I stand, still shocked by the proposal, and my need to hide in my shop eats me alive. “I’ll be downstairs at work.”
“Okay.”
I should walk away, but instead I stay still. “Rest.” I order him, because if he does it, he’ll be out of here sooner. “Tell Jeremy he can come to see you.” Fuck, my mouth keeps running the show. I need to fucking leave.
A beep outside brings me back to the room and dissipates the memories of last night.
Helping him back to the sofa and offering him to stay for a couple of days confused me to no end. Touching him gives me peace, and that confuses me even more…
I untangle my hand from his curls, and without another look, I go back downstairs. I don’t need those memories, I’ve banned them from my mind, from my existence. I want my life to stay as simple as it is.
What about Arianna?
That thought stays with me all morning, while my brain is free of mulling over things, especially in between appointments. I’m glad this client was early, so I could concentrate on creating the design, and now I’m getting the chair ready, and once I’ve started there won’t be any distraction until I’m done.
“Sit here, please,” I guide the client to the chair I’ve just cleaned.
I clean the part where the tattoo is going to go and then set myself to start the job.
Usually this part is the part I love most, when I watch my creations take form and be forever branded into someone else’s skin. Today, though, I just want to be done. I take a deep breath, and when I exhale I let all my thoughts go, leaving space only for my job.
The coil of the tattoo machine buzzes in my hand and I relax under the familiar, almost hypnotic sound. My hand is steady while I follow the line of the rose, and I watch the way the ink sinks inside the skin, making the light blue line turn vivid black.
“How is it looking?”
“It looks great, so far.”
“It feels like thousands of angry bees are feasting on me,” he says with a nervous chuckle.
“That’s the charm. You’ll be back in this chair very soon for another round.”
I keep working in silence, making sure my hand is steady and the lines are perfect. I use my hand to stretch the skin when I need to, and clean the ink when necessary.
This is me, calm and collected, and never affected by anything.
The guy keeps asking questions, wanting to know why I chose this job and if I love it, and I reply with yes, or no, until I’m finally done.
His constant chatting has the power to distract me a little from what’s waiting upstairs, and from what’s waiting for me at my parents’ house.
What’s waiting upstairs is making my life even messier than it already was. I can’t ignore his gentle ways, his innocence—even with the job he does—his longing that calls so much to mine, and his touch that makes my skin sing. And makes other parts of my body stand to attention.
What’s waiting at my parents’ house scares the shit out of me. Years alone, no caring for anyone but my sister. All myrelationships lasted only for the time it took to empty myself inside the other person and say goodbye. Always with a mutual agreement not to see each other again.
The only other person in my life was the owner of this shop. The only one who knew what they did to me, and stood silently by my side until I trusted him and opened up. He was taken away from me too quickly, leaving me to mourn another loss.
I’ve learnt that being alone is easier than loving and trusting. There is no love or trust left in me.
Caring for Arianna scares me. I’m not a father, and I’m not good at anything. Only this. Inking people is what I do well.
I failed at everything when I failed my parents expectations. Being torn away from my life, seeing my parents morph from loving people into monsters in the blink of an eye, losing my little sister… Those things destroyed me.
“How is it coming along?”
My client’s voice quiets those thoughts, making them fade away into the background and giving me back my balance. Something I hold onto with teeth and claws. I’m never going to let anyone be so important to me that they can tear my life into thousands of pieces.
“It looks wicked,” I reply, and keep my eyes and my mind on it.
Once I’m done, I use the mirror to show him the design, and I’m satisfied with how the tattoo turned out. I make quick work of cleaning the spot and wrapping it up, and then I move us to the till so I can give him the instructions and send him on his way.
