Written in the Sand

by D. B. James

  Me: If I were to ask, would you have time to hook me up with a tattoo? Say like, this afternoon or evening?

  Not bothering to say who it is texting, or thinking twice, I hit send. We exchanged numbers, he should know who it’s from, if not, he’ll ask. Instead of waiting for his reply, I dial my salon and ask for the next appointment with my stylist for her to dye and cut my hair. It seems like today is the day to tackle not one, but two of my fears. Dr. Beesley didn’t say I only had to do one, correct? Besides, I can always change my mind before either thing happens.

  About fifteen minutes later, my phone alerts me of an incoming text.

  Case: Hell, yes, I can give you a tattoo. Can you stop by the shop tonight around 7ish?

  I’ve nothing else to do for the evening except wallow in my self-pity.

  Me: Uh, yeah, I guess. Where’s the shop? Did I mention I’m terrified of needles? Because I am.

  Case: Fear of needles. Check. We’ll handle it together. ;)

  Case: The shop is near Bookmark It! About two blocks south on the same street. It’s named Ink Monkee. There’s a parking lot in the rear, park there and swing on in the back door, (it’s lime green). I’ll be waiting. The shop will be closed, it’s why I’m having you come in through the back. If you need anything, call me. Looking forward to seeing you later tonight, Tenley.

  Me: Should I be scared you’re having me meet you in an empty tattoo shop after hours? Not to mention having me use the rear entrance? You’re not a serial killer, are you? Or just a cereal killer? ;)

  Shit, am I flirting?

  Fuck.

  I’m flirting with a man.

  Through text messaging, but still I’m flirting with a man I think is sexy. He’s also a man I barely know. We barely know each other and only met a mere week ago. A man who scares me. Maybe I should put him on my list and not only a tattoo. At least a friendship with him scares me. We can only be friends. This beautiful man and me.

  Case: Gee, thanks. Now, I’m hungry for some cereal. And to answer your question, no, I’m not a serial killer. If I was, wouldn’t I have had ample opportunity to have killed you by now? See you at 7. Bring cereal. ;)

  Me: This is true. Okay, I’ll bring cereal. Bye, Case.

  Glancing down at my wrist I see the time, and it’s already after 5 p.m., and if he wants cereal, it’s cereal he’ll get.

  Quickly running to the restroom, I splash cool water on my face, pull my hair back in a ponytail, and take a long hard stare at myself in the mirror. Is this what everyone sees? This heartbroken, lonely, sorrowful excuse for a woman? My eyes lack the brightness they once glared with, they no longer appear like the aquamarines they've been compared to. Instead, they look like they’re coated with layers of ice. Like my heart. My skin is a drab grayish pink color, and no longer has the sun kissed the glow it once held. I appear like I feel…like shit. How can anyone stand to be around me? Deciding to push the ugly thought away, I sigh, grab my purse, and head out to my car. I have a trip to the grocery store to make. Watch out cereal aisle, here comes Tenley. Oh, yeah, and I’m about to tackle the hell out of this needle fear.

  A couple of hours later, I find myself walking through the brightest lime green door I’ve ever encountered. I’m blinded by it and I have my sunglasses on. If they were off, I’m sure my retinas would be burned from the glare of the sun hitting its lively green color.

  My hands are overflowing with bags to the point I can barely open the door, but by some means, I manage.

  “Case?” I hesitantly call out into the empty shop.

  “I’m in the front, locking up. I’ll be back in a moment. If you want to meet me in the purple room, I’ll find you there.”

  “M’kay....” I let the word hang. This is the brightest building I’ve ever stepped foot inside. Hands down. And I’ve been to some odd places. NYC has some of the strangest themed stores, clubs, and restaurants in the world. But this? This ranks highest on my peculiar list.

  Passing by what can only be described as a yellow room (it’s damn near florescent), I find one with walls painted a vibrant purple. Whoever owns this place must love color. I’ll give them credit though, it’s interesting to say the least. Add in a few bonus points because from what I can see every inch of this place is immaculately clean. I bet if I took a pair of white gloves around checking for dust particles, I would be hard-pressed to find any.

  Tossing the bags containing every type of cereal I could think of onto the nearest counter, I begin unpacking the boxes. Before I can grab the first box, Case comes walking into the room. He doesn’t have to say a word for me to know he’s here, I feel his presence, his steps silent on the linoleum floors. The air in here suddenly becomes…stuffier? No, it’s not the accurate word. Heavier? Thicker? Closer? No. None of those are correct either. It’s like he’s stolen my air directly from my lungs and is making it impossible for me to breathe without him.

  “Hey,” he says in greeting.

  “Um. Hey. Is it hot in here? I think it’s hot in here.” And now we can add rambling to the list of embarrassing things I do in front of Case. Great. But it’s definitely hot in here. Electric maybe? Electric is the word I’ve been searching for. The air in the room crackles with electricity from both of us. Until he walked in, it was waiting silently to implode. But once he stepped foot into the room, it blew up with the jolts sent from him to me, and vice versa.

  Shit. This was a horrible idea spending alone time with someone who tempts me.

  Why did I come here?

  Why did I think spending more solo time with Case would be a good idea? If there’s one thing I know, I know I shouldn’t be alone with him. It was different yesterday. We were alone but not actually alone. The beach wasn’t deserted like the shop is tonight. And why in the world did I think it was a brilliant idea to get a fucking tattoo? Why now at thirty-five years old am I making such a drastic change to my appearance?

  “Actually, it’s cool in here, the a/c is on and last I checked it was set at sixty-eight degrees. Would you like me to turn it down some more? And did you actually bring me all of those boxes of cereal?” He laughs as he takes in all the spread on the countertops all around the back wall.

  “No, I’m fine. I’m sure it’s only me. Probably from hauling all the bags in containing these boxes. I’ll cool down in a few minutes.” At least pretend to be normal, Tenley. “And, yeah, I did. You said to bring cereal, I brought cereal.”

  “I can see. It’s quite an impressive collection. Did you happen to grab Lucky Charms? If you did, I may have to kiss you,” he says in jest.

  Shit.

  “It’s probably for the best I didn’t grab any then,” I say. Not because it wasn’t on my list, but it was Michael’s favorite. When he wanted a bowl of sugary goodness, he’d reach for Lucky Charms.

  To be honest, I couldn’t handle more from Case right now. All I have to offer him is friendship. Maybe all I will ever be able to offer him is friendship. He knows this. Or at least I thought he knew this. He’s the one who brought up friendship in the first place.

  “Case, you can’t kiss me.” Taking a quick deep breath, I add in the most important part, “Ever.”

  “It’s okay, Tenley, I was merely kidding. If you had brought them I’m sure the kiss would’ve been on your forehead…or something equally as friendly.” His excuse lacks the confident tone his voice usually carries.

  But, I’d have taken the dreaded forehead kiss. I don’t want to lead him on by letting him think we could possibly be more.

  He’s temporary. In town. In my life.

  And I’m…healing. On my best day.

  Yes, I’m making progress and Michael’s letter, no matter how strange it was, has been helping. The beautiful book-themed flowers he had commissioned? Stunning. Gorgeous. And incredibly thoughtful. I need to remember to contact the maker, this Gloria woman, to be sure to thank her.

  But the biggest help to my sanity has been Dr. Beesley. She’s been my lifesaver. Literally. She
’s making me take huge steps outside of my comfort zone, hence the reason why I find myself here tonight.

  “All right, what type of tattoo would you like? And more importantly, where do you want it?” Case asks, bringing me out of my own head.

  “You’ll think it’s nerdy of me, but I don’t give a shit.” Glancing over in his direction, I see he’s selected not one but two cereals to mix together. Um, weird. But I can’t say I’ve never mixed the peanut butter and chocolate Cheerios together. ‘Cause hello, who hasn’t? Now, they’ve gone and mixed them together for us. Fun suckers.

  “Lay it on me. The nerdier the better. I’m the biggest geek on the planet. Don’t let what I display for the world to see fool you. This man,” he points to his chest, “goes to Comic-Con every year. Or at least I have for the last eight years. And I’m not sorry about my nerdiness. It’s fucking fun. I have such a blast, it’s complete and utter nerd nirvana. I love meeting the different actors, comic book artists, authors, fans, you name it, I’ve met them there. Supernatural is my jam. And the Marvel movies? Those are the bomb. Don’t get me started on Deadpool. I’ll wax poetic for hours,” he admits.

  He just may be a bigger nerd than I am.

  I’m a book nerd, he’s an everything else nerd.

  Or I was a book nerd before this mess called my life exploded. I’m working on becoming me again. Book nerd and all.

  “Okay, I don’t feel nerdy about what I want now. I’d like to get The Deathly Hallows behind my ear. Not too big but not too small either. I’m a huge Harry Potter fan. The books, the movies, the theme park. I love it all. I’d love to go to the UK to explore some of the attractions they have there. Eventually, I’ll do it. JK Rowling is my hero,” I admit.

  He’s staring at me while stuffing his mouth full of cereal and has yet to reply. Instead, he winks and stuffs yet another spoonful into his mouth.

  I’ll take his wink as his answer.

  He quickly finishes his dinner and gestures for me to follow him over to a black padded table.

  “Hop on up and get comfy, lie on your side with the ear you’d like it placed behind, facing out toward me,” he instructs.

  What side do I want it on? It’s not something I’ve ever thought about before coming here. Granted, getting a tattoo wasn’t something I’d given much thought to. Well, admittedly maybe I’ve given it a little thought.

  “I should mention again, I’m scared of needles. Terrified with a capital T. Whenever I need a shot at the doctor’s or blood work drawn, I freak-the-fuck-out. But needles being a fear of mine is why I’m here. I’m tackling some of my fears. Stepping outside of my comfort zone. Taking some new risks.” I’m rambling again, how attractive. Why does it matter if he finds you attractive, friends, remember?

  Hopping up onto the table, I lie on my left side, leaving my right side exposed. It doesn’t matter what side I have it on anyway. Holy shit, I’m getting a fucking tattoo. Do you hear me, Michael? A tattoo! Me.

  “Tenley?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Open your eyes and look at me.”

  My eyes are closed?

  “Hey,” I say as I open my eyes and catch his deep brown eyes staring back into mine. They’re not the shiny bottle-green ones I’m used to. These eyes are a deep, deep chocolate brown. They’re like my coffee in the morning before I add any creamer, with tiny flecks of gold. If I’m not careful, I could get lost in his coffee-colored irises.

  “I’m not going to lie and say this isn’t going to hurt because it does. But I will promise it’s not too horrible. It’s more irritating than it is painful. Does that make sense?” he asks.

  “Y-yes, sort of,” I stutter out.

  “Good,” he says while walking away to gather some more of what I can only assume are his supplies. “Would you like it in any particular color, or only plain black, like a grayscale type of thing? And how large…quarter sized?” More like a dime.

  “The size sounds fine.” Liar. “Nothing bigger than a quarter. Black is okay. Or if you, as a professional, think it would appear better in color. Tell me now or forever hold your peace. Because I’m not fully opposed to color.”

  If nervous rambling was an art form, I’d be its master. People always say they do the most random matters when nervous, but I don’t do random things, I say random things.

  “Actually, I’d like to run an idea by you. I think it would be awesome if the symbol itself was negative and the background was shaded. For example, I’d shade the background in a color—magenta maybe—and the hallows themselves are negative, it would be amazing. Do you want to see a picture of something similar to see exactly what I mean?” he asks.

  “Sure?” I question. “What I’m visualizing looks interesting in my mind, but I’d like to see it to be certain it’s a look I’d be happy seeing for the rest of my life. How did you know I’d pick a pinkish-purple color?”

  “Stay there, I’ll run and grab my iPad to show you a couple pictures of a few I’ve done. If after seeing them you’re not convinced, we can search for a few more online.”

  Laying here I think about how he evaded the color question. And this damn tattoo may turn into something bigger than I originally thought. But honestly, did I actually think coming to a man like Case, I’d walk away with a simple tattoo? No. When I sent him the first text, I knew what I was getting into by asking him. One glance at the tattoos covering his body should be a gigantic enough clue.

  Before I know it, he’s standing in front of me. Once again, he’s stealing all my air and making it hard for me to breathe.

  “Take a gander at these. Swipe right a few times and you’ll see a couple more pictures of pieces I’ve done which also have words or symbols in the negative. If you like the aspect, I can sketch up a new one quickly and you can decide on a color or colors and we’ll get it done. It shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes once we get started.”

  Wow, what I’m seeing are true works of art. I’m in love with this idea. Without glancing at more than one image, I know this is what I want him to do.

  “Let’s do this. I love this idea and I don’t need to see more images. Can you do more than one color, like shade one into another?”

  “Depends on how many colors. With this size, I wouldn’t advise more than three. Two would be better for keeping it visible. If you want three, we could go a tiny bit bigger on the size,” he replies.

  “Well…I was thinking about three, but if two is better size wise, let’s stick with two. I’d for sure like a magenta like you’ve already described and an emerald green or a jade color. Before you say anything and get all judgy, I know it’s a strange color combination, but it means something to me. The third color if you can work it in without taking away from the hallows, I’d like is an orange. Like the color of the sun rising in the morning. The streams of orange and gold it shoots across the sky as the world is waking up. Maybe it could be the color in the middle, the one to bring the other two together. But if it has to be made bigger, I’m not entirely keen on it, because…needles,” I say.

  “Honestly, those colors sound great together. When you described the orange, before you said you’d like it in the middle, I was already placing it there in my mind. If you give me a moment, I’ll sketch it up in those colors to show you and see if you like it. It will be a hair bigger, but not much. Promise. I’ll get started on the stencil and we’ll get you all tatted up.”

  “Sounds okay, all of it, size included.” Taking a deep breath in, I release my nerves on my exhale. It’s only a tiny bit bigger, I can do this. “While you’re getting ready, do you mind if I use the restroom? Could you point me in the correct direction please?” I ask.

  “As I’m sure you’ve noticed every room in this place is a different color, the bathroom is no exception. It’s the deep gray room down the hall on the right, the opposite way from where you came in,” Case instructs.

  Without replying, I sit up and slide down off the table, quickly exiting and making my way toward t
he bathroom. Once I close the door, I feel like I’m finally able to breathe fully again. I haven’t been able to since walking in the door thirty minutes ago. It’s hard for me to understand. He didn’t affect me this way at the beach. If I think back and am truly honest with myself, I can admit he did at the bookstore though. The only difference at the beach was the amount of wine in my system. Great, wine makes it easier to breathe around a hot sexy man. Because drunk is way better than the alternative. The alternative is, I’m actually attracted to someone other than Michael for the first time in nearly half my life.

  Please give me the strength to get through the next twenty-five minutes and I’ll forever be thankful. Let me tackle this fear, get away from this man, and go back home to hide in my dark bedroom…alone.

  For at least the next ten hours.

  The next morning, I find myself sitting and staring at my newly dyed hair in the mirror while my stylist jibber jabbers on and on about the local gossip. She’s cutting my hair, and I should be paying attention to the conversation going on around me, but I’m too shocked by what’s staring back at me in the mirror to actually give a shit about the newest gossip.

  What did I let her do?

  Not only do I have bright vivid turquoise strands throughout my hair, I have platinum blonde highlights as well. My normal basic honey colored tresses are a thing of the past. Goodbye, blah. Hello, brightness. Tenley of yesterday is gone and, in her place is a technicolor replacement. On the outside anyway.

  Once Case finished my tattoo last night, I fled as fast as my feet could carry me from the shop. Claiming an early appointment this morning and my need to have beauty sleep. Barely managing to pay the poor man before escaping. He tried to not take my money, which resulted in a slight argument and my tossing some money at his feet before making my escape.