The dentist’s chair has been wiped clean with Windex, or something that smells like it. The vinyl is cold on my stomach. I straddle the seat awkwardly, shoving my left leg into place, balancing my cane. Leela appears in front of me, swivelled forward on a wheeled office stool, pulling her hair back with a band.
‘Little accident, was it?’ She nods her chin at my denim-covered leg, at the cane.
‘Something like that.’
‘He got shot,’ Barry pipes up. Jesus – if his mouth opened much wider, all his teeth’d fall out.
Leela lifts her eyebrows, making the ball bearings dance.
‘It fucking hurt, is all I know,’ I grit.
Leela swivels back to someplace behind me. ‘Right. Well, this is gonna hurt, too.’
‘I figured,’ I say drily, and she laughs.
The tracing on takes about twenty-five minutes. Snowie gets bored in that time, and he and Ando go up the road for another beer. By the time they mosey back I’m standing side-on to the mirror, trying to see over my left shoulder. Barry’s holding a hand mirror helpfully to one side.
‘Looks awesome,’ he enthuses. His mouth might always be flapping, but Barry’s party spirit is kind of endearing. At least he’s keen.
Even Snowie seems to catch a bit of it. He leans on the counter, lighting a smoke. ‘Yeah, value for money, I reckon.’
Leela tilts her head critically. She angles me this way and that like I’m a hanging cut of meat, pushing my arm up so she can see the shape move. ‘Yeah, I think it’ll be all right. This bit over your hip looks good. I’ll add most of the detail with the outline now. It’ll look even better when the shading’s done.’
‘C’mon, get on with it then,’ Ando says, grinning. ‘We wanna hear him squawk.’
So I sit back in the chair with my legs dangling in front and my chest against the vinyl. I cross my arms on the headrest, lean my chin against them.
‘Have much to drink?’ There’s a snap as Leela dons fresh gloves.
‘Um, not really. Just a few beers. Should I have had more?’
She snorts. ‘Booze makes you bleed.’ She pats my arm with one latex-covered hand, picks up this thing that trails wires. It matches the chair: some kind of drill for sadistic dentists. Now she’s got my full attention. ‘Okay, this is it. You sure?’
I nod.
She gives me an intent look. ‘Be sure. This is forever.’
Forever. Forever and a day. Until my blood and bones and skin all pass away. Something for this moment, and for every other moment to come. My decision, my mark, my choice – somethingIchose, not something my father chose for me.
I nod again, more firmly.
She scoots back around and I hear the buzzing of the needle ignite, like a hive of bees. And then the pain starts.
*
‘You got all that?’
‘I’ve got it,’ Amie says, as she fixes the tape on my leg. ‘The part about Marcus Anderson will be the part Dad’s really interested in. Now are you gonna tell me why you’ve got a massive dressing on your back, or are you just gonna let me guess?’
Driving down to Ouyen for my final appointment, my shirt felt strange against my skin. The extra padding from the bandage made me squirm. Or maybe I was squirming at the idea of Amie realising what I’d done.
‘I got a tattoo.’ I’m torn between being pleased she noticed and preferring to show it off when it’s finished. ‘You done with my leg?’
‘You got a – yes, I’m done, put your pants back on.’ She waves that away. ‘Harris. Did you say you got a tatt?’
I slide off the corner of the table to zip, manoeuvre back on to do my socks. ‘Yeah, it’s nothin’.’
‘It’s not nothing, it’s something.’ Amie leans around to catch my eye, and I’m relieved to see she’s grinning. ‘Can I look?’
