Chapter 37
My phone vibrates in my palm. I look down and click on the text that just came in.
“What are you grinning about?” Tai asks as he flicks his gaze toward me before promptly returning his attention to the road, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel.
I look up at him, the joy inside pulling my lips in a wide arc, my eyes crinkling with my happiness. “Oh, you know. Just the fact that your mom loves me.” I dance the phone in the air between us. “I have proof.”
“Do I even want to ask?”
I pull the phone back toward me. “This is the fourth article she’s sent me on cortisol levels and their correlation to hair loss. Hayley told me your mom’s love language is an abundance of unsolicited medical advice, so the evidence suggests your mom is head over heels for me.”
Tai takes one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze my knee. “Is this where I tell you I knew my parents would love you?”
“No one likes a know-it-all.”
He laughs and returns his grip to the steering wheel, changing lanes. “What about me? Do I need to be worried about your grandparents’ first impression of me? Will they jump to any conclusions because of my tattoos?”
“Oh, most definitely.”
Tai blanches, and it’s hard to swallow the giggle bubbling up in my throat. I school my features, going for a deadpan look. “Especially since you’ve so obviously led me down the path of iniquity with you.”
Tai glances at me again, and this time he must see something on my face that gives me away because he visibly starts to relax, the color returning to his cheeks.
“Make fun all you want. I don’t usually care if people judge me rashly because of what I do or my own body art, but your grandparents are different. ”
I pat his leg. “What was it you told me? They’ll love you because I love you.”
He lets one of his hands fall and squeezes my fingers that cover his thigh. We drive like that in silence for a few minutes before he speaks again. “What do you think they’ll say about your tattoo?”
“Honestly? I’m not sure. They’ve been surprising me lately—like with Grampie’s new macabre hobby—so anything is possible, I guess.”
“And you? No regrets?”
There’s a vulnerability in his tone. He’d spent hours designing and redesigning the piece, wanting to make it perfect for me.
And it is. Absolutely perfect.
Intricate and delicate fine lines weave in a pleasing pattern over the crown of my head, dipping down like a jeweled widow’s peak across my would-be hairline.
The head of a mythical, majestic phoenix perches over the top of one ear, its fiery feathers curving along the base of my skull, evaporating into a garden of flowers: peonies, daisies, and—my favorite—an exact replica of the rose that decorates the side of Tai’s own neck.
The same lines and rich tones that have mesmerized me since the first time I ever laid eyes on them.
I’d cried when I saw my reflection in the mirror when Tai had finished the tattoo.
I’d never told him my thoughts of the phoenix, how I could relate to the symbolism of regeneration and resilience.
Looking at myself with Tai’s art marked into my skin, it was like I was able to see myself through his eyes for the first time.
I felt stronger and more empowered than maybe I had felt in my whole life.
I felt—feel—loved.
“Absolutely zero regrets.”
Tai’s throat bobs. This whole experience has been a bit emotional for the both of us.
“That’s good,” he says, his voice thick.
My phone buzzes again, this time with an incoming call. Penelope’s name flashes on the screen. I tap the green accept icon. “Hello, Penelope. Before you start to freak out, yes, we’re almost there.”
“And you remembered the backdrop with Granny and Grampie’s letters displayed? And the personalized stationery we’re using in lieu of a guestbook, along with the keepsake box to keep the letters in? Oh, and you didn’t forget your vintage typewriter, did you? We need that as decoration for the—”
“Penelope, stop. I have everything. I had it the first time you texted a reminder. I had it the fifth time you texted a reminder. I have it now. Stop stressing.”
“Right. Sorry. It’s just, it’s Granny and Grampie, you know? I want the party to be perfect for them.”
“I know, and it will be.”
She takes a deep breath. “How far out did you say you were?”
I scan out the window, noticing certain landmarks. “We should be there in about ten minutes.”
“Okay, good. Ten minutes is good.”
“Try not to have an aneurysm before then.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll try,” she says way too seriously before hanging up.
“Your sister’s stressed?” Tai flicks on the blinker and merges onto the exit ramp.
“That’s an understatement.” We’ve been working on this party for months, though. Nothing is going to detract from our grandparents’ big day.
A realization bolts into my mind, echoing in my ears like thunder. “Oh no!”
“What? What is it?” Tai shoots a quick look at my face, the car decelerating. My outburst must have made him lift his foot off the gas pedal.
I slump down in the passenger seat. “It’s my grandparents’ big day.”
“And . . .”
I straighten. “And I’m showing up like this.” All ten of my fingers point to the artwork covering the curves of my head. “It’s like someone proposing at their friend’s wedding, stealing the attention when everyone should be celebrating the newlyweds.”
What was I thinking? My grandparents’ anniversary party isn’t the time or place to step out of the shadows.
The spotlight should be on them. If I arrive without a wig, without trying my hardest to blend in and not make a statement, everyone’s going to be talking about me instead of focusing on Granny and Grampie’s epic love story.
But I didn’t bring a wig with me. Or a scarf. I have no way to cover up. Maybe Penelope—
“Or, and hear me out here—” Tai interrupts my downward spiral. “They love you so much that the greatest gift you could give them is by being your true, authentic self.”
I try and slow my stampeding thoughts long enough to consider what he’s saying. It’s . . . possible.
He pulls the car along the curve and puts the car into park.
Either way, we’re here. There’s no turning back now. Both Tai and I exit the car and round toward the trunk where the party supplies are. The slap of a storm door echoes in the background.
“Good. You’re here.” Penelope scurries across the street in four-inch heels. She stops beside me, her gaze running over me from head to toe with the speed of a flip-book. I’m sure she’s reading me just as quickly and easily as well.
“First off, love this.” She sweeps her hands through the air in front of me.
“You look amazing, that tat is epic, and I am one hundred percent here for it.” She reaches into the trunk and lifts out the ancient typewriter I bought at an estate sale last year.
“But gushing is going to have to wait because Granny and Grampie will be here soon and we still need to finish setting up.”
I grab the custom-made backdrop that’s rolled protectively in a cardboard tube, then hurry after Penelope. She’s almost to the front door by the time I catch her. “How’d you get them out of the house?” I ask, a little out of breath.
Her hand pauses for the briefest of moments as she’s reaching for the door handle. So briefly, in fact, that I wonder if I imagine the momentary delay.
“They’re with Brett and his family.”
Nope, not my imagination. She’d flinched on my account.
“Brett and his fiancée got a puppy. His grandparents had offered to be the diversion to get Granny and Grampie out of the house, and I guess they figured a new puppy was a good lure.”
I take in the information and wait for the familiar feelings of loss and worthlessness to grip me, but nothing happens.
There’s no anchor tied to my emotions at the news, nothing pulling me down and threatening to drown me.
Instead, I feel relief. I know I’m not going to be able to avoid Brett entirely, but I feel like some cosmic judge has granted me a reprieve.
Tai has caught up to us by this point, his arms full of the stationery, quills, and letterbox for guests to write notes for our grandparents.
My sister directs him to the small desk and chair she’s set in the corner of the backyard near the house while I find the area we’d agreed the backdrop of their love letters would go.
People have already started to arrive. Some help with last-minute details while others mill around, waiting for my grandparents to arrive and the party to officially begin.
Most of the faces are familiar. I notice the pastor and his wife from my grandparents’ church.
Then there’s Grampie’s old coworker at the advertising agency he worked at for over thirty years.
“I love your new artwork, Evangeline,” a familiar voice says from my right.
I finish securing the corner of the backdrop to the tall privacy fence, then turn to Nanette, Granny’s scrapbooking buddy.
The three of us used to pour over pictures, stickers, and fun background paper to make our memory books.
Nanette moved to Memphis about five years ago when her husband’s job transferred him.
I move to give her a hug, her scent of honeysuckles bringing back waves of memories. “It’s good to see you again.”
She squeezes me in return. “You too. And this—” She leans back to look at me. “Girl, you’re on fire.”
I open my mouth to demure but am interrupted by a voice behind me.
“She’s right. You’re making a statement, and I love what I’m hearing.” A woman who looks familiar but whom I can’t place steps beside Nanette. “It must have hurt a lot though, huh?”
“They’re here!” Penelope whisper-shouts from the French doors leading into the house. “Everyone quiet!” She steps into the house and shuts the doors behind her, pulling the curtains closed.