Chapter 7
TANIA
Carlo and I fall into a rhythm over the two weeks I’ve now stayed with him.
There has been zero luck finding a new apartment, but I don’t get the sense he is in a hurry for me to leave.
Whether I actually want to leave is equally uncertain.
I am always up first to get coffee going for us and feed the cats, then shower and everything before he needs the bathroom.
Some days we carpool to work, and no one blinks an eye at us arriving together.
We take turns picking up groceries and cooking dinner.
He makes the most phenomenal Salvadoran food for me, and his mom drops off food as well.
She could not possibly be less subtle in her glee that I’m living with her son, and has made it clear she wants to pamper us a little.
In her exact words, she wants this roommate situation to be as easy and stress free as possible, so of course she wants to save us from cooking.
I’m not as adept as them in the kitchen, but I try to contribute my share with the easier pasta recipes and chicken dishes I’ve learned.
There’s only one dish I’ve learned that my grandmother used to make, always telling me how it was my parents’ favorite.
Classic garlic shrimp served with fragrantly spiced rice was what they all made when they wanted to feel a little fancy at home.
I decide that tomorrow night I’m going to stop at the store to get the shrimp and a few other things I’ll need to surprise him with a nice dinner.
He really is the most incredible roommate.
There aren’t water glasses or dirty clothes everywhere, he keeps the toilet seat down (well trained by his sisters, he told me), and even has no problem throwing my clothes in with his if he’s running a load of laundry.
After dinner on the nights we are both home, we hang out and just chat about dumb things we like and don’t like while we watch TV.
As adventurous as he is, he’s petrified of snakes because, “the way they move freaks me the hell out,” to quote him.
He also doesn’t like the texture of tofu, which he found out when he started to make an effort to eat less meat.
I tell him how I could happily live on pasta but am completely grossed out by any kind of organ meat, along with bugs.
He lives for summer, I love fall. He likes a side of adventure when he travels, and did a bunch of trips while “he was still young,” and living with his parents in his early twenties.
Bungee jumping off of the Europabrucke bridge in Austria is one of the highlights of his life.
I like chilling on the beach with a book.
We’re so different, and yet I can’t help seeing how well we complement each other.
When we’re getting dinner ready or cleaning up, we move around the kitchen together effortlessly.
His teasing and joking has brought out my more goofy side that I generally don’t show too much.
He seems more settled, less full of restless energy with me.
Our glances are becoming more lingering and our touches more natural.
There’s always been an attraction between us, but this is more.
I’m beginning to like him as a person so damn much, he’s one of the best men I’ve ever met.
It’s scary as hell. I don’t know what to do about it considering I had my shot already, stupidly turned him down, and I’m sure he’s written me off in order to move on.
There is also still the issue of my serious reservations about getting involved with a coworker.
My mind drifts to Celeste. She’s been able to call a few times since I visited her and sounds ok.
I need to go visit again soon, but I also want to have something concrete to show her, to give her hope.
I haven’t been able to find a lawyer that will do pro bono work, or at least be somewhat affordable if I drain my meager savings.
Of course she’ll still hear nothing about me trying to find her help on our calls, telling me to stop worrying about it.
I’m being selfish, I know she doesn’t want to hear it and I keep pushing.
The injustice of her sentence won’t allow me to let it go, unfortunately.
My sister has been through enough and she doesn’t deserve this.
I have to put all of that aside for now and get my head right for my apprenticeship at the tattoo parlor tonight.
I quickly changed at work and came right here, stopping for a chicken caesar wrap on the way.
Living Arts Tattoo is about 30 minutes from work, so it’s not a bad commute.
Most importantly, I really like it here.
The owner, Brian, has been happy with how my skills are coming along.
Ray and Diego both go here and love the shop, so when I decided to bite the bullet and apprentice 6 months ago, this was the first place I approached.
He really liked my art portfolio, and said I have a whole lot of potential.
The apprenticeship is only to teach how to tattoo and get certified, not teach how to draw, so the portfolio had to show him I have the chops to draw whatever someone wants.
I dipped into my savings to pay the fee, and that was it.
He put me to work watching, listening, and learning every single thing about the sanitation and safety aspect.
Then I graduated to learning how to make the needles, use the autoclave, and finally got to start using the actual tattoo machine.
I’ve tattooed a whole lot of fruit skin at this point.
I walk into the shop to find Brian’s wife, Molly, at the front counter.
I can see Brian in back with a client, along with one of the other artists, Mike, who looks like he’s wrapping it up right now.
He is Brian’s cousin, and I love that it’s very much a family business.
Molly knows how to tattoo as well, but she mostly concentrates on keeping the books and handling the appointment calendar now.
Her recent rheumatoid arthritis diagnosis makes it too difficult on her joints to bend down and work the machine for any length of time anymore.
She greets me with a big smile, the weathered lines of her face crinkling.
Her wild, frizzy hair is almost completely gray and pulled up into a messy top knot that is already askew with strands flying around her face.
Her loose, gauzy tunic billows as she raises her arm to wave at me, bangles clanging on her wrist as she does. She’s my favorite witchy woman.
“Hi, Tania,” she calls in her wispy rasp of a voice.
“Hey, Molly! How’s it going here today?”
“Busy, and we love it. Brian is almost done with Matty’s piece, but why don’t you go back and watch how he shades.” I thank her and head into the back, where Brian is shading in a massive skull with a snake slithering through the eyes on the dude’s pec.
“Hey, kid,” Brian says in his gruff voice.
If Molly is the witchy woman, Brian is the grizzly bear.
He’s the definition of big and burly, with slicked back black hair that has plenty of gray streaking through, and a bushy beard that makes him look like a mountain man.
Every inch of his skin is tattooed except for his face.
“Hey, yourself. This looks so fantastic. I love how you did the scales on the snake.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you’re here to see some more shading.” Then he turns to his client. “Matty, this is my apprentice Tania. Ok if she observes while I finish your piece?”
“Sure!” Matty gives me a slow perusal and smiles at me. He’s good looking, older than me but not by much. I feel nothing under his attention, though. “She can observe me as much as she wants,” he goes on.
“It’s Brian’s technique I’ll be observing, not you,” I tell him sweetly.
“What about later? Doing anything?”
“Matty, stop hitting on my apprentice who is clearly not interested, or I’ll make this snake look like a pretty basket.” Brian’s tone is dry, almost amused, but still clearly a warning. He must know this guy for him to talk to him like that. Matty rolls his eyes.
“No harm in trying, Uncle Bri. How’d you get someone to want to apprentice with your sorry ass, anyway?”
“Shut up and let me focus on finishing.” I can tell their back and forth is teasing and familiar.
Brian talks me through how he is shading the snake, how much pressure to use to get the desired lightness or darkness.
The scales of the snake almost come to life under his hand, with the differences in shading making it seem like light is dancing off of them.
He reiterates his lesson that using a circular motion is more gentle than going back and forth.
When he’s finished, Matty thanks him with a backslap, gives me a cheeky wink, and gives Molly a smacking kiss on the cheek goodbye.
“So that’s your nephew?” I turn to Brian with a tilt of my head as he cleans his station.
“Known him his whole life, his dad and I are best friends. He’s my annoying but lovable nephew in every way but blood.” I nod, smiling at how much shit they talked to each other while Matty was in the chair. He jerks his head at me.
“Your line work is really getting good. Today I want you to grab those oranges and work on shading in the lines you’ve done, just like I showed you on Matty.
” I salute him and get to work. After a few hours my wrist is starting to cramp, but I shake it out.
Brian comes over to inspect my work and he nods appreciatively.
“The pressure you’re using is looking good, you’ve got a knack for this.” From him, that’s practically falling at my feet with praise, and I smile hugely.
“Glad you took me on?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he teases. Then he stretches and yawns. “Ok, kid, I think we’re done for the day. See you Thursday, yeah?”
“I’ll be here. Thanks again, Brian.”
“You bet.”