Tattoos and TaTas (Chocoholics #2.5)

by Tara Sivec

“He left five minutes ago, cranky ass,” I reminded her.

  Claire had been in labor for exactly one hour. ONE HOUR and she was already losing her shit. I feared for anyone within a mile radius of this woman when she actually had to start pushing that thing out of her.

  “Come on, it can’t hurt that bad,” I joked, dodging out of the way when her hand flew up to smack me. “I’m kidding! Jesus, you know I’m kidding. Lighten up, dude. After today, you’ll finally be able to see your feet. And just think of all the booze you can drink in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep because he’s screaming his fool head off.”

  Claire started to curse at me, but thankfully another contraction ripped through her and she had to concentrate on breathing instead of kicking my ass.

  I grabbed onto her hand and let her squeeze the life out of it, watching the contraction monitor next to her bed and letting her know when it was almost over.

  “You’re doing good, keep breathing, just a few more seconds.”

  When it passed, she let out a huge sigh and slumped back against her pillows.

  She turned her head and stared at me, tears filling her eyes. “I’m so scared, Liz.”

  I knew immediately she wasn’t talking about the whole pushing a human out of her body-thing. While that thought was scary and more than a little bit gross, I knew she was thinking about what happened after he was here. She was a strong woman who could handle a few hours of pain, but I could tell just by looking at her that she was second-guessing her ability to be a mom.

  “You’re going to be fine. He’s going to come out and he’s going to be perfect and you’re going to be FINE. It’s going to suck for a while and you’re going to miss out on a lot of sleep and you’ll probably never take another uninterrupted shower or piss again, but it’s going to be okay, I promise you. You are amazing and you’re strong and you’re going to get through this. You’ve got me and Jim and your father and we’re going to be there every step of the way. No matter what you’re worrying about right now, just remember that you aren’t alone. You will never be alone. I’ve got you, babe.”

  Another contraction hit and I stood up, brushing her hair off of her face and helping her count through the pain. I felt so helpless that I couldn’t make the pain go away, but it didn’t matter. For the first time in our lives, this was something she had to do on her own. All I could do was be there for her and help her any way I could. I decided that humor was always the best medicine. I couldn’t take the pain from her, but I could make her laugh.

  “So, have you thought about how horrific your vagina is going to look after you push that little guy out? Like meat curtains flapping in the breeze every time you walk. Man, your poor vagina.”

  Claire attempted to call me an asshole, but she couldn’t get the words out. She started laughing instead. “Oh, my God! It’s going to look like a wilted, roast beef sandwich.”

  “Jesus, I’m never going to be able to eat at Arby’s again. Thank you for THAT visual,” I told her with a shudder. “On the bright side, it could be a great pick-up line. ‘Hey, there hot stuff. Do you like beef? I’ve got some in my pants just for you.’”

  Claire rested her hands on her huge stomach as she continued laughing. “Vagina, the other white meat.”

  “Beefy vagina: it’s what’s for dinner!” I shouted.

  The doctor chose that moment to walk in the room. He looked at both of us, laughing so hard we were crying and I shrugged my shoulders. “Just giving her a little encouragement, Doctor. Would you like to place your vagina bet? I’ve got ten to one odds right now that her vagina will resemble ground zero of a bomb blast. What say you?”

  The doctor ignored us, pulling the privacy curtain around the bed to block the doorway. “I’m just going to check on you and see how things are progressing. How are the contractions?”

  “They hurt like a motherfucker,” Claire told him honestly.

  “Good, good. That means things are moving along.”

  I quickly reached over and grabbed onto Claire’s legs when I saw a look of murder in her eyes. She was about one second away from kicking the good doctor in the face.

  Once he got the blanket pushed up over her knees, he snapped on a pair of rubber gloves and went to town between my friend’s legs.

  “Don’t look. Whatever you do, you are NOT allowed to look down there,” Claire threatened.

  She winced at whatever the doctor was doing and I winced right back in sympathy. “No need for that warning. I wasn’t about to stick my head down there to get a look at the crime scene you’ve got going on between your legs.”

  The curtain suddenly slid open. “Who wants a grape Popsicle?!”

  Claire and I both looked up at Jim and watched the smile on his face fall.

  “Oh, no,” he muttered as the Popsicle dropped out of his hand and hit the floor.

  “OH, MY GOD! GET OUT! STOP LOOKING!” Claire and I both shouted at the same time.

  My poor fiancé didn’t budge.

  “Monster. Help. Popsicle scary,” he mumbled.

  Claire tried to close her legs but the doctor was knee deep in vagina and there was nothing she could do.

  “GET OUT RIGHT NOW!” we both screamed in unison again.

  His eyes were glazed over at this point and I was thanking God we were in a hospital because I was pretty sure he was going to pass out any minute now.

  “I like Popsicles. And puppies. Just think about puppies,” he muttered to himself.

  When I realized that my poor man was in a pregnant woman vagina daze-slash-nightmare, I took action. I hustled around to the end of the bed and stood in front of him, blocking his view.

  “Breathe, Jim. BREATHE!” I reminded him.

  He took a huge breath and finally blinked. “I’m just gonna leave.”

  I nodded at him and turned him around, pushing him back towards the door. “That’s a great idea, honey. How about you just go back into the waiting room with Claire’s dad and never, ever step foot in this room again, okay?”

  “Never step foot in this room again?” he questioned as I walked him to the door.

  “That’s right, never step foot in this room again. Good boy.”

  I patted him on the back and shoved him into the hallway, closing the door to the room behind me before going back to Claire’s bedside.

  “Your future husband saw my vagina,” Claire stated.

  “Better him than me.”

  The doctor stood up, pulling his gloves off and tossing them into the trash next to the bed. “Well, you haven’t dilated at all, but it’s still early. We’re going to put a fetal heart monitor on the baby just to make sure he’s handling the contractions okay and I’m going to have one of the nurses give you some Pitocin to try and move things along. I’ll come back to check on you in a little while.”

  A few hours later, long after the Pitocin and Claire threatening to kill everyone who came near her, the doctor decided it was time for an emergency C-section. Claire was scared to death. I was scared to death. Everything started happening so fast at that point. Doctors and nurses were running around, making calls and before we knew it, Claire was being wheeled out of her room and down the hall to the operating room.

  I jogged next to her bed and never let go of her hand the entire way. I knew she was freaking out and I didn’t know what the hell to do other than make sure she understood that I’d always be here for her.

  “You’re not going to leave, right?” Claire asked when we got into the brightly lit OR and they transferred her to another bed.

  I squeezed her hand tighter as one of the nurses handed me a pair of scrubs and a hospital mask. “I’m never going to leave you. I’m going to be here the entire time. It’s just you and me, Claire, you and me.”

  She nodded her head as the nurses started putting up sheets around her body so we couldn’t see what was going on below her chest.

  “You and me,” she agreed.

  “You can do this. You’ve totally go
t this. It’s going to be over soon and Gavin is going to be here and he’s going to be healthy and perfect and we’re going to start teaching him how to swear before he shits his pants for the first time.”

  Claire laughed and I quickly threw on the scrubs over my clothes and took my seat next to Claire’s bed.

  Right at that moment, I knew that I would do anything for my best friend. I would hold her hand when she was in pain, scream at my catatonic fiancé when he saw her vagina and sit by her side when she became a mom. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her and I knew that’s how it would always be.

  “I HAVE LAURIE running things at the bakery for the next six weeks and you don’t have any weddings or big events coming up, so I think she can handle it. Jenny is going to take over ordering baking supplies and she’s going to help Laurie and your two part-time girls do all the baking,” I explain, going down the list of items I put in my notepad app on my phone. “If any big orders come in, we can always get some more help in, but I think we’ll be fine. We’ll have to put the Friday Freebie cupcake sale on hold for the time being, but I don’t think too many people will mind.”

  Claire grabs my cell phone out of my hand and I finally look up at her. I wish I hadn’t. I wish I still had my phone in my hand to give me something else to stare at, something to keep myself occupied so I don’t have to see what is happening to her. I’m a shitty friend and an even shittier person because I can’t bear to look at my best friend and see what the chemo has done to her hair. Every time she runs her fingers through her hair or brushes up against the back of the couch, more strands come out, but she just shrugs her shoulders like it’s no big deal. One round of chemo almost three weeks ago and she’s already losing her hair. She still has five more rounds to go and I’m scared to death she’s just going to keep fading away until there’s nothing left of her.

  “I’ve hired some extra help at my store so I’ll be able to pop over to your side as much as I want,” I continue. “We were supposed to do that interview with the local television station next week, but I called them and told them to postpone it. I’ll keep a file with all your invoices and bring them over when you need to sign something so you won’t need to—”

  “Will you shut up already?” Claire interrupts. “Stop talking about work when we both know there’s something a little more important we need to discuss.”

  I shake my head and grab my phone back from her. “No, it’s fine. We don’t need to talk about it. You don’t need to think about it. We can just talk about fun things like work and how Jenny has decided to start breeding ferrets now that the kids are in college and she’s bored.”

  “As disturbing as that is, I don’t want to talk about the damn ferrets,” Claire tells me. “Wait, she was serious about breeding ferrets?”

  I nod my head. “You don’t even want to know where she got that idea. There’s something called Fur Fest that she and Drew want to attend and she thinks she needs to breed something exotic and furry in order to fit in. I Googled Fur Fest. I can never get back those five minutes. So anyway, things are running smoothly at the shop and I don’t foresee any issues with—”

  Claire reaches over and presses her hand over my mouth.

  “Stop. Talking. About. Work. I had a double mastectomy four weeks ago and a round of chemo that is kicking my ass and I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen you during all of this. I get it; it’s scary. What I don’t get is why you won’t even fucking talk about it with me.”

  I move my face away from her hand and get up from the couch to pace around the room. I can’t sit still for this. I need to keep moving or I’m going to completely break down and that’s not what she needs right now.

  “You need to accept the fact that this is happening. It’s real. You can’t keep pretending like everything is okay,” she tells me softly.

  I stop pacing and make myself look in her general direction. It hurts too much to look right at her—my best friend, so small and tired and run down, sitting on the couch with blankets tucked around her as her beautiful brown hair is quickly disappearing. “I’m trying, Claire. I don’t want to talk about it all the time and keep reminding you about what’s happening.”

  Claire throws her hands up in the air in irritation. “You don’t think I’m reminded of this fucking disease every damn time I take a breath or look in the mirror? Every time I open my eyes, every time I MOVE it’s there, trying to bring me down. It’s all I fucking think about and you pretending like it’s not real is what’s really killing me.”

  Her words cut right through me and I can’t help but gasp.

  “Jesus Christ, you just compared me to…”

  “CANCER! Fucking say it, Liz. I compared you to cancer. I have cancer. You can’t even fucking say it!” Claire screams.

  “NO! I can’t fucking say it because you’re right! I don’t want it to be real. I don’t want this to be happening right now. I don’t want you to be sick. I can’t stand the fact that there is absolutely NOTHING I can do to make this better!” I shout back.

  She flings the blankets off of her and gets up from the couch, stalking over to me.

  “You still don’t get it! This isn’t about YOU! You can’t fix it, you can’t make it better, you don’t know what to say, you don’t know what to do. YOU, YOU, YOU! This is happening to ME, Goddammit, and I just need my fucking friend! Why can’t you just be my friend? This is out of everyone’s control, especially yours. If you can’t deal with that then you need to get the fuck out of my house.”

  We stand toe-to-toe, both of us wearing equal looks of anger. As much as I don’t have the right to be mad at her, I can’t help it. This was never supposed to happen. Our friendship was solid and I thought nothing could ever break it. She’s pissed at me for not being a good friend and I’m pissed at her for not understanding that I don’t know HOW to be a good friend if I’m not the one making things better. She knows I’m a control freak, how can she possibly expect me to not feel helpless about this?

  “I’m sorry I’m not perfect!” I fire back. “My friend gets sick and I don’t know what the fuck to do, so sue me! I’m trying here and you’re not making it any easier. You want to talk, talk, talk about this horrible thing that’s happening and I can’t do that. I can’t just act like it’s the most natural thing in the world to talk about my best friend having breast cancer! I’m not a sappy, talk about my feelings kind of person and you should damn well know that by now. I got a fucking tattoo to show you I cared, I’m taking care of your shop so you can rest and I’m trying to take your mind off of things because I don’t know what else to do!”

  Claire takes a step back and crosses her arms across her chest. “I never asked you to get a tattoo, nor did I ask you for help with the shop. All I needed was my best friend to tell me everything will be okay and you can’t even do that. I know it’s horseshit. I know we don’t know if everything will be okay, but I need YOU to believe that. How the hell am I supposed to believe it if you don’t? You can’t even LOOK at me!”

  I realize I’ve been staring at a button on her shirt the entire time she spoke and quickly look up to meet her eyes. I don’t know what she sees on my face but it’s enough for her to shake her head at me.

  “Just get out,” she tells me sadly.

  I’m so pissed that she’s ordering me out of the house I don’t even think about the fact that this is the first real fight we’ve ever had in thirty years of friendship and I’m not sure if we’ll ever be able to recover from it.

  “Fine! I’m out of here!” I scream back.

  I walk away from my best friend and let the front door slam behind me. I get to my car and let the anger flow through me as I pull out of the driveway and head home. My anger festers and builds until I get inside my house, throw my purse across the kitchen and head to my bedroom. It all disappears as soon as I flop down on my bed and realize what just happened. I curl my legs up to my chest and, for the first time since Claire told us what was going on,
I let myself cry. I cry so hard and for so long that I can’t breathe. I keep right on sobbing when I feel the bed dip behind me and Jim curls up against me, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close. He doesn’t say a word, he just lets me cry.

  I can’t believe I screamed at my best friend. She’s got cancer, she’s sick and she’s scared and I stood in her living room and yelled at her. What kind of person does that? I should have just taken what she threw at me. She deserves to scream and yell and let it all out. She’s right, it’s not all about me. It was never about me, it was always about her. This is her battle and her illness and as much as I want to, I can’t fight it for her. I was supposed to be the one who always understood her, but at the first sign of trouble, I forgot everything about being a good friend and what she would need from me. I didn’t talk about what was going on with her because it was too hard for me, but it shouldn’t have mattered. What she’s going through is a thousand times worse than what I’m going through. I am a selfish person and I let Claire down.

  I was so scared of losing my best friend to this disease that I never stopped to think that I might just loser her because of my own pig-headedness instead. She’s been there through all of my good times and I let her down during one of her worst times. I just want to go back to the good times. It was so much easier then.

  Twenty-two years ago, in a balloon galaxy far, far away…

  JIM AND I planned getting pregnant, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when the stick turned pink. It wasn’t a huge secret because we’d been talking about it and trying our hardest to make it happen for months, but I still wanted to do something special to break the news to him. I hate surprises and being the center of attention, but Jim loves it so I really wanted to plan something special to tell him. I would have been perfectly fine just blurting it out over dinner and being done with it, but Jim is a romantic and he wouldn’t be too pleased with that.

  I asked Jim to meet me at Seduction and Snacks one night under the guise of helping me with inventory. When he walked in, his face took on a look of confusion when he saw the entire place filled with balloons. Piles of green, purple, red, blue and orange balloons littered the floor and every available surface of the shop and hundreds more filled with helium covered every inch of the ceiling. I could have gone with pink and blue, but I didn’t want to make it too obvious.