46. （SOFT）en
JAE
46
Ishowed up at Jennifer’s house in New Jersey feeling like I was walking into an ambush.
Jennifer greeted me at the door with a knowing look in her sharp eyes. “Hello, Jae,” she said, her tone neutral yet welcoming. “Follow me.”
She led me through the cozy living room filled with family photos, mismatched furniture, and the scent of freshly baked cookies. The walls were adorned with eclectic art and trinkets from her travels. I half expected her to hand me an apron and put me to work in the kitchen, as she had done so many times before. Instead, she showed me to a small room in the back of the house where an air mattress was set up on the floor, neatly made with a set of floral sheets.
“Here you go,” she said, patting the mattress. “Home sweet home.”
Before I could respond, Auntie’s voice rang out from the next room. “Hello, darling! We’re getting tattoos today.”
I moved to see her, a frail but fiery figure, standing in the bedroom. “Auntie,” I started, my frustration bubbling over, “did you tell Verena to change my locks and log me out of everything? I can’t even access my bank account.”
She giggled, a sound that was both endearing and exasperating. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Now, did you hear me say we’re getting tattoos?”
“Wait,” I said, the absurdity of it catching up to me. “Did you say tattoos?”
“Yes, darling,” she replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I feel like it. My doctor said I can basically do whatever the hell I want to. So let’s go.”
“Auntie, this isn’t funny. I can’t get into my email, my accounts, anything. How am I supposed to work?” I demanded, running a hand through my hair in frustration.
“Work? Is that all you think about?” she shot back, crossing her arms over her chest. “You need to live a little, Jae. You’re wound tighter than a drum.”
“This is serious! I have responsibilities!” I argued, feeling my control slipping.
“And I have cancer,” she retorted, her tone suddenly fierce. “And right now, my responsibility is to make memories with my nephew. So, we’re getting tattoos.”
“You’re impossible,” I muttered, exasperated.
“And you’re stubborn,” she countered. “Now, are you coming, or do I have to drag you there myself?”
I sighed, realizing I was arguing with a woman who had always gotten her way, one way or another. “Fine. But if this is some elaborate prank?—”
“It’s not,” she said, cutting me off with a laugh. “I promise, you’ll enjoy it. Besides, when was the last time you did something spontaneous?”
I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it again. She had a point. I had been avoiding everything, burying myself in work to escape the reality of our situation.
“Alright, let’s go,” I said finally.
“That’s the spirit!” she cheered, linking her arm with mine. “Now, let’s get a move on. The tattoo artist won’t wait forever.”
As we walked out of her room and down the hallway, Auntie leaned on my arm, her steps slow but determined. “You know, Jae, you didn’t fail me,” she said softly.
“I feel like I did,” I admitted, my voice tight with emotion. “You were so excited about the wedding…”
“I’m using the centerpieces for my funeral,” she insisted.
“That’s so morbid.”
“That’s what Verena said,” she giggled.
“So you have talked to her.”
“Don’t change the subject. I was just giving you a little time to focus on something else. Putting something in your head before it got bad. Now, let’s go get matching tattoos.”
“You’re serious?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around the idea.
“Absolutely,” she replied without missing a beat.
“Really?”
She didn’t answer. This felt like more than just an outing with my aunt. This felt like goodbye.
“My car is still parked out front,” I said, guiding her carefully. “Auntie, wait, what is going on?”
“We’re facing this together, baby,” she said firmly.
“And what exactly are we facing, Auntie?” I choked out. “Tattoos?”
She looked at me with those wise eyes that always gave me grace. “The end, Jae. We’re going to face the end.”
We rode to the tattoo shop, and I was still bewildered, the events of the day swirling in my mind. On her phone, Auntie pulled up the design she wanted—a beautifully detailed illustration of the traditional Korean home where she and my father had grown up. Seeing it made my throat close up. The hanok, with its curved tiled roof and wooden beams, nestled in the serene countryside of Korea, was a place of memories and deep familial roots.
“I always want you to remember you have a home, Jae,” she said, her voice softening. “And it’s the people that make it, not the place.”
The tattoo artist looked up from her work, her eyes lighting up with recognition and warmth.
“Hello, Quincy Nichole,” Auntie said with a broad smile.
“Auntie!” Quincy exclaimed, stepping around the counter to give Auntie a warm hug. She was a striking figure, with her fiery red hair, multiple piercings, and sleeves of intricate tattoos that told stories in ink.
“You two know each other?” I asked, bewildered by the scene unfolding before me.
“Know each other?” Quincy laughed, pulling back from the hug but keeping a hand on Auntie’s shoulder. “We’re practically family now.”
Auntie nodded. “We’ve been emailing back and forth to select the design for months.”
“Months?” I echoed, the realization dawning on me. “This has been planned for weeks?”
“Of course, darling,” Auntie said, patting my hand. “You think I do anything on a whim? Where do you think you get your organizational skills from?”
Quincy grinned. “Auntie here has been very particular about every detail. We’ve exchanged so many emails I feel like we’re old friends.”
“It’s true,” Auntie confirmed. “I knew exactly what I wanted, and Quincy Nichole has been amazing. She’s an artist, Jae, not just a tattooist.”
Quincy rolled her eyes playfully. “Oh, stop it, you’re making me blush. Now, let’s get started, shall we?”
As Quincy prepared her equipment, Auntie and she continued to banter like old friends. “I hope you’re ready for some pain, Auntie,” Quincy teased. “This isn’t going to tickle.”
Auntie laughed, her voice strong and full of life. “Pain? Please, I’ve been through worse. Besides, it’s nothing compared to the joy of getting this tattoo with my favorite nephew.”
I watched them interact, my bewilderment giving way to a reluctant smile. It was so on-brand for Auntie to make friends with everyone she met, to turn even the most daunting experiences into something filled with warmth and laughter.
Quincy glanced at me. “So, you’re Jae, huh? Auntie’s told me all about you. Ready to get inked? My friend John is going to do yours. We have similar styles.”
John appeared, a tall, tattooed man with a bright smile. “I’ve been briefed on the design, and Quincy gave me very detailed demands.”
“As she should,” Auntie teased.
“Uh,” I said, still trying to process everything. “Let’s do this.”
We settled into the chairs, side by side. Quincy began working on Auntie first, her skilled hands moving with practiced ease. John glared at me, as if daring me to chicken out. “You know, Auntie has quite the eye for design,” she said, her voice carrying over the buzz of the tattoo machine. “She picked out this beautiful hanok. It’s going to look amazing.”
I felt my throat tighten. “Auntie, I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything,” she replied softly, her voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. “Just be here with me. That’s all I need.” She paused, her gaze growing distant for a moment before she continued. “I loved how peaceful the old home was. It was the kind of place where time slowed and you could just…settle. I want that for you, Jae.”
Her eyes were shining with both wisdom and a hint of sadness. “It doesn’t have to be a place, it can be a person. But when you look at it, I want you to remember that it’s okay to pause. To breathe. To find peace in the midst of everything.”
Her words hit me hard, the weight of them sinking deep into my soul. Auntie had always been my anchor, and now, even as she faced the end, she was trying to give me the guidance and solace I so desperately needed.
“Auntie…” I started, but my voice cracked, emotion overwhelming me.
She squeezed my hand again, a gentle, reassuring pressure. “You work so hard, Jae. You’ve built this incredible life, but don’t forget to live it. Don’t forget to find those moments of peace. Promise me you’ll try.”
I nodded, tears blurring my vision. “I promise, Auntie. I’ll try.”
Her smile was soft, filled with love and pride. “That’s all I ask. Just remember, it’s okay to pause and find your peace. You deserve that.”
As I sat there, holding her hand, I felt a profound sense of clarity wash over me. Auntie’s words were a reminder that no matter how chaotic life became, it was essential to find moments of tranquility and connection. And in that moment, I vowed to honor her wish, to seek out that peace, and to cherish the people who brought it into my life.
As Quincy and John worked, the buzz of the tattoo machines filled the small studio, a constant hum that seemed to sync with the rhythm of our conversation. Auntie and I began to reminisce, our words weaving a tapestry of memories that spanned decades.
“Do you remember the summer we spent at the hanok?” she asked, her eyes distant as she recalled the past. “You and your father would wake up early to help with the garden, while I made breakfast with your grandmother.”
I smiled, the warmth of the memory pushing back the present’s cold reality. “I remember. The air was always so fresh in the morning, and the birds…they sang the most beautiful songs.”
“And the apricot tree,” Auntie continued, her smile growing. “You used to climb it every day, even though you were terrified of heights. But you wanted those apricots more than anything.”
I laughed, the sound mingling with the hum of the tattoo machines. “Those apricots were worth the fear. They were the sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”
Her grip on my hand tightened, a silent agreement. “It was a simple life, but it was beautiful. Those days were filled with love and laughter.”
The pain of the tattoo was a sharp, burning sensation, but it paled in comparison to the warmth spreading through my chest from these shared memories. “I miss those times, Auntie,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “I miss how close we all were.”
“We still are, Jae,” she said gently. “Distance and time can’t change that. Family is always with you, in your heart, in your memories. This tattoo, it’s just a reminder of that.”
The artist paused to wipe away the excess ink, giving me a moment to breathe through the discomfort. Auntie’s eyes met mine again, filled with a mixture of love and determination. “You’re my greatest joy, Jae. I am so thankful I had the chance to raise you. I miss your parents every day, but I’ll always thank them for the beautiful gift they gave me. You.”
My eyes stung with unshed tears. “Thank you, Auntie. For everything.”
She smiled, a tear slipping down her own cheek. “Thank you, Jae, for being the amazing man you’ve become. Your father would be so proud.”
As Quincy resumed her work, Auntie and I continued to share stories, each one a thread in the fabric of our family’s history. We talked about the first time I rode a bike, the festivals we celebrated, the nights spent under a blanket of stars. Each memory was a balm to the pain, a reminder of the love that bound us together.
And in that small studio, amidst the hum of the tattoo machine and the scent of antiseptic, I felt a profound connection to my past, to my family, to the roots that held me firm even as life pulled me in different directions.
“Done,” John finally announced, stepping back to admire his work. “What do you think?”
I looked at the mirror he held up, my eyes tracing the intricate lines of the hanok, the place that symbolized so much of my past and present. “It’s perfect,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Auntie beamed. “Good. Now you’ll always have a piece of home with you.”