Thirty #3
I read the departing flights board and see a number of exotic destinations where it would be easy to leave it all behind.
I see the names of several other U.S. cities and then…
Of course, Vancouver! Alex and Stella must be back in Vancouver by now after their trip to New York.
There’s no direct flight, but with a short layover in Seattle, I could be there in five hours.
Before we parted, Alex promised me that I could reach out to him whenever I wanted.
And, right now, Alex seems like the closest thing to family that I’ve got.
I call him and tell him somewhat confusedly that the meeting with my father went badly and that I really don’t want to go back to Corvallis.
Before I even have a chance to ask, he’s booking a last-minute plane ticket for me.
Not to Vancouver, like I was expecting, but to Phoenix, Arizona, where Stella’s grandparents live.
When the loudspeakers announce that my gate is open, I get in line with my stomach still roiling, my heart torn into pieces, and the sad realization that I’ve finally found the answers that I’ve been looking for all these years.
***
Time’s up here in Phoenix after three weeks.
Tomorrow, Alex and I are taking a flight back to school.
I don’t know if I’m really ready. The first few days here were a parade of depression, pain, new anxiety attacks, and sheer confusion.
I suddenly felt like I no longer belonged to anyone.
Like the family that raised me had been snatched right out of my hands, forever. I felt alone, truly alone.
My thoughts often returned to Thomas. The most self-destructive part of me kept insisting that, despite everything, he was the only person I really wanted to be with at this moment.
But I stayed strong. I resisted the urge to call him again.
I forced myself to remember that, if I was making a list of people who have disappointed, wounded, and betrayed me, he would be right at the top, and for that exact reason, he can never come back into my life again.
Alex, Stella, and her entire family have been so wonderful to me.
I probably wouldn’t have made it without them.
They stood by me, welcoming me unreservedly, but they also knew how to accommodate my need to be alone when I chose to stay up in my room.
Even Tiffany did everything she could to help me through this hard time via phone calls and video chats.
Maybe it was their love, the knowledge that I wasn’t really as alone as I feared, or maybe it was the approaching new year and all that comes with it.
Either way, after those first days when I felt drained of all feeling, I started to realize that I had to take my life back.
It wouldn’t be easy, but I owed it to myself.
So I steeled myself and began to fight a little more each day until, eventually, I found myself watching a movie with Alex and Stella, laughing and joking in what was a real moment of lightheartedness.
It was the same lightheartedness that I felt during a family Christmas dinner at Stella’s grandparents’ house, or when Stella and I spent a whole afternoon working out with a punching bag.
I was shocked at just how much built-up tension I was able to release. It was exactly what I needed.
Today, for our last day in Phoenix, we’ve decided to walk around the downtown area, which is full of stands offering just about everything: food, clothing, antique furniture, even a body-painting station. But it’s the stand set up for tattoos that catches my eye.
I stop, charmed by the designs with thin elegant lines as well as the ones in the old-school style. Enthralled, I say instinctively, “I want one.”
“You want what?” Alex asks, giving me the same gobsmacked expression as he did when he first saw my new haircut.
“A tattoo,” I say again, more decisively. Seeing his uncertain face, however, I begin to question my choice. “Is that crazy?”
“Not at all,” Stella answers for her boyfriend. “You know what they say, don’t you? ‘A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men.’”
“Oh God,” Alex says, rolling his eyes. “Ever since we watched Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory , she’s been obsessed with Willy Wonka.”
“He’s a marvelous character!” I exclaim.
“He’s a crazy person,” Alex says.
“Still marvelous, though,” I answer him with a smirk.
“So a tattoo?” Alex says, getting back on topic.
I nod.
“And what if you regret it?”
“That’s not going to happen. Listen, this is our last day of break, and I know when we go back to Corvallis tomorrow, I’m going to have deal with everything I left behind because all my problems are still there. But right now I feel so good, and I want to remember this feeling forever.”
“Come on, don’t be a wet blanket, Alex!” Stella echoes, grabbing his arm and shaking it a little bit.
“Okay, okay, I’m done,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “After all, you have to screw up sooner or later.” He claps his hand on my head, messing up my hair in the way he always does, then nudges me toward the stand.
We examine the drawings on display. I ask about their meanings, but in the end, I let my instinct guide me to a drawing of a rose with all its thorns. It’s the mixture of passion and torment, the tattoo artist explains to me, because, sooner or later, lovers always suffer.
“Where do you want it?” the tattoo artist asks me, after letting me into the chamber next to the stand, where there’s a bed covered in sterile paper and all the necessary supplies. Alex and Stella have to wait outside for reasons of hygiene.
“Honestly, I haven’t thought about it yet. Any advice?” I take off my coat and lay it on a chair while he arranges everything he needs on a tray next to the bed and slightly personalizes the design. The tattoo artist examines me closely. I don’t see any leering, just professionalism.
“You’ve got a good body. We could really do it anywhere. A lot of people have been getting them between their breasts lately, but it’s pretty painful. Since this is your first time, I don’t recommend that.”
“That’s where I want it,” I say decisively. Pain doesn’t scare me anymore.
“All right, then. Come on up.” He pulls on his sterile gloves, inserts ink into the gun, and sets it on the steel tray.
In the meantime, I take off my shirt and then, with some hesitation, my bra. I make certain to cover my breasts with my hands, and I admit I’m feeling a little uncomfortable. But he doesn’t even look at me, too busy arranging his tools. This calms me down.
I lie down on the bed, and we decide together exactly how high to put the tattoo.
Once we’ve made a decision, the artist wipes the area with some disinfectant and goes over it with a disposable razor in preparation.
I just stare up at the ceiling until the only thing I can hear is the hum of the gun as it approaches my chest.
Once the tattoo is done, I admire myself in the mirror, feeling something I’ve never felt before. He was right, it did hurt, but to my enormous surprise, I got through it. And it was worth the pain because it’s beautiful.
The slender stem of the rose, covered in thorns, trails down my sternum while the petals are nestled in my cleavage, just high enough for them to peek out from my neckline.
Good grief, I can’t believe I just did it.
Even just a few months ago, this would have been impossible to imagine.
And now I have a tattoo. I smile at myself in the mirror like an idiot.
“Satisfied?” the tattoo artist breaks in.
“Absolutely!”
“Good, would have been a problem otherwise.” He grins, proud of his work.
Before he lets me go, he gives me some salve, the same kind he applied to the tattoo a little while ago, covering it immediately after with a clear film.
Then he tells me how to take care of it in the next few days.
I take note of everything, pay him, and tell him again how much I like it.
I walk out of the little chamber with a toothy grin on my face.
I immediately give Alex and Stella a peek, careful not to move the film around too much.
Seeing the looks of surprise and approval they give me, I’m even happier with my choice.
“Your new era has begun, girl!” Stella says conspiratorially.
***
When I wake up the next morning, the magic spell is over.
Alex and I are back home, both of our morales low but each for different reasons.
He’s already missing Stella while I’m longing for the rare peace I managed to find far away from Corvallis.
Far away from my mother. But more than anything else, far away from him…
Thomas.
Winter break is over. Classes start back up tomorrow.
And I’m going to see him again. I know I have to stay strong, though.
Thoughts of Thomas have haunted me these past few weeks, it’s true.
But the more days went by, the more I’ve learned to manage it.
I’ve learned how to keep him out of my head and out of my heart.
And I’ve been working on myself. On my weaknesses, my insecurities.
I started atoning for all my mistakes. Because I was well aware that I made a lot of them.
I’ve learned to welcome the hurt, to accept it, and, finally, to get past it.
Now that my whole life has been called into question and everything I thought I knew has crumbled like a sandcastle, I actually feel stronger.
More secure. So yeah, I can do this. If I can give up the idea of my father, if I can cut off my mother, then I can also share spaces with Thomas.
Walk down the same hallways. This time, I won’t be affected.
I won’t be moved. He no longer has any power over me.
I said these words to myself over and over again on the plane and then in the Uber on my way back to Howell Hall.
I spent the evening mentally preparing myself, organizing my books and notebooks, choosing just the right outfit.
I continued to tell myself that he has no power over me even as I was lying in bed. I let the mantra lull me to sleep.
And I’ve continued to repeat it to myself for about a quarter of an hour as I stare petrified at the open expanse of the university campus, surrounded by a horde of students all over the lawns.
But then I feel it, right behind my back.
The roar of a motorcycle drowns out all the other noise and raises goose bumps on my skin.
I can feel it vibrating all the way down to my bones. Like it’s calling out for me.
And I know, I know exactly who that roar belongs to.
I know because, suddenly, every inch of earth under my feet starts to tremble. Every form of thought flees my mind. My heart bursts in my chest, and my throat is as dry as the Sahara desert.
It’s a reckoning; it’s a damnation. Thomas is here.
And I can’t keep running away.