by Mark Carver
His mouth felt dry, his tongue like sandpaper. He swallowed, but there was nothing. His vision was swimming, but he could see one thing very clearly.
Chucky’s eyes. They were as big as dinner plates.
“How…how does it look?” Cameron rasped.
Chucky blinked with wordless astonishment. Then he said, “Dude…you’ve got to see it to believe it.”
Cameron’s heart lurched. A single thought raced through his mind.
What have I done?
He felt something cool and stinging press against his throbbing cheek. Ivan gingerly wiped the tattoo with several cloths that quickly became dark with excess ink and Cameron’s blood.
After it was clean, Ivan rose to his feet and motioned towards the mirror.
“Go check it out, man. Tell me what you think.”
Cameron had to force his body to relax before he could move. The fire was spreading across his entire face now, and stars flashed before his eyes as a great wave of nausea crashed into his brain. For a second, he thought he might black out.
He felt Chucky’s firm hand against his back. With his friend’s help, he stumbled to his feet, tottering dangerously.
“Take it easy,” Ivan advised. “You’ll feel a bit dizzy for a while.”
Cameron trudged towards the mirror, shuffling his feet like an old man.
What have I done? What have I done?
Chucky gave him a gentle push. “Take a look, Cameron.”
Cameron’s stomach was as tight as a drum. He didn’t want to look. He wanted to believe that his face looked like it did in the doctored photos, but he didn’t want to see the real thing.
But he knew he had to.
He raised his eyes, feeling more nervous than he had ever felt in his entire life.
He looked in the mirror.
His knees buckled, and he would have fallen down if Chucky hadn’t kept him upright.
“Chucky…” he gasped.
Chucky’s face split into a broad, toothy grin. “I know, right?”
Cameron couldn’t believe his eyes. Despite the redness and swelling, the tattoo was…
Awesome.
His heart thundered like a jackhammer. He stared at his reflection in a daze. He couldn’t have looked away even if he wanted to. He reached up and gingerly touched his face, as if to reassure himself that what he was seeing was real.
Reluctantly, he tore his eyes away and looked back at Ivan. The tattoo artist smiled.
“Well?”
Cameron couldn’t speak for a moment. “I can’t believe it,” he finally sputtered. “It’s…I feel like I’ve been transformed!”
“Well, you have,” Ivan said as he pulled off his black tattoo gloves and unhooked the machine. “You have a new face, my friend.”
A new face…
Cameron leaned closer, the artist in him finally taking control of his mind. He gazed keenly at the incredibly steady line work and marveled at the excellent ink coverage. Not a stray squiggle, not a single patchy spot. The three sharp lines streaking down his cheek contoured perfectly to the curvature of his skull, and the wide crescent arcing around his eye was flawless. The tiny triangles ringing the outside of the crescent were completely symmetrical, and the entire design flowed perfectly with the shape of his face.
“Ivan,” he said, triumph ringing in his voice, “I love it!”
Ivan nodded sagely, though his eyes sparkled. “I’ve done some sick face tattoos for homeboys and bangers, but this is my best by far.”
He pulled out a digital camera and snapped a couple of pictures to show Cameron how it looked in real life, rather than reversed in the mirror.
Cameron felt that flood of adrenaline that Ivan had promised. Chucky was beaming like a child at Christmas, and he pulled out his phone to take Cameron’s picture as well.
“This is going on Twitter and Facebook right now,” he announced as his chubby fingers flew over the touchscreen.
Cameron knew he had to let Ivan apply some healing balm to his face, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the mirror.
Something stirred in his soul. This is who you really are…
“Cameron?”
Now everyone will know.
“Cameron?”
He turned around and looked at Ivan, who held up a white tube. “You can go all Narcissus later. Right now, we need to clean up your face.”
Cameron smiled with embarrassment. He sat down like a schoolboy waiting for the teacher’s instruction. Ivan smeared some mucus-colored cream on his face, causing him to wince. The cream felt a little hot when it touched his skin, but it was soothing. He could feel a ring of tightness around his eye where the skin had swelled, and he imagined he would look pretty strange later.
Well, more strange than he did right now.
Ivan cut a few bandage strips and stuck them on his face. The tattoo was obscured when he glanced in the mirror again. He looked like a burn patient now. Since this wasn’t his first time around the block, he knew the drill with tattoos, and Ivan gave obligatory advice about lightly washing his face a few hours after getting home and to be sure to keep it clean and coated with ointment. Cameron agreed, still trying to sort out the chaos buzzing in his brain. A thousand thoughts collided in a neuron traffic jam: regret, excitement, residual pain, pride…
He turned towards Chucky. “Ready to go?”
Chucky laughed. “Me? You need to get some rest, pronto.”
Cameron nodded, then dug into his wallet and slapped $600 into Ivan’s hand.
“Thanks,” he said. “It looks amazing.”
Ivan flashed a gleaming smile. “Let me know how it heals. And remember to mention my name when people ask you about it. Something tells me you’re going to have a lot more fans now.”
“You think?”
“Sure. You look like some dude out of a movie or something.”
“Yeah. I guess I do…”
He and Chucky left the tattoo shop, but he didn’t feel like he was walking. He was floating, gliding above the ground. The sunshine seemed to focus on him like a spotlight.
He had done it. He had looked the beast in the eye and didn’t blink. And now he wore a trophy that no one could miss.
He opened the passenger car door as Chucky stepped into the driver’s side. He regarded his reflection in the side mirror, then turned to his friend.
“I look like I just got beat up.”
Chucky laughed. “Imagine explaining your face to an ER doctor.”
Cameron laughed as well, careful not to stretch the skin too much. As Chucky started the car and began to drive, Cameron looked back at the tattoo shop.
He felt as if he had left something back there.
****
When they pulled up to his home, Cameron peeked through the windshield at Mindy’s house. Thankfully, she was nowhere in sight. He felt a new emotion: guilt. How would she react? Yesterday they were jogging buddies, and now he was wearing a different face. She would at least be extremely surprised, if not shocked and horrified.
He gave Chucky’s shoulder a friendly pat. “Thanks for coming with me.”
“Hey, no problem man. I still can’t believe you did it. You’re a maniac!”
Cameron glanced at his bandaged face in the side mirror. A maniac…
He got out of the car and peeked back in. “I think I’m going to stay inside for a couple days, till this thing looks presentable.”
“Well it’ll look good for a couple of days after the swelling goes down, but then it’s the scabbing and flaking. You’re going to be pretty gnarly for at least a week.”
Cameron smirked. Pain spread across his cheek as even that tiny movement stretched the traumatized skin and muscles. “I’ll call you later.”
Chucky waved and drove away. Cameron exhaled, then realized that he was standing out in the open. He jumped like a rabbit and raced into the house. He still missed Conan greeting him like a condescending butler, but he was grateful that his beloved do
g didn’t see him like this. How would he have reacted?
The adrenaline from the tattoo was wearing off, and Cameron started to feel incredibly tired. He poured himself a glass of water to soothe his parched throat, then he staggered to the bedroom. He lay down on the bed with a grateful sigh, careful to lie on his right side. As he drifted into unconsciousness, he could still hear the tattoo needle buzzing in his ear…
****
He didn’t know how long he slept, but he felt something pulling on the left side of his face, as if the tattoo ink were made of lead. He pried his eyes open and looked towards the window.
He didn’t see the window. He saw his closet. His closet on the right side of the bedroom. Which meant that he was…
He clenched his eyes shut, cursing through his teeth.
He was lying on his left side, and his face was stuck to the pillow.
Uttering a continuous stream of curses, he tried to lift his head ever so gently. Instantly, blinding pain flashed through his face and he groaned. He couldn’t let his head fall down on the pillow, since that would cause even more fabric to adhere to his tattooed skin. His eyes roamed his bed and he saw the bandage crumpled below his chin. Why did he have to be such a restless sleeper?
He tried to lift his head again, but with the same result. Grunting with exasperation, he picked up the pillow and held it against his face as he got up from the bed and headed towards the bathroom. He grabbed a hand towel from a rack on the wall. He soaked it in warm water, then held it above his head and squeezed it. The water ran down the side of his face and began soaking the pillow. He soaked the towel and squeezed it again and again until the pillow was saturated. Clenching his jaw and cursing once more for good measure, he slowly peeled the pillowcase away from his face. It wasn’t as painful as before, but it was still agonizing. He felt like he was flaying the skin right off the bone.
Luckily only a few square inches of his face had adhered to the pillowcase, and after a few seconds of torment, he was free. He looked down at the pillow and frowned. A smudged crescent of ink and blood decorated the middle of the pillowcase. It was ruined.
He yanked the pillow free from its covering and tossed the pillowcase in the garbage. He looked down at the naked pillow and groaned.
“Oh, come on…”
The blood and ink had soaked through onto the pillow as well. He considered it for a few moments, then leaned out of the bathroom and tossed it back onto the bed. It was still a good pillow, after all.
He flicked on the bathroom light, afraid of what he would see in the mirror.
And for good reason. He was hideous.
The blood had smeared across his face and dried in dark clumps across his cheek. Dark clots rose like boils where the ink had seeped out and bonded with the congealed blood. His face looked as if he had been attacked by a rabid animal that had raked its claws across his cheek. He picked up the already-soaked hand towel and dabbed lightly at his face. The water stung his skin but it was soothing as well.
After a few minutes, his face was clean. He found the tube of healing cream still in his pocket. With slow, careful movements, he applied the cream to his skin, then he stood up straight and looked at himself.
The swelling had gone down a bit, though the skin was still red and irritated. But at least he didn’t look like Quasimodo anymore.
He liked it, he really did. Perhaps “tattoo remorse” would kick in later, but right now, he was over the moon. He shook his head in disbelief.
You did it. You actually did it.
A knock at the door made him jump.
He looked around in a panic. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this.
He rushed to the living room and peeked through the blinds. His heart sank.
Mindy.
He couldn’t let her see him like this. Maybe he could just ignore her and she would go away…
“Cameron?” she called as she knocked again. “Cameron, you all right? I saw you come home with something on your face. Are you feeling okay?”
Cameron breathed a silent curse. She had seen him, but at least she didn’t know what was going on. He raced back to the bathroom and draped the damp towel over the left side of his face. Demanding that his heart rate slow down, he opened the door.
Mindy’s eyes widened immediately. “Oh my gosh! What happened?”
Cameron licked his lips. “Uh, allergic reaction. Bee sting. My face is kind of freaking out right now, but it should be fine in a day or two.”
“Oh, oh well that’s good.” Her voice was heavy with concern. “Does it hurt?”
Like a mother. “Yeah, a little bit. The bee sting was the worst part, though.”
“Well, do you need me to bring you anything? Food or medicine?”
“No, thanks, I’ve got some stuff. It’s nothing really.”
Mindy’s head nodded like a bobble head doll. She still seemed pretty surprised. “Okay, well I just wanted to come by and see if you’re all right.”
A shadow of disappointment flickered across her face. “I guess this means we’ll have to postpone our barbecue, right?”
Cameron’s heart sank. The barbecue.
A forceful thought pushed its way to the front of his mind.
Listen, the old Cameron is gone. You left him in that tattoo shop. She’s going to find out sooner or later.
He looked Mindy right in the eyes. “No. We’re still on for the barbecue. I’ll be tip-top by then.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Okay,” Mindy said with relief. “Okay, well I’ll see you on Saturday then. Take care of yourself, and if you need me to bring you anything, let me know.”
Cameron nodded, pressing the towel against his head to keep it from falling off. He watched her step off the porch and walk down the driveway, his gaze lingering on the curves of her hips in her cutoff shorts. He felt something snarl with hunger inside him. Something wolfish…
He closed the door and took the towel off. His eyes flashed as a shadow clouded his brow.
The old Cameron is gone…
CHAPTER 9
For the next few days, Cameron didn’t leave the house at all. He had enough food in the fridge to last for a while, and he worked in the shop during the day and stayed inside and watched TV at night. He had to bail on the poker game again, but for some reason his buddies didn’t seem too disappointed.
He only went outside to get the mail, and only after he was sure the coast was clear. Even still, he would always keep his head low, his eyes scanning the concrete driveway rather than looking up to see the sunlight slicing through the palm fronds or the soft, creamy clouds meandering across the sky.
After retrieving his bills and industry newsletters, he would dash back inside, expecting any moment to hear a neighbor’s voice call out, “Hey Cameron, what happened to your face?”
One neighbor in particular.
He saw Mindy jog by a couple of times when he would peek out of his living room window like a house-bound senior citizen. She would usually throw a quick glance towards his house, and once she even paused for a moment, though her feet kept pumping like pistons. He caught a strange, almost sad expression in her face, and then she disappeared down the road.
Cameron let the blinds snap back into place, and he glanced down at the warm beer in his hand.
He felt guilty, like an ex-convict trying to hide his seedy past from the neighborhood. His fingers squeezed the beer bottle as he scowled at himself. The whole purpose for getting the tattoo had been to break open his safe little cocoon, to go out there and seize life by the balls rather than just coast along like a car stuck in neutral but with the good fortune to be on a downward slope.
Yet here he was, hiding like the Phantom of the Opera, ashamed of his disfigurement but yearning for the world to know and admire him. Of course, he reasoned that the tattoo still looked pretty crappy, especially now that it was scabbing and starting to crack in places. It really did look like a healing w
ound and Cameron wasn’t ready to reveal the painting while it was still wet.
But Saturday was tomorrow, and there was no way he could blow off Mindy again. Cameron’s shoulders sagged wearily, and he gulped a mouthful of warm beer. He wished he wasn’t nervous about it, but he was.
At least he had steaks and seasoning in the kitchen, so he wouldn’t have to suffer the indignity of going to the supermarket looking like the victim of an animal attack.
****
Mindy smelled the delicious barbecue smoke as soon as she stepped onto the porch. She knocked loudly even though she knew Cameron wasn’t inside the house.
“Cameron?” she called out.
“Out back!”
Mindy took that as her invitation to go inside. She deposited the picnic basket she carried on the kitchen counter and quickly unloaded a mouth-watering spread of casseroles, pie, cole slaw, and other Southern specialties.
Her stomach was starting to rumble as her nose filled with the scent of marinated steaks sizzling on the grill outside. Taking a moment to step into the tiny bathroom adjacent the kitchen to make sure her hair and light makeup were in order, she winked at her reflection for good luck and fluttered towards the door to the backyard.
Cameron was standing over the grill with his back towards her. Savory smells wafted around him like some kind of delicious mist, and Mindy couldn’t stop her heart from fluttering. She stared at his muscular back stretching his white t-shirt, and she was impressed as he flipped a small steak into the air and caught it on the spatula before setting it down on the grill like a sleeping baby.
If he heard her approach, he didn’t make any indication, and he didn’t turn around.
Mindy clasped her hands behind her, hoping she looked cute in her fluttery yellow dress.
“Smells great,” she said, her ears prickling the sound of sizzling meat.
“Mm-hmm,” Cameron said. “Tastes even better.”
Mindy took a step forward. “So, how’s your face? Better now?”
Cameron turned his head a little to the right, hiding the left side of his face.
“Mindy,” he said with a serious tone, “I need to tell you something. I wasn’t honest with you before.”
“About what?”
Cameron set down the spatula and tongs. “About my face. I...I didn’t have an allergic reaction to a bee sting.”
