Twenty-One
Twenty-One
“Sorry for shooting my mouth off just now, but I don’t put anything past him.”
You don’t put anything past him, including knocking a girl up? Reassuring.
“No problem, don’t worry about it.” I should stop staring at him, it’s really not polite, but all those tattoos are mesmerizing.
“That tiger looks great; does it have some meaning?” I ask, unable to keep my curiosity at bay.
I point to the left side of his head where the drawing starts, ending around the back of his neck.
“Of course. Every tattoo has a meaning. In the Chinese zodiac, the tiger embodies strength, power, and passion,” he explains as we pass a spotless counter with some sketchbooks, a laptop, and some binders on it.
“And why did you choose to put it there?” I glance around in search of Thomas, who appears to have vanished only to emerge from a storage room holding three cans of Sprite.
“It was the only open space left,” Ryan laughs, gesturing for me to sit on one of the couches in the middle of the room.
Thomas pops the three cans, hands one to me, and then starts chatting with Ryan as if their period of separation never happened.
They reminisce about the old days together; then Ryan tells us about how he’s putting some money aside because he’d like to open his own tattoo studio in California.
He acknowledges the opportunity that Thomas’s uncle gave him but believes that the time has come to spread his wings and fly.
As I drink my Sprite and listen to them talk, I notice how Ryan avoids asking about the real reason Thomas and I are here in town.
I’m sure he knows about Thomas’s father and his situation, and he probably doesn’t want to prod the wound.
After a while, I decide to leave them to their conversation and wander around the shop, examining every detail, from the adjustable bed covered with a disposable sheet of paper to the stainless-steel tray set up next to it with a tattoo gun and a few packages of needles.
I linger over the art on the walls. The more I look at them, the more familiar they seem.
Only after a few moments do I understand why…
Lotus flowers, a dragon shaped into an ouroboros, an hourglass wrapped in barbed wire…
they’re the same designs that Thomas has tattooed on himself.
These are his drawings. I smile to myself at the idea of his uncle putting them on display for the public. He has every reason to be proud.
I move at a snail’s pace, bewitched by the art surrounding me, until I find myself staring at a small display case full of piercing hardware of all varieties, small colorful gems, and leather bracelets.
My eyes land on the lightest one: strips of leather twisted around silver threads to form an elegant, delicate braid with a clear stone in the center.
“See something you like, Ness?” My boyfriend’s lips brush my cheek and make me shiver as he grabs my hips.
“More than one thing. In addition to this bracelet, I couldn’t help but admire all the designs.” I cast a glance around at the walls. “They’re your work, right?”
He studies them with a look that’s difficult to decipher, a mixture of discomfort and nostalgia. Then he nods.
“They’re beautiful, Thomas.” I put a hand on his chest as I turn toward him.
“They’re just drawings.”
“But they’re your drawings.”
He rolls his eyes, kisses my forehead, and tells me we can go.
“Don’t disappear again, you hear?” Ryan says to Thomas as we tell him goodbye before leaving the shop. “And give me a call if he isn’t treating you right,” he advises me in a good-natured sort of way as he shakes my hand. I smile, assuring him that I will.
As soon as the door closes behind us, Thomas realizes that he’s forgotten his cigarettes inside.
So, while he goes back for them, I wait outside for him.
As I let my eyes wander, I realize there’s a man nearby, fifties, with a goatee and a put-together vibe.
He’s leaning against a car door on the other side of the street with his arms and ankles crossed, and he’s looking in my direction.
Even though it’s dark, he’s wearing sunglasses, so I’m not sure if he’s looking at me, but he makes me uncomfortable either way.
I hug myself and glance around. It’s almost half past six, and there’s not much traffic on the road around here.
The stranger gives me a weak smile and waves a hand at me.
Yeah, he’s looking right at me. I watch as he crosses the street toward me.
Suddenly, a whole range of shiver-inducing scenarios start playing out in my head.
I step back until I reach the tattoo parlor’s door, running into Thomas’s chest as he emerges.
“Hey, Ness, what’s wrong? You’re pale.” He takes my face in his hands, examining me carefully.
“I–I don’t know. There’s this man who—” I try to explain, but I’m interrupted by the man’s voice.
“It’s my fault. I must have spooked her; I didn’t mean to.”
When Thomas raises his head, his face changes radically, turning hard. He lets out an exasperated sigh, and I hear him swear under his breath. “The fuck is this? A reunion?”
“What?” I murmur, unsettled and confused.
“It’s great to see you again too.”
I turn slowly to face the person who, up until just a few seconds ago, I thought was a creeper.
He puts his glasses on the top of his head and keeps talking.
“Your sister told me you’d be here today, but I wouldn’t have bet a single dollar on you coming back.
I’m impressed.” The man shifts his gaze to me and smiles.
“My apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten you.
I’m Robert, this troublemaker’s uncle. But you can just call me Rob.
You’re Vanessa, right? My niece told me a lot about you. ”
Oh. His uncle. This is Thomas’s uncle. The owner of the shop I was attempting to take refuge in. I give him an embarrassed smile.
“Yes, I’m Vanessa.”
Rob steps forward and shakes my hand with a smile. I shake in return, and I have to admit that I’m starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. In the space of just a few hours, I’ve already met three different people who each, in one way or another, represent an important part of Thomas’s life.
With both of his hands clasped around mine, he looks me in the eye and says seriously, “Thank you for all you’ve done.”
“What…what did I do?”
“I know perfectly well that if my nephew is here today, you are the person that I have to thank.”
“Can we cut the shit?” Thomas breaks in, giving him a sharp look. He pulls a cigarette from the pack and brings it to his mouth, frowning. “What are you doing here?”
They stare at each other a long moment. Then, Robert raises both hands. “Came to see my nephew, didn’t I? I knew you’d come find Ryan. You look good,” he notes, patting him on the shoulder.
Thomas snorts. “If you say so…” he mutters, cigarette clenched between his teeth.
“Were you headed somewhere? Can I get you a drink? There’s a bar around the corner,” his uncle suggests.
“No, we’re busy,” Thomas says shortly, and I give him a glare.
But his uncle seems used to his disposition and doesn’t appear to pay it any mind.
In fact, he seems to have expected it. I’d always imagined, from the few stories that Thomas told me, that his uncle was something like a mentor to him.
Yet, Thomas seems irritated by his presence now.
Though, not to the point of just walking away and leaving him here as he would have under different circumstances.
“Thank you, maybe some other time,” I answer politely.
He smiles at me, nodding, and then shifts his gaze to Thomas. “So…have you already been by to see your mother?”
Thomas shakes his head, looking at an undefined point to his right while exhaling cigarette smoke.
“Are you going to go?” his uncle asks him with a grave look.
“That’s what I’m here for, right?” my boyfriend mutters, putting out his cigarette under his heel.
Not feeling the need to say anything else, his uncle approaches him and pats him on the shoulder again. “Everything will be fine, don’t worry.”
“Yeah, all great,” he answers angrily, grabbing my hand. “Come on, let’s go.”
Robert steps back to let us pass, but just after we say goodbye and leave him behind, he calls us back. “Thomas, wait!”
We turn around.
“Don’t you want to know which hospital he’s in?”
I feel Thomas’s hand squeezing mine, hard enough to make me squirm a little. When he notices that, he drops my hand immediately. He moves slowly toward his uncle, seeing red. “Are you joking?”
“Thomas…with the state he’s in, there’s a good chance he’s never leaving that hospital.”
“And you know how much I fucking care!” he rants.
Some passersby on the sidewalks turn to look at us.
Robert squeezes his arm tightly, as if to communicate to him that he’s trying to tell Thomas something particularly important and he needs to listen.
“Has it ever occurred to you that it could be good for you? Not for him—screw that bastard—but for yourself? To free yourself from the weight of all that—”
“How dare you come here and say that to me,” he interrupts, jabbing a finger at him. “That weight you’re talking about isn’t going to go away if I have a heart-to-heart with that son of a bitch. Save the feel-good speeches for my sister, not me!”
For a moment, we all just stare at each other in silence.
Robert shakes his head, and I spot a glimmer of regret in his eyes. “Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think that, after what I found out, I don’t want to—”