, don’t let his mistakes change the trajectory of your entire life. Don’t lower your goals because of him. I know this life is making you happy right now, and I understand its appeal. But tell me, Avery, is this enough? You’re a go-getter. You’ve always wanted to climb the ladder. Will you regret it if you say no to this?”

  “I don’t know,” I mutter before I can censor my words. Because it’s the truth, if I’m being honest. I don’t know what I’m going to feel down the road. Either way, I’m going to leave something behind.

  “Just think about it, okay? I don’t need an answer today or even tomorrow. But I want you to decide for yourself. I want you to make the decision that’s right for you. Forget about Chris. Forget about what Jesse wants. Forget about trying to live a different life, and live a life you actually want. Live a life that isn’t going to leave you with regrets. I think if you’re really honest, that life could be running the firm. Selfishly, I want it to be that choice. So does your mom. But Avery, I want you to make the decision that’s right for you.”

  I feel tears trickling because of the momentousness of his words, but also because of the confusion they’ve brought.

  Last night, I finally had a breakthrough. I finally felt without a doubt that I’m right where I belong. But what if Dad’s right? What if this isn’t the life that will make me happy in the long run? What if having this freedom, this life, means giving up on a dream I used to have? A dream I might even still have, at least to some extent?

  And so, yet again I feel tossed out to sea, two life rafts floating toward me.

  And for the first time since coming here, I absolutely don’t know which one is the one I should reach for.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  My parents stay for two more days. We all go to dinner the next night, and things smooth out with Jesse. I feel like he wins them over, even making my mom laugh over his joke about the president. Things are on the up. Of course, maybe it’s just because Dad told Mom he thinks he got through to me.

  For a few days, I let it go, trying not to think about the decision I have to make. I want to go back to being the Avery in Jesse’s bed, thinking about the possibilities here, not having to think about giving up an entire business and financial future.

  The Wednesday after my parents leave, Jesse texts me after my shift at work.

  Jesse: Coming to get you. Get ready for some action.

  I giggle at his text, which is the worst pickup line or innuendo I’ve ever heard. Still, I toss on my favorite jeans and a cozy flannel, the chilly air necessitating warmer clothes. Who knows what he has in mind, but it’s best to be prepared for some time outside.

  When he picks me up a few hours later, he’s also wearing jeans and a flannel.

  “Wow. Twins?” I laugh, gesturing toward our red flannels.

  “You two are just adorable,” Jodie says, coming into the living room from her nap in her room. She’s holding Sebastian, who is purring so loudly I can hear him across the room.

  “Should I change?” I ask, not really sure what the protocol is when you match your boyfriend.

  “I’m insulted. You don’t want to match me? I’m the king of style.”

  I snicker, shrug, and then wave g
oodbye to Jodie as I follow him out the door. He grabs my hand, and despite the chill in the air, despite the scent of fall creeping into me, I warm.

  “So where to?” I ask, curious.

  “Somewhere with lots of action. I told you.”

  “I have no idea what that means.”

  “You’re about to find out.”

  I smile, shaking my head. With Jesse, you never know where you’re headed.

  I love that about him.

  A few minutes later and after some discussion about the latest tattoo drama, we arrive at our destination.

  Funland.

  “Really?” I grin. Inside, I’m jumping up and down a little. I haven’t been to an arcade since I was young. There’s just something about those neon lights, those beeping games, and the music that takes me back. Nostalgia courses through my veins as we walk under the lit-up sign.

  With the summer sun fading into fall and the tourists mostly dispersed, it’s desolate on the boardwalk. We’ve got the place to ourselves, other than a guy named Steve working the prize counter.

  “Are you ready to get your butt kicked in every game in the arcade?” Jesse asks.

  I scoff at him. “Are you kidding? I was the arcade champ in my day. I even earned enough tickets to get the sno-cone machine in sixth grade.”

  “We’ll see about that. I’m a pro at Skee Ball.”

  “I bet I’ll get more tickets than you.”

  “You’re on. What’s the bet?”

  I grin, pretending to rub my chin. “Oh, I’m sure we can think of something to play for.” I give him a purposely creepy wink.

  “Not getting what you’re saying,” he says teasingly.

  I lean in and whisper in his ear. Steve is eyeing us from the counter. I blush a little just thinking about Steve overhearing what I’m saying.

  I’m not one to talk dirty. But I guess I’ll blame it on the neon lights and the crazy music coming from the DDR machine.

  Jesse turns a bit red as well. “You’re on.”

  “Game on,” I reply.

  He shakes his head.

  “What?”