“Yeah? How did you mean it then?” He seethes.
“Sam, bad shit happens every day all around us. Look at Noah and Carrie, Cassa and Jen. Look what Tay did to my brother. Look what you went through. Shit legit happens baby, but that is why you need to live to the fullest.”
“You are acting dense Mya. There is no way you could understand.”
“Dense? Well fuck you too.” I say and grab my duffel bag. I won’t stand here to take his uncalled-for bullshit. Nope.
“Mya…” He calls my name, little to no anger in his tone.
I turn at the door and look at him. “You may not like what I am about to say, but you are going to listen Sam. If heaven exists as I believe it does, then I guarantee you that Kace is grateful that you lived big and loud for her.”
“Kace. Is. Dead.”
I take a deep breath to stop from smacking his face. I am that pissed.
“You’re right and for the time you had with her it was filled with love, joy and blessings. That is what you have forgotten in all the turmoil. She had the best of you and now you stop living and claim it in her memory? Not fucking fair Sam. You are better than that. And that little girl deserves her memory driving you on.”
I turn again as he calls my name.
“I am going to my apartment tonight. You need to think long and hard about your next move here Sam.”
I don’t wait for a reply and walk away. As I back out, I see him still in the studio and know he will lock up, maybe even stay the night. Either way he needs to figure his shit out before he ruins his life.
Sam
I’m in trouble.
I knew it when she said she was going to her old place.
I could have stopped her. I should have stopped her. I’m acting like a selfish prick and didn’t want to admit she was right. Noah too. I miss tattooing. I love to weld, but it’s a hobby and tattooing is my passion. I miss the feeling of creating something remarkable, putting my name on it and knowing it will last forever. I guess at some point I made a deal with fate. I would give up tattooing, something I loved to the very core of me. I gave it up to balance the odds and now I realize how fucking crazy it sounds.
There is no balancing the scales because I’m not God and He will do as He sees fit. Thinking I could have a hand in it was arrogant and its costing me too much.
I lock up her studio and head to the PIT. It’s closed and late as fuck, but I need to be there. I unlock the door and reset the alarm before heading to my booth. It looks like I left it two years ago. The only difference is all the new drawings I’ve done since I started coming here a few weeks back.
My phone alerts me to a text and I grab my phone like a teenager with a crush hoping it’s my girl.
Noah: Hey, you at the shop? I just got a notification the alarm was reset.
Me: Yeah. Huge fight with Mya. Came here to crash and think.
Noah: You alright? I can come in if you need.
I ponder it and wonder if I should. If anyone would understand the state of my head, it’s Noah.
Me: No Ill be alright.
I send it and decide to send one more.
Me: You were right. I belong here. Sorry for being a dick. Got shit on my mind.
Noah: I figured. We can talk tomorrow.
Its after two in the morning and I know Mya is awake. She’s as bad as I am when it comes to being apart. I want to text her and tell her to come to me and decide against it. I want to give her the time she needs. I know I upset her, and I won’t apologize like a tool over a text message.
I grab my pens and paper and decide to draw up the tat I want to give her. I drew it a million times while in prison and I keep adding to it. I don’t know if I will ever really give her it or even show her. This tat is our story and I pray to God it doesn’t end early.
