After they leave and I get the piercing room fully sanitized, I prep my tattoo bay for my next client. This will be one of my first cover-ups; the tattoo being covered is behind the client’s ear. It’s tiny, no bigger than a dime—piece of cake. We’ve decided to cover it up with a nautilus shell. It will look awesome when it’s complete.
Logan’s wearing his glasses while he works, and I bite my lip as I stare, reminiscing about all the things he said to me this morning while I was spread like an offering. The raw unhinged version of him is so different from the man he is for everyone else, and I love that he is both.
He pauses tattooing to sign to his client. “Doing okay?”
The client nods and I grin. Watching him sign is really . . .hot. The combination of compassion and knowledge will always be sexy . . . The black latex gloves on his skilled fingers and exposed sinewy forearms don’t hurt either.
His eyes find mine and he smiles, signing to me this time. “Having a good day?” He winks.
My lips roll together to keep from breaking into laughter and reply with my hands. “Can Twinkies have good days?”
He chuckles and returns to the tattoo, shaking his head.
After a long week of work, I’m ready to be done. Kelly called my stepmom, Linda, who was more than delighted to hear Kelly’s suggestion to get the family together for a meal. The last time Kelly and I went to my parents’ was Easter. Camden couldn’t make it because he had a game in Canada, and Alexis was absent because she had the flu.
Cars are already stacked in the brick driveway when we arrive at my parents’ river bluff home; it’s a welcoming sight with warm-cedar shakes and round dormer windows. Alexis and Camden and Jordan have already arrived. Hailey probably isn’t too far behind. Odin whines in the back seat when Chicken Salad bounds out of the front door. They’re best friends after spending the weekend together while we were in Bozeman.
Kelly turns her head to speak to the beast in the back seat. “Looks like your girlfriend is excited to see you, Odie.”
Jordan steps onto the front porch and waves at us. As soon as we open the door in the back seat of my truck, Odin is bounding out, and then the two big dogs run off into the trees that sit on each side of the house.
“Use protection!” Jordan calls after them.
“Crazy kids,” Kelly adds.
I’ve always been an introvert, but socializing, or at least being in the company of my family, is something I’ve always enjoyed. Growing up, I lost my mom early. Signing is the piece of her I still carry with me. I know what she looks like from photos, but the only memories I have left are of her hands. I will always remember them. I’ve drawn them several times from memory. She had fingers like an artist, wrinkled and knobby but beautiful.
Losing our moms at a young age is something Kelly and I always had in common. I was an only child like her until my dad, Bruce, met Linda who was a single mother of three coming from an abusive relationship. Suddenly I found myself with a new mom and three new stepsiblings. Clyde, on the other hand, never remarried. His first wife was his one and only, so after that, Kelly and art were all he needed to feel complete.
“Hey, Mom . . .” I duck my head and peer into the fridge. “Do you have any fresh mozzarella?”
I’ve called LindaMomsince I was probably ten or so. It’s just easier. Besides, any sentence starting withHey, Stepmomautomatically sounds like amateur porn.
“Bottom drawer on the left. Might be toward the back. I’m going downstairs to get a couple bottles of wine. Any requests? Reds? Whites?”
“Beer,” Dad says.
I grab the cheese located precisely where she said it would be.
Being in the kitchen puts me in the center of the family’s madness without having to participate as much. I find comfort in watching my family interact with one another. Camden,Hailey, and Alexis have always had each other. When our families merged, it wasn’t like we immediately became the Brady Bunch. I’ve always been the black sheep, but they never treated me like it. They accepted and respected that I was quiet and kept to myself more often; they respected it but never let it stop them from making me feel included. A few years ago, Camden married Jordan, making her a Teller, so she’s basically another sister. And now we have Kelly too.
It helps that the Teller love language consists of giving each other shit; it comes from the heart. I generally sit back and observe the chaos, but cooking allows me to focus on a task and still catch up on everyone’s lives . . . and I enjoy it.
“Your mom wants to make this salad with mandarins or something,” my dad says, shuffling around in their pantry, picking up cans and setting them back down. “I can’t find the . . . the . . .”
“Okay, Sometimers,” Hailey says with a chuckle.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
“It’s the, uh, what’s that soup? You know, the square soup . . .”
Alexis blinks at me from the barstool across the island. “The fuck is he talking about?”
I smile and shrug, selecting a knife from the wooden block near the stove. The blade is dull as can be.
“I can hear you!” Dad says, still searching the pantry. “You know, the soup! It’s beige and curly . . .”
“First you said it was square, now it’s curly?” I ask. “Keep your story straight, man.”
