18. Sean
EIGHTEEN
sean
21 YEARS OLD
BLAIR (20 YEARS OLD)
My grandda didn’t like company.
He’d become a recluse after losing the one person who kept him sane and everyone respected his wishes to be alone.
Even today, the day after graduating from NYU on my twenty-first birthday, only I came up to Ithaca to see him.
“I’m sad I couldn’t come with,” Blair said softly into the phone, one eye in the camera as she laid in my bed where I left her.
“Next time.”
There probably wouldn’t be a next time, but I wouldn’t tell her that.
“Sounds like there won’t be one,” she surmised, lifting from the bed with the camera lowered enough for me to see she was still shirtless.
I tipped my head while she stretched, liking the view.
“You know, I love you, right?” I found myself asking as she brought the camera to her face. “I don’t even want to go inside cause it means not talking to you for a few hours.”
And because going inside meant reliving a part of my life I hated thinking of.
“I know you do, little deer. What’s wrong? You seem hesitant.”
Sometimes I forget how easily she could read me.
But thankfully, the Irishman I had for a grandfather got tired of me idling in my truck without entering and came to get me.
He stood at six-foot-six like my da and uncle, but instead of their deep brown skin, his was pale. We all shared his light brown eyes and some variation of his solid build.
Instead of the slacks and partially unbuttoned dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up I’d grown used to, he wore dark wash blue jeans, work boots and no fucking shirt.
Sixty-one looked good on him.
“Ah, looks like the old man is over waiting,” I mused with a chuckle. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Okay, I love you.”
I tapped the end button after returning the sentiment, left it against the dashboard and got out.
Phones weren’t allowed on the ranch.
“Duine éigin tábhachtach?” he asked as I approached, forgoing a greeting to get in my business. Someone important?
For a second, I hesitated mentioning anything about Blair and what she meant to me, but lying didn’t feel right.
I watched my grandmother die, and he lost his wife but I wouldn’t hide my person because of it.
“A ghrá mo shaol.” The love of my life.
He nodded and turned, the large deer tattoo on his back still crisp and clean as the first time I’d seen it.
“You should’ve brought her,” he said, leading me around the main house to the back where he’d set up for our ink session.
Today my grandda would tattoo me with the same ink he and my da shared—the ink my great grandfather had worn too.
“And upset your namesake? Nah,” I said with a little scoff as I pulled my shirt over my head. “He pretends to be okay with this arrangement but I can tell he misses you.”
It wasn’t until we were settled and the buzz of his tattoo gun filled the space between us, he replied.
“My sons know they can see me when they please,” he said. “Eoghan came up last week. Your da two weeks before that.”
Mmm.
“News to me.”
The needle touched my skin, reminding me of how much I liked pain.
“Some things aren’t meant for you to know right away.”
I kept quiet, head in my arms and eyes shut.
There was always a lesson in shit he said. I learned early on it was better to listen and absorb. Eventually, whatever he wanted to get across would come to you naturally.
“What’s the girl’s name?” he asked, shifting topics.
Or… maybe not.
“Blair Amoy Phillips.”
Her named rolled off the tongue with feelings attached as always. Even I could hear how much I loved her in the way I said it.
There wasn’t just one thing about Blair that won my heart, it was everything —a accumulation of everything .
“The daughter of the pastor.”
It wasn’t a question and I didn’t respond.
“You should come back,” I said instead. “My da told us you got ordained. I can give you a church.”
The ranch had always been a quiet place for him, just nature and the horses he kept. But I knew he missed the city and only needed one good reason to come back and be with us.
But he lifted the needle from my skin when I said it, his answer evident to me even before he spoke.
“I feel her out here,” he murmured, continuing on with my tattoo like he hadn’t meant to stop. “Wherever she is, is where I want to be. Do you feel that way for Blair?”
There was no doubt in my mind about it.
“Yeah, I do.”
He hummed.
“Protect that feeling, never let anything or anyone take it away from you.”
“Do you have regrets?”
“None,” he said without pause. “I knew what I signed up for and so had your mhaimeó. We kept our promise to one another. I’m here and she keeps me company.”
There was a lot I wanted to know but chose to keep quiet and let him work.
We sat like that for two hours before he stood and said, “You’ll need two more sessions to fill it in.”
Coming back wasn’t part of the plan but something about the way he said it gave me pause.
What was supposed to be one session, had now turned into three.
“You want me to come back?” I asked, frowning.
He began to clean and cover my back.
“That’s what you heard, right?”
I nodded. “When?”
Over my shoulder, I caught his lips lifting a little—same as my da when he was amused or satisfied with something one of us had done.
“Whenever you need to see me again,” he said.
Whenever I needed to see him again.
He didn’t want me to come back right away.
“Understood.”
I slipped into my t-shirt and watched him collect his stuff from the makeshift station. Still trying to understand what he wanted to convey.
“Bring those chairs in,” he ordered. “And stay for dinner. I’m sure Blair won’t mind.”
The teasing lilt in his tone made me smile.
“That mean you want me to bring her next time?” I asked as we entered through the back door into the kitchen. “Not sure if that was an actual invite earlier.”
Our eyes met before he replied.
“Should I not meet the love of my grandson’s life before inking him completely?”
I searched his eyes but got nothing.
“But only when I need to come back?”
The expression in his gaze changed, only for a split second, but it was enough time for me to understand a little more.
He felt like he owed me for helping him identify the man who pulled the trigger. For not shutting down. For getting my hands dirty at thirteen. For catching my first body.
The many “firsts” I had that year were a mile long and then I met her . Blair helped me forget when it mattered.
“Beidh a fhios agat nuair a bheidh tú ag teastáil uaim,” my grandda said, turning toward the fridge. You’ll know when you need me.
I hummed.
“Don’t die on me before I cash in on that.”
His laughter was hearty, a deep rumble that reminded me of my childhood.
“Can’t make any guarantees but I’ll try my best.”
His best was good enough for me.