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smackenzieThis client looks more like a white-collar office worker who sees the inside of a gym maybe twice a week than a tough guy, but all the same, the expression on his face when he talks about his daughter makes me smile. All kids should be so lucky as to have that kind of parent.
His love for his kid, oddly enough, just makes me want to give him the best tattoo possible. To be fair, I feel that way about everyone - if I didn't always want to do the best work I could, I'd be in a different business - but I especially want him to be happy with his ink.
Unsurprisingly (because I'm good at what I do), he is. I tell him to suggest my studio for his wife, if she ever decides to rebel against her mother and get a small, easily-hidden tattoo. I do not suggest he keep us in mind for when his daughter turns eighteen, if she too should decide she wants some ink. I don't want to presume. Besides, who knows what could happen? Maybe I'll move towns and set up shop somewhere else. Right now it doesn't seem likely, but I can't see the future and I could change my mind.
I clean everything after the client leaves, and because I'll be here another couple of hours and I need to do something with him, I put Kay to work. He tidies the waiting area, plumps the couch cushions, straightens the magazines and the binders of flash designs, dusts off the counter (not that it needs dusting, but it makes me feel better), sweeps the floor. I send him into the main area and have him sweep around mine and Kona's and Maya's stations, then ask him to fluff the pillows, shake out the rug, and rub the belly of the little Buddha statue in the meditation space.
"'Rub Buddha's belly' isn't a euphemism, is it?" he asks me dubiously. I giggle and reassure him that no, it's not.
"It's for good luck," I add.
So he does that, and then I ask him to check the sinks in the kitchen and bathroom to make sure they're not leaking again - they're not - and by this time Maya has cycled through two clients and Kona has appeared, and I don't know what to do with Kay any more.
"I think I'm gonna try to meditate," he says, solving my problem for me. "What if I fall asleep?"
"Then you'll sleep. If you think you're going to nod off, though, you should go upstairs."
"Nah, I'm awake enough." He takes off his shoes, sits cross-legged on the meditation rug, and closes his eyes. I watch him for a minute to make sure he's not asleep, and then go into the office to deal with some paperwork. There's always paperwork.
I'm starving by the end of the day, too hungry to wait until I get home to make a real dinner, so I stop for burritos on the way home. There's an excellent take-out Mexican place not far from Suzume Tattoos that makes really good vegetarian burritos and has vegetarian rice to boot. I don't care that I just had Mexican food with Mel last night. The heart wants what the heart wants, and sometimes that's enchiladas one night and a burrito the night after.
I get a bag of chips and a little container of salsa as well, and tell Kay to order whatever he wants. I have food in the house, I just don't want to cook any of it, so he may as well get dinner now.
Diego is as excited to see me as he ever is, but beside himself that I've brought Kay home. In the few weeks I've had him, I don't think I've ever seen my cat get so excited about anything, aside from the occasional bird flapping around outside. He jumps on a kitchen chair while I'm setting the table, and then when we sit down to eat, he climbs on the table. After the requisite sniffing of both our dinners, not to mention the chips, the salsa, and Kay's Coke, Diego forms himself into a loaf near Kay's plate, where he can apparently keep an eye on him. Kay seems to like it.
Diego is less interested in dessert, which I find funny only because dessert is ice cream, and then he follows us into the other room, where I sit Kay down on the couch and make him tell me where he went, why he went there, why he never bothered to tell anyone, and why he was gone so long that his friends started to worry and then brought their worry to me.
"I'm really sorry," he says. Diego climbs into his lap, curls into a fuzzy gray ball, and goes to sleep. "I didn't know what to say."
"Oh, shit, you should tell them you're here. I don't want Alene coming back to my studio to give me a hard time. Once was enough." I didn't have patience for her then, and I don't now. I fetch my phone and hand it to him. He obediently calls his friends.
"Ben? It's Kay, I'm - no, don't put - hi, yeah, I'm really sorry, I'll try to explain it tomorrow - my grandpa's - no, he's not - why would you think that? I didn't - I'm at Sparrow's, I called her to pick me - you don't have a car! I was stuck in Winslow, at the bus station, what was I gonna do? Hitchhike? I wasn't gonna walk, I was out of money - can just one person - look, I'll come home tomorrow, I'll tell you about it then, ok? I don't - I'm not gonna talk about it now, Alene, I'm tired and I don't want to. I just wanted you to know I was ok, and I'm sorry I disappeared without telling anyone, and I'm back now and I'll see you tomorrow. Ok? Ok. Goodbye." He hangs up, hands the phone over, and flops against the couch, letting his head fall back on the headrest. "Fucking... Alene. I know they were worried, I said I was sorry, I didn't want to talk about it now, and she just... she wants to yell at me. I know she's just pissed because she was worried, but I don't - I don't want to listen to her yell at me."
He rolls his head sideways so he can look at me. "Am I a bad friend?" he asks. "Because I just up and left and didn't tell anyone? And now I don't want to see them?"
"I don't think so," I say. "You didn't tell me either and I'm not going to yell at you."
"That's because I called you to come get me." He strokes Diego's head. Diego's ears twitch but I can hear him purring.
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
"I don't know. I guess. I should probably tell someone, and you're not gonna... judge me, or whatever the house is gonna do." He sits up, shifts a little - Diego doesn't even move - and says "I started seeing things everywhere. Not just, like, a little thing for ten seconds next to a guy at the bus stop, but everyone. Everyone had a, a hallucination, a vision, whatever they are. I was seeing things all the time and I didn't know what any of it meant. I couldn't go anywhere. I couldn't even stay in the house because there's eight of us and that was just... that was too many people. There's no one at Grandpa's place but him. He sent me some money for the bus and I, I left. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you."
words: 1250
total words: 30,201
His love for his kid, oddly enough, just makes me want to give him the best tattoo possible. To be fair, I feel that way about everyone - if I didn't always want to do the best work I could, I'd be in a different business - but I especially want him to be happy with his ink.
Unsurprisingly (because I'm good at what I do), he is. I tell him to suggest my studio for his wife, if she ever decides to rebel against her mother and get a small, easily-hidden tattoo. I do not suggest he keep us in mind for when his daughter turns eighteen, if she too should decide she wants some ink. I don't want to presume. Besides, who knows what could happen? Maybe I'll move towns and set up shop somewhere else. Right now it doesn't seem likely, but I can't see the future and I could change my mind.
I clean everything after the client leaves, and because I'll be here another couple of hours and I need to do something with him, I put Kay to work. He tidies the waiting area, plumps the couch cushions, straightens the magazines and the binders of flash designs, dusts off the counter (not that it needs dusting, but it makes me feel better), sweeps the floor. I send him into the main area and have him sweep around mine and Kona's and Maya's stations, then ask him to fluff the pillows, shake out the rug, and rub the belly of the little Buddha statue in the meditation space.
"'Rub Buddha's belly' isn't a euphemism, is it?" he asks me dubiously. I giggle and reassure him that no, it's not.
"It's for good luck," I add.
So he does that, and then I ask him to check the sinks in the kitchen and bathroom to make sure they're not leaking again - they're not - and by this time Maya has cycled through two clients and Kona has appeared, and I don't know what to do with Kay any more.
"I think I'm gonna try to meditate," he says, solving my problem for me. "What if I fall asleep?"
"Then you'll sleep. If you think you're going to nod off, though, you should go upstairs."
"Nah, I'm awake enough." He takes off his shoes, sits cross-legged on the meditation rug, and closes his eyes. I watch him for a minute to make sure he's not asleep, and then go into the office to deal with some paperwork. There's always paperwork.
I'm starving by the end of the day, too hungry to wait until I get home to make a real dinner, so I stop for burritos on the way home. There's an excellent take-out Mexican place not far from Suzume Tattoos that makes really good vegetarian burritos and has vegetarian rice to boot. I don't care that I just had Mexican food with Mel last night. The heart wants what the heart wants, and sometimes that's enchiladas one night and a burrito the night after.
I get a bag of chips and a little container of salsa as well, and tell Kay to order whatever he wants. I have food in the house, I just don't want to cook any of it, so he may as well get dinner now.
Diego is as excited to see me as he ever is, but beside himself that I've brought Kay home. In the few weeks I've had him, I don't think I've ever seen my cat get so excited about anything, aside from the occasional bird flapping around outside. He jumps on a kitchen chair while I'm setting the table, and then when we sit down to eat, he climbs on the table. After the requisite sniffing of both our dinners, not to mention the chips, the salsa, and Kay's Coke, Diego forms himself into a loaf near Kay's plate, where he can apparently keep an eye on him. Kay seems to like it.
Diego is less interested in dessert, which I find funny only because dessert is ice cream, and then he follows us into the other room, where I sit Kay down on the couch and make him tell me where he went, why he went there, why he never bothered to tell anyone, and why he was gone so long that his friends started to worry and then brought their worry to me.
"I'm really sorry," he says. Diego climbs into his lap, curls into a fuzzy gray ball, and goes to sleep. "I didn't know what to say."
"Oh, shit, you should tell them you're here. I don't want Alene coming back to my studio to give me a hard time. Once was enough." I didn't have patience for her then, and I don't now. I fetch my phone and hand it to him. He obediently calls his friends.
"Ben? It's Kay, I'm - no, don't put - hi, yeah, I'm really sorry, I'll try to explain it tomorrow - my grandpa's - no, he's not - why would you think that? I didn't - I'm at Sparrow's, I called her to pick me - you don't have a car! I was stuck in Winslow, at the bus station, what was I gonna do? Hitchhike? I wasn't gonna walk, I was out of money - can just one person - look, I'll come home tomorrow, I'll tell you about it then, ok? I don't - I'm not gonna talk about it now, Alene, I'm tired and I don't want to. I just wanted you to know I was ok, and I'm sorry I disappeared without telling anyone, and I'm back now and I'll see you tomorrow. Ok? Ok. Goodbye." He hangs up, hands the phone over, and flops against the couch, letting his head fall back on the headrest. "Fucking... Alene. I know they were worried, I said I was sorry, I didn't want to talk about it now, and she just... she wants to yell at me. I know she's just pissed because she was worried, but I don't - I don't want to listen to her yell at me."
He rolls his head sideways so he can look at me. "Am I a bad friend?" he asks. "Because I just up and left and didn't tell anyone? And now I don't want to see them?"
"I don't think so," I say. "You didn't tell me either and I'm not going to yell at you."
"That's because I called you to come get me." He strokes Diego's head. Diego's ears twitch but I can hear him purring.
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
"I don't know. I guess. I should probably tell someone, and you're not gonna... judge me, or whatever the house is gonna do." He sits up, shifts a little - Diego doesn't even move - and says "I started seeing things everywhere. Not just, like, a little thing for ten seconds next to a guy at the bus stop, but everyone. Everyone had a, a hallucination, a vision, whatever they are. I was seeing things all the time and I didn't know what any of it meant. I couldn't go anywhere. I couldn't even stay in the house because there's eight of us and that was just... that was too many people. There's no one at Grandpa's place but him. He sent me some money for the bus and I, I left. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you."
words: 1250
total words: 30,201
