Great. Even my own mother thought I was too stiff. Just wonderful.
“Okay, fine, so my loony mother thinks it’s fine. But my dad will murder me,” I noted, groaning at the prospect. Sure, my dad and I weren’t all that close. His job consumed basically all of his time. But as long as I lived in his house, his words still ruled, even if he wasn’t around to enforce them.
“Your mom said she’d take care of it,” he said. “So what else is stopping you? Come on, throw out another excuse so I can slam it down.”
“Pain.”
“Pain? Oh please, Emma, it’ll be over before you know it. Suck it up. I’m not even entertaining that one. Any other excuses?”
I racked my mind for a valid reason. My brain was running down lists and lists of why this was a bad idea. This wasn’t something I did. Period. But for some reason, I felt my mental resolve wearing down. Maybe I was just tired or overwhelmed from the shock of the surprise. Regardless, I felt excuses and rationale leaking out of my body, replaced with adrenaline and thrill. The more I considered it, the closer to the truth I came. If I was being truly introspective, the truth was I wanted to get a tattoo. I wanted to “live a little,” so to speak. I wanted to do something completely out of character, completely crazy, and completely with Corbin. So I relented.
“Okay, fine. I’ll do it. But one more question,” I said.
Corbin smiled. “I knew you’d give in. Okay, shoot.”
“What are we getting?”
He winked at me, shaking his head. “Do you have to ask? After all, it was designed by you.”
I goggled him with both shock and wonder that he had remembered.
So, that afternoon, all two-hundred and fifty pounds of Ted tattooed a tiny white dove on mine and Corbin’s hip. Despite the shear, unbearable pain, I was all smiles…well, eventually I was all smiles. After the tears in my eyes stopped stinging and the throbbing on my hip became almost bearable if not forgettable, I was able to revel in what I had accomplished that afternoon. I, Emma Groves, the squarest rule-follower around, had done something crazy. I had thrown caution to the wind, had taken a risk, had trusted in Corbin, and Ted, too. Best of all, Corbin and I would be forever tied together by this tiny symbol and adventurous afternoon, I thought as the bells on Ted’s Tat’s tinkled to announce our exit.
I cautiously sauntered out of the dilapidated shop, letting the screeching screen door slam against its own hinge. Each step jammed a figurative knife into my intensely sensitive skin. With the adrenaline and excitement wearing off, I was again starting to realize the downside of tattoos—agony.
“I could kill you right now,” I whined. “I feel like someone’s stabbing me.”
Corbin, pretending to be Mr. Tough Guy, said, “It’s not that bad. I don’t even feel it.” The grimace on his face suggested otherwise. He was feeling it, too.
“Admit it, it was fun,” he said.
“Oh, yes, being jabbed with needles for forty-five minutes was a blast,” I said sarcastically.
“Well, you’ll be happy to know, then, that the rest of your surprise doesn’t involve a single sharp object,” he said as he started the truck. He flashed those perfectly white teeth as he said it. I paused for a second, looking at him, confused.
“What do you mean by ‘the rest of your surprise’? You mean there’s more?” I asked in true disbelief. This couldn’t be good.
“That’s what I said. Don’t get all huffy about it. Just go with it for once, okay? I don’t feel like hearing you complaining the whole way there,” he said. “And don’t even try to figure it out. I promise you won’t.”
“Great. I can hardly wait for what’s next,” I said, shaking my head. Inside, however, I had to admit that I was a little excited. This surprise thing wasn’t so bad after all. Besides, what could be worse than getting a tattoo? Of course, if my mother was in on this part of the surprise, I was terrified to even think about that prospect.
I glanced out the front windshield in a feeble attempt to gauge where the truck was headed. When we finally ended up on a familiar rutty road, recognition clicked in—we were headed to our tree. Okay, this definitely couldn’t be a bad surprise.
After he had parked the truck in its familiar spot, Corbin dug behind his seat. He reached under the blanket that he kept in his truck for such occasions and pulled out his backpack. It was filled with the picnic essentials. We still hadn’t outgrown our adolescent eating habits.
I smiled at him, saying, “Okay, you’re right. This is a nice surprise.” He gave me a mischievous look, which suddenly made me feel uneasy. Maybe I was underestimating him after all.
Lunch went as usual. I wolfed down my bag of chips and chugged a soda. I finished it off with a chocolate bar. Corbin ate the same items, except double the quantity. Everything seemed normal, but Corbin barely uttered two words, which made me more than a little nervous.
After we had finished lunch and scooped up the remnants of our trash, I realized that the anxiety on his face was more than a little discernible. It was overpowering his whole being.
“Corbin, what’s wrong?” I asked. “You’ve been quiet since we got here.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said reassuringly. “Here, just sit down for a second, okay?” He grabbed my hands as I sat back down on the blanket. Flashbacks of that confession he made to me years ago started plaguing my mind. I was terrified of what he might tell me. It couldn’t be bad, though, right? He wouldn’t wait until my birthday to reveal something else tragic or awful...would he?
Corbin knelt down on both knees beside me. I noticed that his hands were shaking a little bit as he began to speak. “Look, Emma, there’s something I’ve got to say,” he said. I nodded, encouraging him to continue. Inside, my heart was starting to sink.
“I know that you’ve been worried about next year, with us being apart and all,” he said slowly.
I, of course, had been accepted to the local university. Although my family had whooped and cheered at the acceptance letter last month, I thought it was a little ridiculous. The true cheers had come a few weeks later when Corbin had received his acceptance letter to the Art Institute in Pittsburgh. His sheer exuberance at his future proved that art school had been more than just a passing thought to him—it was his ultimate dream.
While I was thrilled at the prospect of our futures holding everything we wanted individually, I couldn’t deny that I was nervous about how our individual dreams would affect our common future. How could things stay the same if we were several hours apart? Certainly, it wasn’t an insurmountable distance. Corbin would be home almost every weekend. Still, I wouldn’t be able to see him every day. How would the separation change us? Would our relationship be able to survive without our daily interactions? Would we grow apart? The questions and uncertainties of the future invaded my thoughts and threatened to banish my excitement for the future. I had told Corbin about my concerns. Of course, he didn’t share them. He felt that we would be fine, that we would make it. His confidence only made me feel worse about my lack of it.
“Yeah, I’m a little worried. I’m sure it’ll be fine, though,” I said, insecurity hinting into my tone.
“We’ll be fine, Emma. We will,” he affirmed. “But I know that you could use a little reassurance…some sense of commitment,” he insinuated.
“Yeah, and we have that now. Remember?” I said, pointing where my aching tattoo now marked me.
“Yeah, we do. But I think we could use something a little more public,” he said. Recognition of what was happening started to dawn on me. A new sense of anxiety panged my stomach, my mind, my heart. Panic also set in. This was all happening way too fast.
“Corbin, what are you saying?” I asked, wanting to know the answer, yet not ready to know either. My eyes poured over him as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a black velvet box.
“Wait, that’s not a…” I said, but Corbin interrupted me.
“It is...sort of,” he said.
“Sort of? How is it sort of?” I asked, rushing the words. Alarm sped up and slurred my pronunciation.
“Just be quiet for two seconds, okay? God, you’re a control freak,” he said, a nervous laugh following his words.
“Look, I know we’re young. And we’re not ready to get married, not really. But I am ready to promise you that I will marry you some day. I love you. Forever. So…” He opened the tiny black box that was now in his hand. “I bought you this. It’s a promise ring,” he said. I was staring at the shiny gold band studded with several tiny diamond chips.
Everything around us started to whirl and blur into a big pile of mush in my brain. I could barely focus on the ring or Corbin. My head was absolutely spinning. I loved Corbin with all my heart and knew that someday we would get married. I just hadn’t expected it all to happen so soon. Sure, it wasn’t an engagement ring. But it was the closest thing to it. I felt tears welling in my eyes, but I held them back. I couldn’t utter a single word. I just stared at him while he continued.
Nervousness caused his words to tumble out so fast that they almost whirred right by me.
“Emma, I’m giving you this ring as a sign of our future together, of my confidence in our future. No matter how far apart we may be, no matter what dreams we may chase after individually, I want you to know that you will always be my first priority. I will always, always love you. I promise that no matter what life throws at us, I won’t let anything come between us. This ring is a promise that someday I will replace it with a real engagement ring and eventually a wedding ring. As long as that’s what you want.” He paused now, waiting for an answer. His fingers aimlessly smoothed over the ring, waiting to rip it out of the box and shove it onto my finger.
I was still frozen. Shock had dilapidated my ability to react. In the movies, the girl always knew exactly what to say. The words came out effortlessly, followed by a passionate kiss. This was not going so smoothly. The only word to truly describe my reaction was graceless.
Eventually, three words came to my lips, and I barely managed to stammer them. “Oh my God,” I proclaimed.
Corbin scrutinized me, scrunching his eyebrows. “Is that a good oh my God, or a bad one?” he asked.
I just stared at him, glancing at the ring. I shook my head in disbelief. I still couldn’t believe this was happening.
“Um, yeah,” I said unintelligently.
“Emma, yeah what?” Corbin’s impatience was starting to shine through. The wait was killing him.
“Yeah, I want to marry you, too. Someday.” I smiled at my clumsy words. Thank God I would have another chance at all of this when he proposed for real.
A smile pervaded Corbin’s entire face, flickering through his brown eyes. He ripped the ring out of the box, throwing delicacy and smoothness to the wind. He glided it on the ring finger of my left hand.
“Perfect fit,” he said, wrapping his arms around me. In fact, it was, almost like a sign of good fortune to come. I squeezed him tightly, then pulled back just enough to kiss him.
“I love you,” I muttered when I surfaced from our kiss for air.
“I kind of love you, too,” Corbin said back, grinning.
My shock was quickly replaced by a new feeling—ecstasy. The one person who meant the world to me loved me back enough to promise his future to me. Suddenly, the fears I had about the next year seemed juvenile. Corbin was in this for the long haul, and so was I. Life was going to be hard and throw us some punches, but we would manage. I felt sure of it. If I ever forgot, that shiny ring on my finger would remind me of what we had. If that failed, the tattoo would serve as backup. What more could I ask for? What more proof did I need? It had been a monumental day, and a truly special birthday. As we rose to stand, a thought suddenly struck me.
“Corbin?” I said, brushing his arm. He pulled back enough to look at me.
“Yeah?”
“One question.”
“What?”
“What if I had said no? To the ring? I mean, didn’t you kind of do things backward? Shouldn’t you have asked me if I wanted to be with you forever before we got the matching tattoos?”
He just laughed. “Do I ever do things rationally?”
“True,” I said, smiling, too.
“And besides,” he added, “I figured I could always have Ted turn it into a black crow or something, worst case scenario.”
“A crow? Lovely.” I said, poking at his ribs. After a few more kisses, we gathered up the blanket and headed for the truck.
“Come on, we can’t be late,” he said as he rushed me to the truck.
“For what?”
“Your mom’s extravaganza. You didn’t forget, did you?”
“How could I,” I said.
Corbin grinned. “She’ll be so excited to see that ring on your finger,” he said.
“She knew about this, right?” I said, knowing the answer.
“Of course. I asked her if she’d be okay with it all,” he said as he started driving home.
“And? As if I have to ask,” I said, shaking my head.
“And she is thrilled at the prospect of having such an amazing son-in-law in the future,” he added. “Plus, she said she would change your mind if you turned me down. It was good reassurance for my ego,” he said.
I shook my head. “Isn’t she supposed to be on my side?”
“Well, she is,” he said, looking at me. “What kind of mother would let this,” he said, motioning to himself, get away?” A smug grin filled his face.
I shook my head again. “You’re hopeless,” I said.
“Better get used to it,” he smirked.
I peered down at my left hand. The tiny diamonds caught a ray of sunlight and glimmered back at me. I liked the look of that ring on my finger, the shiny gold enveloping the tiny, iridescent chips. Looking over at Corbin, though, I realized I liked the look of the guy who had put it there even more.
Chapter Nineteen: The Coffee Angel
Emma
I glance down at my hand now, noticing the absence of that particular diamond chipped band on my hand. A diamond solitaire and a solid gold band now sit where it once had rested, but they are not Corbin’s. They belong to another man and another time. Truth be told, they belong to a woman who is completely different than that naive girl who relished in the simplicity of love and its promises. Sitting in that truck on my eighteenth birthday, I had wondered what the engagement ring Corbin would give me would look like. I wondered how he would propose, where we would get married. I never thought for a second that his promises wouldn’t come true.
I realize that I have somehow ended up in the tub in the midst of my memories. Mountains of suds and bubbles cover my body as the now-chilled water taunts my skin, goose-bumped and wrinkled. As I debate whether or not I truly have to wash my grotesque, greasy hair, the phone rings, pounding in its urgency. Ignoring the water splashing onto the floor, I leap out of the tub, grab my towel, and slide across the tile, bone chillingly icy on my slippery feet. Trickles of water cascade down my back in the hall as I traipse to my bedroom where a cordless phone rests on its receiver. I pick up the phone, hoping not to zap myself from getting water on the receiver.
“Hello?” I say, my voice gritty from not being used for hours.
“Hey, baby, how are you?” The familiar voice, warm and sinuous, clutches me with its familiarity, making me feel at home. The depth of his greeting, as simple as it is, soothes the edginess in my soul. It’s amazing how just a few words from him can melt away the coarseness of my inner being.
“I’m good, John. What’s up?” Despite the comfort I find in his voice, my words still sound spacey. I’m not fooling anyone with my “I’m fine” act.
John rarely calls me while he’s at work. His hectic schedule leaves few minutes for eating, let alone phone calls just to chat. Thus, I know he is worried about me, worried about what today might do to me. Maybe he is worried about what it might do to us.
“I just wanted to mak
e sure you’re okay,” he admitted. Great. Just as I suspected, he is concerned about me. Do I seem that fragile to everyone these days? Everyone seems to think I am going to crack into pieces today. I feel like my family has worked out a suicide watch schedule, ready to pounce in with a SWAT team the second I seem on edge.
“I’m fine. Just took a bath and read a magazine. Hank’s sleeping already,” I added, hoping to change the focus of the conversation. I try to sound confident, collected, like it’s a regular day. It doesn’t seem to be working because John just breathes loudly in the phone, a sign of his uneasiness.
“Listen, Emma, I feel bad about leaving you. Maybe I can call Steve and see if he can cover for me tonight. I don’t want to leave you all alone,” John adds sensitively. That’s John for you, always thinking about someone else. Always considerate, even if I don’t deserve it. What other man would be so delicate about this situation?
“John, please, I’m fine. I promise. I’m actually getting ready for bed,” I lie. “It would be pointless for you to come home. Stay and get your work done. I’ll see you in the morning.”
John pauses for a few moments. He finally gives in, saying, “Okay, if you’re sure. If you change your mind, just call. Oh, babe, the alarm’s going off. Got to go. Love you. I’ll be home sometime tomorrow morning.” And with that, the phone clicks.
Most women would be upset over John’s absence. Missed dinners, late nights, and infrequent calls often strain an ER doctor’s relationship back at home. Many women struggle with coming in second place. Eventually, the attraction of Jacuzzis, lavish vacations, and pricy shoes that are stereotypically associated with a doctor’s salary wear off. Material goods seem worthless when time and attention are what is truly craved.
John’s hectic work schedule has never bothered me, though. Part of it stems from my father. I was used to him being gone for his job. I saw how hard he worked to support the family, and I appreciated his determination. The other part of my acceptance comes from the fact that I spent the majority of my adult life alone. I guess I’m just used to crawling into an empty bed and waking up to one just the same. John may not be around much, but the little companionship and time we spend together is more than I ever thought I would have.
Voice of Innocence: A Coming-Of-Age Sweet Romance Page 14