Daddy Ink

by Ali Lyda

  But I didn’t have to worry about Kyle anymore. He was gone, along with his jealousy. As for Javi, well, I thought he’d understand. I’d told him enough about how hard it was to be a single dad. Being able to talk to someone who got it would be nice, and I couldn’t imagine he’d begrudge me that.

  “Sure,” I said, and took hold of his phone to type in my number.

  Javi was in the kitchen, washing the dishes from dinner. Giuliana had gone down easily tonight, but she’d been so fussy at dinner, we’d barely had a chance to talk.

  “Hey,” I said, coming behind him to put my hands on his waist and kiss his neck above his t-shirt. “You don’t have to clean up.”

  “You say that each time, and I keep t-telling you—I don’t mind. You cook and t-take care of Giuliana. Washing dishes is the least I can d-do.”

  My hand drifted under the hem of his shirt. I trailed fingertips along the top of the waist of his jeans. “There are other ways you could thank me.”

  “Mmm,” he agreed, but he stayed focused on finishing up the dishwashing. He was like that with jobs, focused until they were finished. I’d seen it a bit at the tattoo shop, too. It was a quality I admired, how dedicated he was to whatever was in front of him.

  After grabbing a beer from the fridge, I hopped up to sit on the edge of the counter near where he was working. “Giuliana had her four-month check-up today.”

  “Ah, was she fussy from getting s-shots? Poor sweetheart. I assume the doctor told you she was perfect,” Javi joked.

  “Obviously,” I laughed. “But he also said I could start feeding her some cereals.”

  Javi finished the final plate and grabbed a towel to wipe the counters, but not before stopping to look at me with a dazzling smile. “I bet that felt huge for you.”

  “Yes! And I was at the store, and there were so many choices. But then this other dad came over and helped. Richard. He’s a single dad like me. It was such a relief to connect with someone, you know? Like, he knew exactly what I’d been hung up on. We exchanged numbers so we can do coffee playdates sometimes.”

  “Huh,” was all Javi said, but he suddenly became very focused on cleaning the already spotless counters. “That’s nice.”

  It was clear from his tone, he thought it was far from nice. My stomach felt sour, far from the light happiness I’d been feeling all day. “What’s wrong?”

  “N-nothing.”

  In the past I may have let it go, but by now, I understood some of his tells. “Are you jealous?”

  Javi refused to meet my gaze, but red crept up his neck and tipped his ears. “N...n-no.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Kyle was jealous. Super envious. And I let him be, because I wanted to make him happy. But over time it grew out of control, and he monitored a lot of my friendships. I’m your boyfriend, telling you about my day, and I don’t want to feel like I have to hide things that happened to me. Jealousy is a dealbreaker for me, Javi. I need you to trust me.” Being so firm managed to make me feel proud of myself and shitty, like I was somehow being too hard on Javi, especially when all I got in return was silence. When he finally met my pleading look, his eyes were so sad I almost slid off the counter, pulled him into my arms, and told him I was sorry and didn’t mean any of it. But I stayed put, waiting.

  “My parents were d-drug addicts. D...d-dad died of an overdose and mom ran away. That’s why I was in the foster c-care system.”

  It felt like all of my insides had fallen through the floor, leaving me emptied and cold. I’d known Javi had grown up in the foster care system, but he’d never told me how he got there before. “Oh, Javi.”

  “B..b-before I lost them, they made fun of my s-s-stutter. My d-dad said he wanted to s-slap me each time I messed up, because maybe I’d s-stop if it meant getting hurt. And they were far f-from the last to make me feel b-b-b-b...make me feel less than. S-self-esteem is hard for me. I s-sign so I can feel in c-c-control, b-but the stutter controls me. It, and all that past s-s-shit, make me question my worth. All of the time.”

  He exhaled as if he’d run a marathon. I felt such a wave of emotions—I wanted to kick the shit out of his parents for what they did. I wanted to save past-Javi from a system that would break him down. I wanted so desperately to tell him what I saw when I looked at him, someone beautiful and talented and special.

  But I didn’t get the chance.

  Javi hung the towel by the oven and straightened. “I s-should have t-told you this first. B-but I’m not in a good enough place to not feel jealous or threatened. Maybe s-starting something with you was a s...s-s-s-...was a b-bad idea.”

  My mouth hung open. How did we go from talking about my day to that? It felt critical to not say the wrong thing right now. Javi looked so frail, like a piece of tissue being pulled at from all sides, and I couldn’t bear the thought of causing another rip in his heart. But because I couldn’t do anything right, it seemed, my silence sent him hurrying out the door.

  “Javi, wait!” I followed him. But as I was pulling on my shoes, Giuliana’s cry rang out through the house. Damnit! Now I was the one being torn, knowing I needed to go to Javi but unable to leave my daughter upset and alone in the house.

  I’m such an insensitive prick. Why did I have to be such a jerk about the jealousy? I’d been thinking about Kyle, triggered by Richard’s request, and then promptly projected my own issues onto Javi, without even giving myself time to process—without giving Javi time to process. Feeling hateful toward myself, I placed my shoes back near the door and hurried up to my daughter.

  Giuliana was angry about a wet diaper. I changed her, trying to take my time and not rush. But anxiety had made my stomach sour and an unpleasant heat build in my chest, and I was eager to call Javi. Unfortunately, my nerves must have been felt by my baby, because it took her a long time to settle down again, finally drifting back to sleep again over an hour later.

  When I finally was able to call Javi, it rang a few times and went to voicemail. The same thing happened the next time I called, and the next. Trying not to worry too much, I peeked out the window. All of his lights were still on; he hadn’t gone to bed yet. Which meant he wasn’t answering my call on purpose.

  I didn’t want to give him space. He’d told me his needs, and instead of listening, I’d gotten defensive. It was my fault he’d reacted the way he did, and all I wanted was to try and fix it immediately. But I hadn’t listened to him and it had upset him, so what I wanted...I needed to put my wants aside. If he didn’t want to talk yet, I’d give him space.

  When he was ready, he’d come back… right?

  18

  Javi

  Work had always been a respite for me, a place where I could be with people I cared about and do something I was good at. Today, though, it felt like a prison. All I wanted was to hide under my covers and pretend the night before hadn’t happened.

  I canceled my afternoon appointment, something I’d never done before. Trinity had given me a concerned look but didn’t press the issue, and after freeing up my day, I buried myself in sketches. But they were too dark, the edges rough and angry.

  I’d been honest with Gordo, letting the parts of myself that weighed me down daily spill out. It had felt monstrously difficult to admit that I didn’t think much of myself, and why. Truth could sting, it could be vicious, and it had carved me to pieces to put it out in the world, especially to someone I admired and cared for so much, someone who was so smart and sexy and good.

  But what had I gotten for my confession?

  Gordo’s open-mouthed silence.

  A splash of wet ruined the ink on my paper, and I angrily brushed away the tears, hoping no one had seen them. Thankfully, Dane was too busy joshing around with a customer, and Trinity was giving me distance.

  Gordo had called me after I’d left, but I’d wanted something more. I’d wanted him to come to me, showing me I was worth fighting for. Because on my own, I struggled too much believing I was worth it, especially when I was alr
eady feeling jealous and self-conscious and stupid for reacting so strongly. But he hadn’t come over and, after the night of our fight, he stopped calling, too. Had I fucked things up already?

  Just as I was about to sink to lower wallowing depths, I felt a hand clasp on my shoulder. When I looked up, I saw Reagan’s concerned face. He looked like he wanted to ask me how I was, opening his mouth, and then thinking better of it.

  Instead, he said, “The apprentice, Bryce, made a video of the fundraiser. He said it's gotten a lot of traction online and is going to show us. Wanna watch?”

  Nodding, I brushed my cheeks again to make sure they were clear and took a second to compose myself. When I came out from my station, everyone was huddled around the front counter, staring at the main scheduling computer. Dane threw an arm over my shoulders, but managed, for once, not to crack a joke. He just lent me his strength, and I fucking loved him for it.

  “So I took a bunch of shots and edited it with some music, just to showcase the awesome work y’all do here.” Bryce’s cheeks were pink as he said it, but I could tell he was proud of the video.

  “Yeah, yeah, you brown-noser, we like you, too. Play the video!” Dane said, his arm giving me one more reassuring squeeze before dropping away.

  Bryce hit play. It was a very impressive video—he’d shot it in HD, and with the music and the edits, the tattoos were featured perfectly. For flash tattoos, they looked great, and I realized halfway through that most of the ones Bryce had featured were been mine. A sensation I was afraid to call pride crept its way up my spine.

  “So in the comments,” Bryce said, “they all want to know the artists. And it’s been shared over two thousand times since I put it up yesterday. And…” he paused, looking to Reagan, who nodded. “They’re going to show it on the news tonight! They’re doing a whole segment on the shop, and the fundraiser for the center!”

  Trinity and Dane immediately began whooping and high-fiving. It was a huge deal, that kind of free publicity. But Reagan came up behind me and said low enough that it was just for me, “They wanted to interview you for the news, but you’ve had so much going on, I told them you were unavailable. I’m sorry if that was overstepping, but I’ve been worried about you, Javi.”

  The tears threatened to return, but in gratitude this time. I faced Reagan and signed, unable to speak. “Thank you. I wouldn’t have felt comfortable with a recorded interview. This is awesome, though!”

  “It is,” Reagan agreed. “And don’t think I didn’t notice how much of your art was in there. You’ve got a gift, Javi. Remember how lucky we are to have you in our lives.”

  My throat ached with the rawness of trying to swallow down the feelings trying to get out. “Do you mind if I take a few days of vacation? I’ve got some stuff going on, and I’d like to help with the center.”

  Reagan’s smile faltered. “Is everything okay?”

  “Not really. But I think with some time and space to think, I’ll be better. Especially with your good news.” I hoped that by turning it back on Reagan’s success, he’d let me off the hook.

  “Just don’t brood and worry yourself into some kind of kick-you-when-you’re-down cycle, okay?”

  It managed to make me laugh. “You d-don’t know me,” I joked. Because that had been a very real possibility.

  “Okay, take the time. You’ve earned it, but you better do it now, because I have a feeling this video is going to mean big things for the shop.” Reagan looked like a dad who’d just seen his kid walk for the first time, full of pride and excitement.

  But I needed to get out before I fell apart. Throwing some quick signs to let Dane know I’d talk to him later, I grabbed my things and went to my truck. Inside, I gripped the wheel hard enough that my knuckles shone white. There was a chance I was making the situation out to be worse than it was. I knew that my self-esteem did tend to push me to assume the worst. And while I had told Gordo that maybe us being together was a stupid idea, I was surprised to discover I didn’t fully believe it.

  What that meant for me...I wasn’t sure.

  A few days later I was still eating breakfast and trying to pull myself out of the funk a night of fitful sleep had left me in when the phone rang. I picked it up immediately, blindly hoping that it would be Gordo, but I was quickly disappointed.

  “Javi, you gotta come in to the center,” Mike said. He was trying to make it sound like an emergency, but there was no missing the lilt of mirth in his voice. He was giddy, and I wasn’t surprised.

  I’d spent a lot of my time off reading, working out, and following the video online. Bryce had really struck gold. After the news had featured Get Ink’d, the story had continued to spread and I’d seen the video shared on celebrity twitter pages and several nationwide news channels. It was surreal, and I knew when I went back to work that the hustle would really begin.

  “I’m in the middle of s-something, you sure you can’t tell me on the phone?” I wasn’t in the middle of something, but I was still trying to work up the courage to talk to Gordo. I hadn’t seen or heard from him in days, though, and that…well, it didn’t feel good.

  Mike hemmed and hawed in an exaggerated fashion. “Fine, you spoilsport. We’ve been getting donations from around the country. From some very famous names, too. The video of your fundraiser has helped make enough that I can hire a tutor for Andrew. And possibly expand our help for more special needs children, too.”

  I felt the first smile in days tug at my lips. “That’s awesome, Mike. I’m s-s-so happy for you.”

  “Happy for me? Javi, this wouldn’t have been possible if it wasn’t for you. You’ve saved the center and you’ve made it possible for Andrew to keep coming and get some much-needed help. That’s incredible. I hope you’re as proud of you as I am.”

  “I’ll try to be,” I said, hoping it sounded more like a joke than the truth it was.

  Almost as soon as Mike hung up, my phone rang again. My heart skipped, hoping that the good fortune would continue, and that this time it would be Gordo calling me to make things okay. Instead, I saw Reagan’s name.

  “Hey, Boss.”

  “Crew meeting in an hour, can you be here?” There was an urgency to Reagan’s voice that I honed in on immediately.

  “S-sure. What’s g-going on?”

  “I’ll tell you if you promise not to call Dane or Trinity and spoil my surprise.”

  My interest was more than piqued now. Reagan was as slow and steady as they came, the bear that protected you and then helped you learn to fend for yourself after. To hear him so worked up about something was rare.

  “Deal,” I agreed.

  “I just got off the phone with a TV network—they want to do a show featuring the shop. Not a series, just a one-time episode highlighting you guys, your art, and some stuff about the fundraiser. I’ve already been getting calls since Bryce’s video about booking.

  “This would get us set for life, I think. Free promotion, you know? So come in and maybe stop and pick up some beer or champagne on your way? We’re going to celebrate, and you are not allowed to come grumpy or sad-faced or depressed, got it?”

  Now my smile was stretched wide. “You’re the b-boss.”

  Holy shit. Two phone calls just changed my life. Normally when I heard good news, I waited for the other shoe to drop, but this time, I found myself just wanting to be in the moment. I took a private moment in my truck before heading out to the shop.

  I’d helped do this for people I loved. I’d helped the center. I’d kept my promise to Andrew. And Reagan, who had saved me in ways he probably didn’t know… well, this felt a bit like paying him back. And it would be a boost to everyone at the shop. All of us would be booked a year out for certain now; we’d be able to pick and choose each piece. That kind of freedom in the tattooing world was a fucking blessing.

  My thumb hovered over my contacts. Gordo’s name was right there, and I wanted more than anything to call him and tell him the good news. While I was thrilled to go ce
lebrate with the crew at the shop, it was clear that my heart wanted someone else there, too.

  It might have been petty, though, but I wanted him to call me again. The fact that he hadn’t in days...I was beginning to worry that he decided I was right—that it had been dumb for us to be together, even though I’d only said that out of fear in the heat of the moment.

  This moment was amazing, and I didn't think I could handle ruining it by calling Gordo and discovering he truly didn’t want me anymore.

  It sucked, a low ache that hummed through my bones. But now I had the tide of good fortune to carry me through.

  I just had to hope it would be enough until I could see Gordo again.

  19

  Gordo

  “I come bearing gifts of coffee.”

  Richard pushed his stroller up to the bench I was sitting on at the park. Giuliana was playing with blades of grass as she sat on the mat. Every five minutes I had to bend down and sweep a spike of green grass from her gummy mouth.

  Well, not so gummy. She had two teeth sprouting from her lower gums that liked to try and take a chunk from my finger every time I put it in her mouth.

  “Coffee is the best gift,” I said, taking the cup Richard offered me. “Thanks.”

  “Thanks for agreeing to a playdate,” he said with enthusiasm.

  I watched him as he set Quinn up beside Giuliana. Quinn was mobile, so Richard unpacked what looked to be a department store’s worth of toys to try and keep Quinn occupied close by. As Richard moved, I noticed he’d shaved. It made him look nice—very All-American dad. I could imagine him tossing the football with Quinn in thirteen years.

  When he sat down, he sat down close to me. I scooted away just slightly, not enough for him to notice, a streak of guilt passing through me. As soon as Richard and I had set up a meeting time and place, I’d been chewing on guilt. I gnawed at it and it gnawed at me, a back and forth that I couldn’t quite get figured out. Part of me felt like I had nothing to feel ashamed of. I was allowed to meet other dads and have playdates, after all. But that hadn’t been the real issue.