by Stacy M Wray
I shrug. “I still don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing though.”
She pats my cheek and says, “It will come, dear. Don’t rush life. Just pay attention to the signs along the way.”
I look around at all the supplies sitting around her. “Do you paint as a hobby, or is this how you’ve made your living?”
“I’ve supported myself for the last fifteen years selling my watercolors since my husband passed away unexpectedly. I have a friend who sells them at her shop. But I’ve been all over the south, painting anything I see fit. That’s the luxury of my passion – I can fill my canvas anywhere. And I create on my own time. My job (she uses her fingers to indicate quotes) has no clock or calendar and that’s important to me.” She sighs. “I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
The joy for her craft shines through her eyes and I envy her. Someday I want to get to where I can live like she does. I’m sure she paid her dues once but she’s living her dream, and I can’t help but be happy for her.
We chat for a while longer when I notice the time on my phone. Jeremy’s probably already at our meeting spot.
I thank my new friend for her time, and she wishes me luck on our trip and in life.
Her words tumble around in my head and I’m thinking Jeremy’s wandering around a museum couldn’t have been half as fulfilling as my time spent with the talented artist.
As I stroll down the sidewalk, and in Charleston you absolutely stroll, I wonder if my grandma ever walked along this very sidewalk. I texted my mom earlier to see if she could get me the address of the house my grandma grew up as a child. I received it while I was chatting with my new artist friend. I want to drive by before we leave today.
I spot Jeremy leaning against a tree, swiping the screen of his phone. When he looks up and spots me, he juts his chin in my direction. “Hey. I was just about to call you.”
“No need.” I look around us, trying to decide what we should do next.
“I found out if we just walk a few blocks that way,” he points down the street, “we’ll run right into the coast.”
My eyes get big and I can’t contain my grin. “Well, let’s go.”
It only takes about twenty minutes to reach the water, which blows my mind. It’s breathtaking. The waves crash against the stone retainer wall we’re standing on, and I can’t get enough pictures. The vastness is amazing, the ocean going on for miles and miles, no end in sight. It makes me feel so small, insignificant.
Jeremy’s stomach growling sends us on our way to find good ol’ southern cooking.
Within the next hour, we’ve filled our bellies and while Jeremy drives, I navigate us to my grandma’s former home. It’s a tiny yellow house that sits way back from the road. I try to imagine her playing in the front yard, knowing she must have had quite a childhood in such a quaint city surrounded by the warmth of good people.
As Jeremy heads the car north, I feel content with our stop in Charleston. No, there weren’t any fireworks, festivals or karaoke contests. But sometimes a quiet journey down a cobblestone street is just what the soul requires.
chapter twenty-seven
July 2008
After staying the night in North Carolina, we traveled all day to Cleveland, Ohio, getting there early evening. There’s some convention going on and we find there’s only one room left at a swanky hotel downtown. We break one of our rules and share a room. Technically, I guess we’ve already done that, just not in a hotel.
Entering the room, I’m at least thankful for two beds. We place our bags down and check out the view.
“Look, Jeremy…” He saunters across the room and joins me at the window. “What a view, huh?”
“Wow. I love being in a big city.” He turns and picks up his bag. “I’m gonna take a quick shower.”
Plopping on the bed, I pick up the remote control to the TV, flipping through all of the movie channels. I stop on Forrest Gump, the part showing him in the army, recovering from his bullet wound to the buttocks. Then he’s playing Ping-Pong, and, dammit if that doesn’t bring my phone call with Braden from last night to the forefront of my mind.
He called as soon as I had gotten settled in after taking a quick shower, washing off the bleh after being in the car all day. “Hey,” I told him. “Good timing…I just got settled in for the night.”
“Hey,” he said back. But there’s some guilt in his voice, making my stomach drop. I slowly sat on the edge of the burgundy and gold bedspread that adorned the lumpy mattress I’d be sleeping on shortly.
My words were caught in my throat as I waited for him to continue. I didn’t like the vibe he was sending through my phone, hoping it was just paranoia on my part.
“I wanted to apologize for the other night. I was kinda drunk when you called, and I’m sure it sent all kinds of wrong messages to you.”
My knee bounced up and down, my nerves frayed at the edges. “What kind of message did you think you sent?”
He let out a huge sigh and said nothing for a minute. “I just don’t want you to think anything happened with that girl – the one who hung up on you and tried to take my phone.”
Maybe my paranoia’s right on. “What’s her deal, Braden?” My tone was clipped but I didn’t give a shit.
“Look…nothing happened, okay? She wanted it to…but nothing happened. I promise.”
She wanted it to? Why in the hell did he have to over share? My mind conjured up many scenarios and I wished I had been in the shower when he called.
“Shit, Karma…say something.” I heard the frustration in his voice, but I don’t think he realized how this was sounding.
“What do you want me to say? You’re basically calling me to tell me while you were drunk someone tried to get you to have sex with them? And I’m supposed to say something to make you feel better?”
“What? No! And she only tried to kiss me – ”
“Oh! And I’m supposed to feel better about that?” My insides churned as if I’d just been fed the biggest helping of bullshit. Was this the shit I had to worry about from here on out?
“Look, I can’t control the actions of other people, Karma,” he said, defensively. “It didn’t happen and that’s all that matters.”
“And what about next time? Are you going to stop her the next time? Or the time after that? Is this girl someone you see on a regular basis, Braden?” My voice sounded frantic. Guess I wasn’t over it.
“Shit…” he hissed out. “Yeah, she runs in the same circles as my roommate but there won’t be a next time, Karma. She knows I’m with someone.”
“I’ll bet she knew you had a girlfriend before she tried to kiss you, Braden. Sorry but I know how girls like her operate – she’ll just keep trying until she wears you down.”
He said nothing, like he knew I was right. I felt sick to my stomach because I wasn’t with him to defend what’s mine. I had never felt so far from him ever.
“If your intention was to put me at ease then your phone skills suck. You’ve managed to do quite the opposite.”
“Karma…I’m sorry. You have nothing to worry about on my end. You’ve got to know that…”
Frustrated tears made their way to the surface, and I was so glad we weren’t on Skype right then. “But I’m not there, Braden…”
“But you will be…we just have to hang on. You have to trust me, okay? I trust you. You don’t think I wonder all of the time about Jeremy trying to put the moves on my girl? It drives me bat-shit crazy thinking about that.”
I scoffed at his comment. “Jeremy’s been the perfect gentleman – he’s not made even the slightest of moves. You have nothing to worry about, Braden, I assure you.”
“But I do worry…how am I supposed to focus on anything knowing you’re with another guy twenty-four seven?”
“Don’t…just don’t. Don’t you dare try to shift the focus. My situation has had no one coming onto anyone. Seems I can’t say the same for your situation, now can I?”
I paced around my small room, walking twenty steps from one end to the other then starting back. The silence was killing me and I wondered what he was thinking. Finally, he said, “I just hate being apart from you, Karma.”
I hated it, too, but there’s nothing we could do. It’s his soccer keeping us apart but I wouldn’t throw that in his face. “I know.”
“I just miss you so fucking much. I need to touch you. I need to hold you.” His voice was gravelly and thick. It made me wish he were there to put his arms around me.
Jeremy pops out of the bathroom. “All yours.”
Pushing the phone call out of mind, I get up and grab my toiletries, heading into the bathroom.
After a quick shower, I halfway dry my hair, pulling it back so I don’t have to mess with it. Jeremy and I are eager to see the city.
We stop at a BBQ place to eat before wandering up and down the city street.
I stop to look in a store window, not realizing Jeremy didn’t notice and kept walking. Before I could catch back up to him, I see him stop and look all around with panic etched across his face. When he finally sees me approaching him, he walks and grabs my hand. “Jesus, Karma, you scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry…” I tell him.
We approach a store window when the words photography art catches my eye. Covering the window on the door hangs a bright cardstock poster, and I tug on Jeremy’s hand, wanting him to stop. I feel him behind me, knowing he’s reading the same thing.
It explains that they hold a daily contest on any category of photography. All photos submitted by ten a.m. may be entered in the competition. The winner, announced at five, secures the cash collected from the entries that day.
I look at Jeremy with confusion on my face. “I’m not sure I understand.”
He opens the door. “Let’s find out.”
People are inside the store milling around, studying the pictures and casting their votes. A lady sees us enter and says, “Come on in – only a few more minutes until the voting’s closed.”
“Excuse me,” Jeremy says, “but how does all of this work?”
Smiling wide, she asks, “From out of town?” We both nod.
“We get a lot of that which is why the contest only lasts a day – a lot of foot traffic up and down this street. Entry fee is twenty dollars, of which ten goes to me and ten goes towards the prize money. Some days we get as few as twenty entries, and we’ve gotten up around fifty before – depending on the crowd.”
She looks around the room and says, “Today we got thirty-two so you do the math. Not bad for one day’s work, huh?”
Jeremy stays and listens to her spiel while I walk around the room and study the pictures taken by amateurs such as myself. Many photos exude mediocrity, but a few really stick out to me and I cast a vote for a photo of a little girl who looks like she’s just been crying – there’s something haunting in her eyes captured by the artist.
I meet back up with Jeremy and ask him, “Ready?”
He nods and we leave the store. As soon as we’re on the sidewalk again, he pulls me back to him and says, “You’ve got to enter, Karma.”
“What? The contest?” I look back at the door we just walked out.
“Yes, the contest. I know you’ve taken some great shots. Surely there’s one you could enter.”
A nervous energy rolls through me as I say, “Even if I did, I don’t have a print of anything.”
“We’ll find a photo store first thing in the morning – we just need to have your entry at the store before ten.”
As I’m thinking it over, he quickly adds, “I’ll even pay the entry fee – that’s how much I believe you can win.”
Pressing my lips together, trying to contain my excitement, I say, “Why not? Can’t hurt to try.”
He grins at me. “That’s my girl. Come on, let’s do some more sight-seeing.”
We come upon a tattoo shop and it catches Jeremy’s attention. He gets a twinkle in his eye and he pulls me inside. “Are you seriously going to get a tattoo?”
He shrugs and says, “Maybe.”
After flipping through several books, he sees something he likes and tells the girl behind the counter. She tells him Tom will ink him and escorts Jeremy back to the chair. My eyes are as big as saucers, not believing he’s getting inked.
Jeremy sits in the chair and I hear the girl say, “Your girlfriend can come back and watch if she wants.”
“Karma!”
I walk back to where he’s lying in the chair. “You want to watch?”
I grin at him. “Sure. You might need me to hold your hand,” I tease.
“Doubtful,” he says.
“Tom will be right with you,” she tells him and leaves to go back up front.
I look at Jeremy and ask him, “Are you nervous?”
“Nope.”
Tom walks in and says, “So what can I draw on you today?”
Jeremy tells him the number from the book and Tom looks it up. “Nice,” he says. “Where do you want it?”
“Left pec.” He slips his shirt off and throws it towards me, my right hand catching it in midair.
I watch Tom finish in utter fascination as he inks Jeremy with a circle of black flames, taking up almost his whole pec muscle.
When he’s all finished, Tom hands Jeremy a mirror to look at his artwork and looks up at me and asks, “You want one?”
Without even thinking, I say, “Maybe something small?”
Jeremy’s eyes go wide as he listens to the words fall out of my mouth.
Tom covers Jeremy’s tattoo with a bandage telling him to leave it on for a few hours, then hands me a book of ideas.
I toss Jeremy his shirt as I look through the book Tom just handed me. “See if there’s anything that catches your eye. I’ll be right back.”
“Karma, you don’t have to get one,” Jeremy tells me.
“I know but I think I want one.” I’ve always loved the subtle tattoos I’ve seen on other girls: tiny four-leaf clovers, hummingbirds, dragonflies, or a small grouping of stars.
When I’m about halfway through the book, I see what I want and show Jeremy.
“Good choice,” he says, getting up out of the chair and putting his shirt back on. I lie back in the chair Jeremy just vacated and wait for Tom to come back.
Jeremy eyes me and says, “You sure about this?”
I nod and wish Tom would get back in here before I change my mind.
“How bad does it hurt?” I ask Jeremy, “and tell me the truth.”
“It stings pretty good – I’m not gonna lie.”
Tom walks in and sees me lying in the chair. “You find one?”
I point to the picture and he says, “Perfect. Where at?” and I point to the inside of my left wrist.
He sets everything up and moves to my left side. When he starts on the outline, I flinch at the sting and he stops and looks at Jeremy. “You might want to hold your girl’s other hand to keep her calm.”
Jeremy smirks and walks to my right, clutching my hand in his. “Squeeze away, Hippie Girl.”
I’m amused they think we’re a couple and neither one of us corrects them.
Our fingers interlock tightly. Mine more than his. There may even be crescent-shaped indentations involved before the task is finished; on Jeremy that is. But he doesn’t look put out. He holds on tried and true. Sort of how he’s been this whole trip – by my side and loyal.
When the drill stops, I open my eyes and look down at the delicate black lotus flower that’s permanently etched right below the palm of my hand. I try to envision it without my skin being red, swollen and angry as hell I just allowed it to be attacked by a needle. Not only do I love the flower, but I also chose it because it symbolizes new beginnings. That’s me. I’m a new beginning. I have been ever since I left my driveway six days, twelve hours and forty-two minutes ago.
“What do you think?” Tom asks me.
“It’s perfect – thank you.”
As soon as we’re out the door, Jeremy says, “I can’t believe you just did that.”
I can’t quit smiling and say, “I can’t believe it either.”
After more wandering, we head back towards our hotel. Jeremy notices a neon sign jutting out from a storefront, replicating a camera. Turning, he waggles his eyebrows. “That might be where we can get a print made for the contest.” Placing his hand on the small of my back, he urges me to move a little faster than my tired legs want to. “Come on – let’s check inside.”
Standing under the glow of the neon sign, we look past all of the cameras, cases, lenses and flashes and see a kiosk where we can indeed make a print. The bright red banner on top tells us what we want to know: prints in under an hour. The prints may not be the best quality but we’ll make do.
Jeremy glances at the hours hanging on the front door. “Looks like we’ll be here at eight.”
We reach our hotel in a couple more blocks, my feet yelling at me for the poor shoe choice. I grab my camera and climb on my bed. Jeremy plunks down beside me. Sitting side by side with our backs against the headboard, I hold the camera between us. I’m showing Jeremy all the pictures I’ve taken so far.
“These are really good, Karma. You’ve really got a great eye.”
Thanking him, I turn off the camera and place it on the stand beside the bed, trying to decide which picture to choose.
Jeremy taps on the gauze bandage that covers my impulsive decision. “Who’s going to care that you did that?”
“My parents won’t care – they both have one,” I tell him matter-of-factly. My mom has a peace sign on her hip and my dad has an eagle on his back. They’ll just consider it a cool souvenir representing a moment in my life that meant something.