My mom’s eyes looked sad. “I understand more than you think I do, Carson.”
That’s when it hit me. I’d never considered how my father leaving could have affected my mom. I’d just assumed she’d been happy about it. He was an asshole after all, right? But I wondered if she had known someone I hadn’t, if maybe he hadn’t always been a drunk loser. I didn’t ask though. It didn’t seem like she really wanted to talk about it and I wasn’t going to push her. Maybe at one time she did miss my father, but I didn’t think that was the case anymore. I think we both reached a place of acceptance where he was concerned and re-hashing that history would only make things messy.
So I just nodded. “I know you don’t like Kellen.”
“It’s not that I don’t like him, I just don’t think he’s right for you.”
How would you know? You don’t know me.
I wanted to say this, but in order for my mom to get to know me, I had to not jump down her throat.
Deep breaths, Carson. Deep breaths.
“He is right for me,” I said simply. “And I love him. Even if we’re not together now, even if we never end up together again, it doesn’t change the fact that I love him.”
My mom cleared her throat and I could feel my fangs coming out. “I’m trying to be honest with you,” I said, my eyes narrowing slightly.
My mom pulled back a little. “But you’re so young, Carson. How could you know what love is?”
“You can hate it all you want, Mom, but it’s true,” I said. “I might be young but I know how I feel. I know how he made me feel – safe and secure and beautiful and… loved.”
What seemed like a century passed before my mom opened her mouth. “Okay,” she finally said.
I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Okay?”
“I don’t fully understand it,” she said, “but I’m trying to, Carson. I’m trying.”
I guess that was the best I could ask for.
“Okay,” I said slowly. I was up most of last night thinking. I’d thought about Kellen and Tony of course, and I’d thought about what Lena said about talking to my mom before it was too late. Life was simultaneously too short and too long. There wasn’t enough time to hold back from doing the things you wanted to do, but there was also too much time to spend at war with yourself over not taking the chances you wanted to take. After having this highly profound thought session at three in the morning, I’d made a decision. “So there’s something I want to do and I’m not sure that you’re going to be happy about it.”
My mom put a hand to her forehead and I could see her body tense. Maybe that hadn’t been the best way to start.
“I want to get a tattoo,” I said, deciding that beating around the bush was probably just going to further raise her blood pressure.
“Absolutely not.”
“Mom, just hear me out,” I said, holding my hands up. “I’m not getting Kellen’s name or a heart with our initials in it or anything like that. I just want to get something meaningful, something that symbolizes everything I’ve been through and how far I’ve come.”
I could see her steely eyes soften ever so slightly so I decided to toss in my final argument.
“I’ll be eighteen soon, Mom. I’m going to get this tattoo eventually, with or without you. I just really wanted it to be something you did with me.”
I saw her weighing the situation in her head. She knew I was right. If I wanted to cover every inch of my skin in ink when I turned eighteen, I could. I think she was afraid that’s just what I’d do if she refused to go with me.
“I think you’re being impulsive, Carson,” she says.
I shook my head. “I’ve wanted one for a while, I just finally decided what it is I want.”
“What about when you get older? Have you thought about how it’s going to look then?”
“I’m going to think it looks like I lived when I was young,” I said. “And one thing that’s really just hit me is we never know how long we actually have here, so we might as well live now.”
My mom sat there, thinking.
“I’m not going to change my mind, Mom.”
I waited.
And waited.
“Fine,” she finally said.
“Fine?” I asked. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” she said. “If this is something you’re set on doing then I’d rather be there. I don’t need you going to some scratcher’s house.”
“Scratcher?”
“It’s a person that doesn’t know what they’re doing and has no business tattooing. You’re not planning to go to someone’s house are you? Is the place clean? Are the needles sterile?”
My head was spinning.
“How do you know so much about this stuff?” I asked.
My mom exhaled deeply, stood up, and turned around. She lifted her shirt a little so I could see her lower back, which happened to be decorated with the words “Born too be Wild.” I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Oh my God,” I said, putting my hand over my mouth. “When did you get that?”
“When I was eighteen,” she said, glancing back at me. I could see that her face was flushed. “I was drunk and my friends and I decided tattoos were a good idea. When I woke up the next day and remembered what I did, I almost died. I spent the next three days doing as much research as I could about tattoos to make sure my skin wouldn’t fall off.”
Drunk? Tattoos? Born to be wild?
Well, born too be wild.
“Who are you and what have you done to my mother?”
My mom dropped her shirt over the tattoo and sat back down.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Carson.”
“Apparently,” I said. “You do know your tattoo is grammatically incorrect, right?”
“Did you want to get a tattoo today or not?” she asked.
“I do,” I said, standing up. I hadn’t been expecting to go that day and I was thinking the only reason we were was because my mom was trying to get the attention off of her. I wondered if she regretted showing me the evidence of her glory days.
My mom and I made our way out to the car and I realized it was the first time in forever that we were doing something together that didn’t involve a therapist or high school administration. It made me smile.
“So,” I started as I buckled up, “are there any other tattoos I should know about? Hidden piercings, maybe?”
My mom cleared her throat. “Which way to the place?”
I grinned. I never knew my mom had been such a wild child. I guess we had more in common than I ever thought.
“That way,” I said. “But first I need to stop and get some chicken nuggets.”
Chapter 46
Begin Again
It’s not the words or pictures
That are forever
But the memories behind them
I loved
I lost
I broke apart
I fell down
But like the leaves of a tree
Coming back after a harsh winter
I will begin again
My mom stopped by the fast food restaurant at my request and as we drove away she asked, “What are the chicken nuggets for?”
“You’ll see,” I said.
We almost reached the shop when she asked, “What is the tattoo going to be anyways?”
“You’ll see,” I said again, grinning. “But I promise there’s no spelling involved.”
My mom stopped the car right there in the middle of the road. “Carson, if you don’t give me some kind of idea about what exactly I’m going to be looking at for the rest of my life then I’m turning this car around right now.”
So I told her. Even I knew when I’d pushed one too many buttons.
Charlotte the Piercer was sitting at the front desk when we walked into the shop,. She looked up at the sound of the door.
“Hey,” she said, giving me a sad smile. I knew she remembered me.
“Hey,�
� I said. “Is Roscoe here?”
Charlotte nodded and gestured for me to come closer. “He’s in his room,” she whispered when I got to the counter. “He’s taking it… what happened… he’s taking it pretty hard. He was always saying how much he liked Tony.”
Charlotte was getting choked up and I understood why. That little boy had touched so many lives.
“Can I see him?” I whispered back.
“Maybe you can get through to him,” she said. “I really wish Kellen would stop by, but he hasn’t been here since that day you guys came in.”
“Kellen hasn’t come in?”
That wasn’t a good sign. I’d thought for sure that he would’ve come there. The fact that he hadn’t gone to get a tattoo made me even more worried that he was using other means to cope with his pain.
I pushed those thoughts aside for the time being and led my mom to Roscoe’s room. He was sitting in his chair, staring at the wall. I knocked on the door frame twice and he spun around, startled by the noise.
“Carson,” he said when he saw me.
“Hi,” I said. I gestured to my mom. “This is my mom.”
“Hello,” he said. My mom just kind of nodded her head awkwardly. “Come on in,” he added.
I walked over and slid into the big tattoo chair that Kellen had sat in. My mom sunk into one in the corner of the room.
“Charlotte seems worried about you,” I said.
“I haven’t tattooed since… you know.” Roscoe stared off at some pictures on his wall, but I knew he wasn’t actually seeing them. His lips twitched up slightly. “Figures it’d take something like this for Charlotte to realize she’s in love with me.”
We both fell silent for a minute. Then he asked, “How are you doing?”
I thought about saying “fine” or “better” but that would be a lie and there was no point in lying to Roscoe. “Not good,” I said.
“Me either. I feel kind of lost, you know?”
“I know. It doesn’t seem fair.”
“It’s not. He was like my little bro.” Roscoe’s eyes went a little glassy, but he blinked hard, fighting back the tears. “I remember the first time Kellen brought him here. He was like six-years-old and just walked in declaring that he wanted a tattoo. Kellen told him there was a height requirement but I told him I’d make an exception, just for him.” Roscoe laughed lightly. “So I took a temporary superhero tattoo out of my drawer and stuck it on his hand. Every time someone came in he ran up to them and yelled ‘look at my tattoo!’”
I smiled. “The day I met him he was asking his mom when he could get a tattoo,” I said, remembering that day. I’d been so scared to meet Kellen’s family. Now I’d give anything to be in a room with all of them again.
“I was supposed to give him his first real tattoo when he got older,” Roscoe said, his voice growing sad. “I promised him I would.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. I looked at those words differently now. It wasn’t always just an empty statement. Sometimes you physically couldn’t do anything to change the situation, but you still wanted the person to know that you were sorry it happened and that you were there for them.
There was another long pause, then Roscoe sniffed the air. “I smell chicken nuggets.”
I handed him the bag. “I kind of wanted to get a tattoo,” I said. “But if you can’t do it today then it’s okay.”
“I can give you a tattoo,” he said. “For you, I can do it.” He stuffed a whole chicken nugget in his mouth and I wondered how long it’d been since he’d eaten. Avoiding food seemed to be a recurring theme among those of us that were close to Tony. Maybe grief eats away your stomach until you forget that your body needs nutrients to survive. “What were you thinking of getting?”
“A little bicycle,” I said. “On my foot.”
Roscoe smiled for real this time. “When life knocks you down you gotta get back on the bike.”
“Something like that,” I said.
Roscoe hopped up from his chair. “Give me a minute to draw it and I’ll be right back.”
I could feel the difference in Roscoe’s energy when he left to get the tattoo ready. He had a fire and determination that hadn’t been there when I’d walked in. The difference was even more visible when he put his machine down and started wrapping my foot up an hour later.
“Thank you.”
“No problem, chica,” Roscoe said.
I pulled some cash out of my pocket and held it out to him, but he waved it away.
“You’re not paying for this,” he said. “This one’s for Tony.”
I smiled at him. “I’ll be back again soon with more chicken nuggets.”
“That’s all I ask.”
I turned to my mom, who actually seemed to be in a pleasant mood. “Ready to go?” I asked.
She nodded and stood up.
“Hey, Carson, can I talk to you real quick?” Roscoe asked.
I looked over at my mom. “Go ahead,” she said. “I’ll meet you in the car.”
“What’s up?” I asked when it was just us.
“Have you seen Kellen at all?” he asked.
That seemed to be the question of the month.
“No,” I said. “I haven’t.”
Roscoe shook his head. “That kid’s been through a lot, but one thing he always did was come in for a tattoo. He said it was a version of therapy.”
“I miss him,” I said. “So much has changed though, maybe even more than I know. I’m not sure if he feels the same way about me anymore.”
Roscoe opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “I don’t know if I should say this because I’m not sure if it’s going to make you feel better or worse,” he started. When I didn’t stop him, he continued. “I’ve known Kellen for a long time and I never saw him happier than the day he brought you here.”
I could feel tears start to form in my eyes. “Thanks, Roscoe,” I said. “He really helped me through a dark time.”
Roscoe grew serious. “I have a feeling it might be your turn to help him,” he said. “You guys were really good together and if you can get through this then I have a feeling you’ll be really great together.”
I gave Roscoe a hug, which was apparently becoming my thing, and whispered, “Take that newly returned groove of yours and use it to tell Charlotte how you feel. For real,” I said. “Don’t wait.”
“I know,” he said. “Believe me, I know.”
When I got out to the car my mom was actually smiling. It was weird how it ended up being a bonding experience for us. On the list of things I’d ever thought might bring my mom and I together, tattoos fell somewhere between biker gangs and fire-breathing turtles. “So,” she said. “Did it hurt?”
I looked down at my foot and shook my head. “I’ve felt worse,” I said.
Sure it hurt. There’d been a needle jabbing my skin, of course it hurt. The thing was though, it was a pain that finally matched what I’d been feeling on the inside for a long time – a dull, consistent pain with bursts of sharp intense pain. The tattoo didn’t take any of that internal pain away, but it did show me that I was capable of pushing through the things that hurt.
A bicycle brought the boy I loved into my life, and it also took another little boy that I loved out of my life. I knew that this tattoo had the potential to make me smile or cry when I looked at it in the future. Just like Kellen, I was putting my pain on me for the world to see, and I finally got it. I finally understood what it was like to have hope that things could get better after being the worst they’d ever been.
I looked down at my foot one more time, my own little forever mark wrapped up and healing into my skin. I knew Roscoe was right. It was my turn to save Kellen from himself.
Chapter 47
The Battle
When every day is a battle
Sometimes you lose track of who you’re fighting
Is it them?
Or is it you?
Are you the one throwing knives an
d shooting bullets?
The same knives and bullets that you’re dodging?
When every day is a battle
For yourself
And with yourself
You forget what it feels like
To fight for someone else
When we got home the first thing I did was call Lena to find out if Kellen was home.
“He was here for about five minutes,” she said. “But then he left again. When I asked where he was going he just said ‘out.’”
“Don’t worry, Lena,” I said. I wanted to take all of her anxiety away. “I’m going to fix this.”
“How?” she asked.
“Trust me,” I said, before hanging up.
I just really hoped I could pull through.
“Hey, Mom,” I called, walking into the kitchen. “Do you mind if I borrow the car?”
My mom was sitting at the table, staring at nothing in particular. “Sure,” she said, with a smile. I hesitated for a moment. I hadn’t been expecting her to be quite so quick to fork over her keys. I’d been prepared for a debate, but she seemed to be in a happy little daze. Maybe it was because she was reminiscing about her youth. Maybe it was because we’d spent an afternoon together that didn’t involve one of us ripping our hair out. Either way, I shook off my initial shock and happily snatched the keys out of her hand before she could change her mind.
“Be careful, Carson,” she said as I reached for the door. I turned around and the look on my mom’s face told me she wasn’t as distracted as I’d thought. I think she knew what I was about to do.
“I will,” I said. “And Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
I watched as my mom’s face softened. Her eyes sparkled and I wondered if she was going to cry. Instead, she smiled. “I love you too, Carson.”
My mom and I weren’t perfect – we were far from it – but as I headed out to the car I couldn’t help but feel that something big had changed between us. The wide fissure that had been separating us for years seemed to be shrinking little by little. I knew it was going to take work, but at that moment I also knew in my heart that my past relationship with my mom didn’t matter to me as much. One day we’d be able to look back on this from the same side, having closed that once monstrous gap.
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