Tattoos: A Novel

by Denise Mathew

  “Do those cheesy lines work with all the girls,” I said, emphasizing my words with a dramatic lift of my eyebrows. If there was one thing to be thankful for, it was that I’d managed to retain the little bit of hair on my eyebrows and eyelashes. It was bad enough to not have any hair, but to have no eyebrows too would have been beyond odd.

  “Every time,” he said with a lopsided grin.

  I jabbed my elbow lightly in his ribs. He flinched as if he’d been mortally wounded. I laughed out loud. Once again I was reminded by the fact that not only was I in the midst of one of the worst times of my life, but I was enjoying the best part too. Being with Jax seemed to breathe life in the day and made the roads seem wider and colors appear brighter.

  “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” I asked, instantly breaking my promise to myself that I wouldn’t ask him about the holiday. But since tomorrow was the Thursday before the long weekend, it was hard to think about anything else. As tough as it was to accept, it was going to be my first Thanksgiving away from home.

  Harold had already made it abundantly clear that no matter how much healthier I’d felt, it was better for me to be in the hospital. He’d said that I would be getting the best care I could. He believed that if I were home there wasn’t anybody there to help me if I got sick again. I was sure that my refusal to wear the hat-wig combo that Mom had sent, hadn’t helped swing the matter in my favor.

  Thanksgiving had always been huge in my house. It was an event that Mom planned months in advance. For her and Harold it was a time to get the house all decked out for Christmas. Her fanciful decorations would have rivaled the most up class boutique or maybe even Martha Stewart’s place. Never the same two years in a row, our decorations were cutting edge, as far as Christmas decorations could be. For Mom it was a time to show off to her shallow friends who oo-ed and awed over stupid white down wreaths, or silver spray painted twigs.

  In my opinion Mom and her designer’s visions were so far from traditional Christmas that it was laughable. I longed for something normal, something red and green would have been a start, not chartreuse and petal pink.

  “Gran does a big spread, sweet potato pie, ham, turkey, gravy, homemade rolls, and pumpkin pie for all my friends, and also some of the neighbors who don’t have family,” Jax said.

  He wrapped his arms around my waist a little tighter. I leaned back against the firm muscles of his chest. And positioned like that, held in his embrace, I forgot that I was sick or that I’d soon be starting another chemo cycle.

  “That sounds amazing,” I said. I wasn’t willing to confess to him that I was going to be holed up in the hospital for the holiday. Though it was always a pain, fake smiling for all Mom’s society friends, I longed to be back in my own room and bed.

  “How about you?” he murmured against my neck. I was immediately sorry that I’d mentioned Thanksgiving because now I would have to tell him I was spending it in the hospital. The last thing I wanted was his pity. Because of that, the lie that slipped out next came easy.

  “Harold and Mom are picking me up and taking me home for a few days,” I said.

  “Really?” Even without looking at him, I heard the surprise in his tone. I was a better liar than I’d thought.

  “Are you cool with that?” he asked.

  I nodded, happy that I didn’t have to look at him while I lied. I hated lying to him but not as much as I despised when people felt sorry for me. Unlike Mom who fed on sympathy like it was a life force, I thought it was overrated.

  “Mom and Harold are a pain in the butt, but at least I’ll get a break from this place,” I said. I sank a little lower into the grey area that said it was okay to make up stuff if no one got hurt.

  Jax brought his face in front of mine. He tilted my chin up with his index finger until our eyes met. He kissed me softly on the tip of my nose and grinned.

  “I’m glad that you’re getting out of this place for a little while, but if I’m being selfishly honest, it kind of sucks that I won’t get to see you for a few days.”

  As soon as he’d said the words my heart sank because I realized that my plan had already backfired. Not only would I be alone for Thanksgiving, but I wouldn’t get to see Jax either. That prospect alone seemed worse than anything I’d faced up until then. I tried for a casual smile; I was sure it looked more like I was in pain. Jax didn’t seem to care. Before I could say another word he caught my mouth with his in a kiss that left me literally gasping for air.

  My hands worked through the silky strands of his hair. He pulled me onto his lap, obviously not concerned if anyone walked in on us. I wished I’d had even a fraction of is nonchalance.

  Jax was the first to break away. He glanced down at his watch and grimaced.

  “I’ve got to get out of here, I’ve got a shift at Vinyl,” he said, shooting me an apologetic expression. Even though the last thing I wanted was for him to leave, I tried to smile as if it didn’t really matter. He didn’t have anyone to pay his bills, he had to work for a living. That didn’t mean that I couldn’t silently hate his job, anything really that took him away from me.

  I always hated when he left because as soon as he did it felt like a cloud positioned itself over my room, engulfing me in its darkness. Only when he came back would the grey lift. I still didn’t know how he did it, but for some reason Jax always seemed to bring light into every room he entered.

  “I forgot to ask if you knew that Cindy went home,” I said, wanting to keep him there just one minute longer.

  He nodded and rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “I just hope she’s out for good,” he said. I was surprised by his uncharacteristic pessimism.

  “Do you know something that I don’t?” I asked.

  He shook his head and shrugged.

  “I guess I’m just jaded you know, being here, seeing what I see…” Suddenly he seemed to catch himself. His whole demeanor shifted into a too tightly strung version of him. It was so odd that I found myself unable to take my eyes off him. His gaze shifted back and forth and the color drained from his face, leaving him paler than I’d ever seen him before. His arms came around me. He drew me in close, resting his chin on the top of my head as if he was protecting me. I imagined in his mind he was doing just that, keeping me safe.

  Despite how much we tried to make everything seem as if we were any other couple in the world, we weren’t. In fact we were so far removed from the norm that it was hard to imagine an odder scenario. No matter how we dressed it up, hanging familiar posters of funny sayings, using my quilt from home and trying to make the room seem as homey as possible, I still had cancer. We were still in the hospital and I didn’t have any idea if I’d land in the percentage that beat the disease or the one that didn’t.

  Most times I forgot or maybe even ignored how Jax felt, or the fact that someday I might leave him forever, and there wouldn’t be a thing he could do about it. The actuality of my illness and how it affected him had only briefly entered my thoughts in the past. But now, with his seemingly harmless comment about Cindy, it brought everything into stark reality.

  “And what do you see when you look at me?” I asked, locking my eyes on his. Jax kept his gaze focused on a spot on the foot of the bed, as if deciding what he would say. Witnessing that he was lost for a response made me want to take back the question. But I couldn’t because my cancer was like a massive presence in the room, that was always there with us. Up until then we’d managed to ignore it.

  After what seemed painfully long but was only a few minutes, Jax brought his gaze back to my face. He cradled my cheeks in his huge hands. His touch was gentle as if he was worried he might shatter me. His blue eyes met mine for a moment. I saw the discomfort that I’d put there with my question. I was more than sorry that I’d been so stupid. Jax didn’t deserve to be put on the spot or to be reminded so blatantly about my illness.

  “I see someone who is both beautiful inside and out. I see someone who has grown because of their illness, be
come a better person and who instead of being bitter like you have every right to be, has become somehow better. Instead of pitying yourself you’re trying to make your mark on the world, and leave it better for you having been here. I see you in every flower in the park, every color in a rainbow and in every scent that reminds me of the things I love. Without knowing how, or even why it happened, I can’t imagine a world where you don’t exist. And even when I’m away I’m still with you, with every thought of you and how you feel in my arms, against my chest, the smoothness of your skin…”

  He tapped his head. “You’re always there with me and no matter what happens in the future you’ll be there, safe in my mind with, spaghetti and meatballs, my beat up bike, my Gran and my Celtic’s t-shirt, and all the rest of the things I love.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed. A wave of peacefulness rippled across his face making him look both boyish and innocent.

  I felt tears roll down my cheeks, but I didn’t bother to try to stop them or brush them away. I wanted Jax to know how much he’d moved me. I wanted him to see how amazing it felt to know that he cared as much as he did. If there had been any doubt in my mind before that I loved him, there was none now. The one regret that came after Jax’s brutal honesty was that I had lied to him about Thanksgiving.

  When he opened his eyes again they shimmered with unshed tears. He’d evidently had enough practice hiding his emotions that he was able to reign everything in before he actually let them spill. I leaned in to him, covering his mouth with mine. He tasted of peppermint gum, and the stubble on his chin tickled my skin. Just like he’d told me he did, I took mental snapshots of him, images that would get me through the times he was away from me.

  Jax stroked the length of my neck, down my shoulder and let his hand rest on the curve of my hip. His lips moved along the line of my jaw, his tongue tracing the bones. I gasped because the action made me want things that I hadn’t really put much thought into before then. Like making love for the first time. If and when that ever happened, I knew my first time could only be with Jax.

  I’d dated guys before but they’d only seen me at my best, hair done, makeup perfect, dressed in designer clothes. It was easy to be with someone at their finest, but Jax had seen me at my worst. And despite that he still managed to love me. How could anyone ever compete with that?

  With one final kiss, Jax reluctantly stood up. He grabbed his leather jacket off the chair, slipping it over his broad shoulders. Watching him as he prepared to brave the cold, I was brought back to reality with one statement.

  “When do you go home?” he asked. The question threw me for a second. My lies were quickly growing to epic proportions. I bit my lip, feeling heat build in my cheeks.

  “Tomorrow morning,” I said, hoping that I sounded believable. It felt so wrong still lying after he’d been so honest with me. He sighed loudly as if my response wasn’t what he’d hoped. I despised myself all over again.

  “Well, I guess this is it until after Thanksgiving,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. I nodded. It was all I could do not to break into tears again at just the idea of not seeing him for five days. I wanted to kick myself for telling him I was going the next day. Why hadn’t I pushed the time closer to Thanksgiving? Now that the damage was done though, there was nothing to do but suffer the consequences of my lies.

  “I’m sure you’ll be too busy to even miss me,” I said with a weak smile.

  A voice in my head screamed to confess the truth, but I knew if I did it would be for selfish reasons. Jax had plans with his Gran and his friends. For a change he didn’t have to come to the hospital, something he’d done almost every day since as far back as I could remember. I was quite sure that if I told Jax that I was going to be holed up in my room for the whole time he would definitely have changed his plans, and made it a point to visit me. I couldn’t be a part of that.

  Jax’s face dropped as if I’d said the most horrible thing he could think of.

  “It’s not like that Marilee, I don’t want to be apart from you, but if you’re happy…” He shrugged and his sapphire eyes found mine. “You suffer so much every day. I just want you to feel like something good is happening to you. If that means that you go home for Thanksgiving and spend time with your parents…”

  His voice trailed off and he scowled. Clearly he still wasn’t a big fan of my parents. It only made his words of encouragement more poignant.

  He closed the distance between us, taking me in his arms one last time. He held me for longer than I’d expected. When he finally released me he gave me one more reticent look that said he didn’t want to go. He kissed the top of my head. I felt even more tears gather at the back of my eyes, still I refused to let him see my grief. It wouldn’t do for him to think I was anything but thrilled to be going home for Thanksgiving. I tried to remind myself that if I loved Jax, letting him go was the best I could do for him.

  He stood unmoving for a few more beats, my hands held firmly in his grasp. Once again regret flashed across his face. I wanted him to leave then because I didn’t know how much longer I could hold on.

  “Take care of yourself,” he whispered. There was so much emotion in his words that I almost cracked. One more pathetic smile graced my face. I nodded. Then he was walking away from me and this time he didn’t come back. In that moment it felt like something had shattered in my chest, something that could only be mended when he came back.

  14. Jax

  When I went to see Fred Ginger, number three on my list, Marilee was the only person on my mind. I wanted her to be there with me. To see the good that she was doing, to know that even her cancer couldn’t ruin her ability to leave her mark.

  Lacy had been an easy fix. I’d brought her the books and she’d been more than grateful for them. I could tell by the look in her eyes that I’d done the right thing. I had given her exactly what she’d needed to begin to change her life. I wasn’t deluded enough to think that it would be easy, or that everything would be perfect for her from here on out, but it was a chance. I had to be satisfied that I’d done what I could.

  From what I’d heard on the Strip, in his heyday Fred had been a force to be reckoned with. He had played saxophone with a successful Jazz band, that was until he’d fallen heavily into drugs and had lost it all. Now in his mid-fifties and with no family to call his own, Fred panhandled most days. When he wasn’t begging for spare change he was drinking cheap wine from a crumpled paper bag. Though he had little in the way of worldly possessions, through thick and thin, Fred had kept his old saxophone by his side. The black leather case was dented and worn away in places but he’d always maintained his instrument. No one ever polished and cleaned a sax more than he did.

  When he’d had his sax the sound of his familiar tunes filled the air on the Strip every day. I’d seen him play a few times. It had been easy to see why he’d been revered because as soon as he had his saxophone in his hands his whole demeanor changed. He stood straighter and instantly became the entertainer he’d once been. Though his suit had been worn and a bit threadbare, he’d still looked neat, as neat as he could be, living on the streets of the Strip. Unfortunately a year back when Fred had been passed out drunk, someone had managed to get hold of his saxophone and had pawned it at a local pawn shop. Fred had managed to find the sax. He had tried to get his instrument back, but without the cash, five hundred dollars to be exact, he was out of luck.

  In the first few weeks after he would go into the pawn shop every day and gaze lovingly at the only thing that tied him to the life he’d once had. After a while the pawn shop owner got tired of him coming in and had banned him. And it seemed that had been the beginning of the end for him. Excruciatingly thin with clothes coated in grime and dirt, Fred Ginger was a ghost of the man he’d once been. Anyone, if they bothered to look into his eyes would have seen that he had nothing left to live for.

  I removed the tarnished saxophone from the case. The pawn shop owner, a man in his sixties with a white
cotton short sleeved shirt, a huge pot belly and a small tuft of snowy hair at the top of his head, watched me. I could tell by his wary expression that he didn’t think I had the cash to pay for the sax. Knowing he had no faith in me left me with a feeling of satisfaction.

  “I’ll take it,” I said, placing it back inside the black leather case. The man’s dark eyes popped wide for a second when he eyed the wad of bills I’d retrieved from my pocket. Once again I thought of Marilee and how I wanted so much to share this with her.

  While the pawn shop owner wrote up the paperwork I counted out five hundred dollars, all the while unable to wipe the smile off my face. Ten minutes later I was striding down the street toward the waterfront. I was headed to a place near the trestle of the bridge where I was quite sure I would find Fred. The saxophone felt good in my hands and I couldn’t wait to find him. I wanted to see his expression when he was reunited with his prize possession.

  I glanced at my watch and noticed that it was just going on five. If I didn’t hurry nightfall would come and I’d probably have no shot at finding Fred until the following day. Since it would be Thanksgiving, the chances that he’d be in his old haunt would have been even less remote. Fred and all his buddies would surely have made their way to the Salvation Army to enjoy roast turkey and all the trimmings.

  As I approached the bridge, where not only Fred lived but a few others did too, I noticed a fire had already been lit in a huge metal barrel. Street people congregated around it at night to keep warm. Winter was already in the air. I pitied anybody whose only mode of staying warm was a burning barrel of garbage.

  Three people stood warming their hands over the glowing fire, passing a paper bag covered bottle from one to the other. They shot fleeting glances my way and must have judged me of no interest since they completely ignored me. I moved past the group, a little surprised that Fred wasn’t with them. Maybe he’d already started drinking and was passed out in the place he called home.