Chapter 10 #2
“So, who is first and where are we putting it?” he asked, looking between us.
“Well, I’m the captain, so I guess I should lead by example. I’ll go first.” My heart fluttered inside my chest, and I started to lose my nerve. But then I remembered I was letting go of all this fear I had lived with for so long and was starting this new me with a tattoo.
“Where do you want it?” he asked.
I froze. I thought of the ladies at my church group.
Of my priest. Of my children. It was one thing to get a tattoo for myself, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to announce my newfound outlook to the world and explain it repeatedly.
If I got it on my arm, I’d have to wear long sleeves until I died.
On my ankle, I would have to wear socks even with my long skirts.
But then I realized—there was one place no one but Axel would ever see.
“My hiney,” I said.
The widows went silent. Rip choked on his sip of coffee.
“Your hiney, Doris?” Marge roared with laughter. “You’re getting an ass tat?”
“Yes! On my right cheek. It’s private! It’s for me and God and Axel. No one else will see it.”
Alice smirked. “Well, you and God and Axel and whoever is changing your diapers in twenty years!”
Rip roared with laughter. “Alright, Captain. Pull ’em down, keep the underwear on, pull it to the side, and kneel on the chair.”
I mustered up all the courage I had and walked to the chair, scootching down my slacks and pulling my floral-print panties aside so my cheek was exposed.
Maybe don’t watch this part, okay, God?
I gripped the back of the chair like a tiger holding its prey as Rip started to mark me. A scream ripped out of me as his needle dug into my skin, but when he asked if he should stop, I bit my lip, swallowed my tears, and shook my head.
“No. I can take it. Keep going.”
The widows cheered me on, holding my hands as I pushed through the pain.
“Almost done,” Rip finally said as I bit my lip so hard I almost cried out from that pain instead.
“You’re a machine!” Marge went nose to nose with me. “A bona fide warrior, Doris! Hold on, soldier! Hold on!”
“I can’t do this. I’m going to faint just watching.” Sylvie covered her eyes.
“Finished!” Rip stepped back, and I took my first true breath since the pain had started.
The widows all walked behind me, and heat rushed to my face as I glanced over my shoulder to see them all staring at my behind.
“Doris, you have a surprisingly toned tush.” Alice gave my hiney an appreciative nod. “And this tattoo looks… well, wonderful. Well done, Rip.”
He beamed.
“Honestly. It is really so much better than I thought.” Sylvie pursed her lips, nodding.
“Yeah? It looks good?”
I blushed deeper, wondering what Axel would think when he saw it. I hoped he would appreciate my new artwork.
Rip held up a mirror, and my eyes bulged as I saw my derriere staring back at me with the Wilder Widows crest stamped on it.
I gasped, covering my mouth. “Oh my. It’s… it’s a tattoo! A real one! On my hiney!”
“And?” Rip asked, and everyone held one collective breath.
Finally, I whispered, “I love it.” Then my voice rose. “I love it! Oh, it’s perfect, Rip! Perfect!”
Marge just grinned and gave me two huge thumbs-up, then shouted, “I’m next!”
I hopped off the chair, wincing from the discomfort that felt like a sunburn, and Marge pulled down her pants and jumped in the chair next.
“Right cheek! Gotta match, Doris!” She stuck her rear up for Rip to do his work.
When Rip started her tattoo, she shrugged it off, saying, “I was in ’Nam. I’ve had splinters that hurt worse than this.”
Of course, Rip had to hear everything, so as he branded her with our Wilder Widows mark, she told him everything from Vietnam to meeting me to our latest adventures that left her with a missing tooth.
“One hundred percent agree,” he said as he finished her ink. “The shark tooth would look amazing, Marge.”
She jutted a thumb over her shoulder, pointing at Rip. “See. Told you the shark tooth would look cool. Rip agrees.”
Alice rolled her eyes. “I’ll knock it right out of your face if you ever smile and it’s a shark tooth.”
Marge responded with a closed fist. “I’ll bop you right back.”
Alice pursed her lips. “You can’t. I have cancer.”
Marge’s mouth flew open with her gasp. “Did you just drop the cancer card on me?”
Alice grinned slyly. “Dropped.”
With a giant laugh, Marge wagged a finger at her. “Well played, Alice. Well played.”
After Marge was done, we dragged Sylvie into the chair.
“It’s going to hurt, isn’t it?” She slowly tugged down her pants.
“I thought it was nothing.” Marge shrugged, admiring her tattoo in the mirror.
“It wasn’t as bad as I expected, but it did sting a bit. Like a sunburn,” I said.
Sylvie screamed and swore at us through her entire procedure, but when Rip finished and she saw herself in the mirror, she couldn’t stop smiling.
“I have a tattoo! Oh my gosh, I did it! I got a tattoo!”
She got up, and Marge and I gave her a high five.
“Well?” Rip asked, gesturing to the chair. “Are you joining them?”
Alice dropped her pants without a word, her red thong causing us all to gawk as she strode confidently to the chair and got on her knees.
“Let ’er rip, Rip.”
She remained stoic through the process, only wincing a few times as Rip worked.
While the needle buzzed against her skin, she stared straight ahead.
“Cancer may think it’s in control of my body,” she said, her voice like iron, “but it’s not.
I am. And this tattoo will help me remember that.
Through this fight ahead, it will remind me of my strength even if…
” She paused, closing her eyes tight against a pain that wasn’t the needle carving her skin. “Even if they have to take my breasts.”
Rip looked up at her even though she was turned away, his kind brown eyes filled with sympathy.
“You know, my best friend had a double mastectomy. They couldn’t spare the nipples, so she came to me.
I did 3D nipple tattoos for her. They look amazing.
You can’t even tell. If they have to take your nipples, find someone to do it for you, or even better, come on back and I’ll do them myself. Free of charge, of course.”
The color drained out of Alice’s face. She went as white as the antiseptic wipes.
“Alice?” I leaned in. “Alice, you okay?”
“Nip... nip... what? They may take my… my… my nipples?” Alice stammered. Then her eyes rolled back.
“She’s going down! Man down!” Marge yelled.
“Alice!” Sylvie shrieked.
We caught her just as she slid off the chair. She went limp for a moment, her body cupped in our arms before she blinked rapidly.
Rip jumped up. “Oh crap! Sorry! I didn’t realize you didn’t know that was part of the deal. It’s not always! It depends on the situation. You may be able to keep your nips!”
We fanned her face with a tattoo magazine as she stared wordlessly at the ceiling for almost a minute.