Indelible

by Mark Carver

  Cameron’s eyebrows shot up and he moved back to avoid the tiny food particles that came flying out of Chucky’s mouth.

  “Are you serious?” he asked cautiously, afraid that Chucky was kidding.

  Instead, Chucky grabbed his shoulders and shook him like a doll. “Dude, you’re insane! Insane! But I love it!”

  Cameron was totally unprepared for this kind of enthusiasm. “But…but don’t you think there are some downsides? I mean, it’s going to be on my face.”

  “I know! And everyone will see how awesome you really are!”

  “Chucky, seriously.” Cameron was beginning to feel like Chucky was the one getting the tattoo and it was his responsibility to talk him out of it. “What are people going to think? I don’t want to be some kind of freak.”

  “Dude, who cares? Screw everybody else. It’s your face, man; do what you want!”

  Then Chucky’s expression transformed from over-the-moon to stern headmaster.

  “Are you really thinking about doing this or is this just a half-baked ‘maybe I’ll do it one day when I’m rich and famous and don’t care what anyone thinks’ never-actually-going-to-happen idea?”

  Cameron’s mouth hung open for a moment as he tried to process the torrent of words. “Well, I told you I only thought about it last night, but it’s really in there, man…Like a weevil, eating at my brain.”

  Chucky leaned forward on his elbow. “You know what my brother told me before he left for Iraq and got blown up in a spice market?”

  “Um…no.”

  “He said, ‘You don’t need a reason why. You just need a reason why not.’”

  Cameron furrowed his brow. “That doesn’t – "

  “Of course it does! The absence of a reason not to do something is actually a reason to do something!”

  “Now wait a minute, Chucky, I don’t think that’s what your – "

  “Do you have a reason why not?”

  “Huh?”

  Chucky stabbed the counter with his meaty finger. “Right now, can you tell me a reason why you should not get a tattoo on your face? And don’t give me any crap about what people might think, what your mother would say, blah blah blah. Tell me, right now. Is there a reason why you should not get a tattoo on your face?”

  Cameron stared at Chucky and his mind raced. He felt like a schoolboy rushing to finish an exam but was stuck on one impossible question.

  What were the reasons why not? The most obvious answer was people’s reactions. Would people still want to be friends with him? And what about his family? How could he show up at Christmas dinner looking like some tribal warrior?

  His thoughts broke through the haze. This is your face. You don’t have any obligation to anyone to keep yourself all clean and presentable.

  He felt like rolling his eyes. Oh, now you change your mind. But he listened anyway.

  Chucky’s right. If you want to do it, then do it. Don’t think about the consequences. People might be a little weirded out at first, but they’ll get over it. They might respect you more. This is a pretty ballsy thing you’re thinking about here.

  Cameron sighed. “I don’t know, man. I think I really want to, but I also think I should wait a while. It’s not like a shoulder piece that I can easily cover up. This is going to change my face forever.”

  Chucky nodded slowly. “Yeah, you’re right. But don’t chicken out on me, man. It’s not cool to get my hopes up for nothing.”

  “Then why don’t you get a tattoo on your face?”

  “Me?” Chucky scoffed. “No way. I’m not that crazy.”

  “Oh, you think I’m crazier than you are?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Cameron had no reply, so he just looked down at his bacon.

  “One question, if I may,” Chucky said.

  “Sure.”

  “What the hell put this idea in your head in the first place?”

  Cameron opened his mouth but was silenced when Chucky’s hand flew up.

  “It was that guy at the tattoo shop, wasn’t it? I saw you watching him when he came in. That dude’s a maniac, man. They call him ‘The General.’ I think he used to be a mercenary or something down in South America.”

  Cameron snorted in disbelief. “Oh come on.”

  “It’s true!” Chucky said with wide eyes. “He got those tattoos from some Indian tribe in the Amazon.”

  His eyes narrowed. “That better not be your reason, man. It’s bad tattoo manners to copy someone else.”

  “It’s not, all right?” Cameron said with exasperation. “I just wanted…it just came to me, when I was working. You know me, how I like decorating things. Why not decorate my own face?”

  “There you go!” Chucky declared with a slap on the counter. “That’s what I want to hear! ‘Why not?’ Screw this keeping-up-appearances world and its rules that everyone thinks they have to follow. Life is short, man! You were reminded of it last night. That’s what Conan would have wanted!”

  “My dog would have wanted me to get a tattoo on my face?”

  “No, man, he would have wanted you to seize life by the balls and stop tip-toeing around wondering if you’re going to break the eggshells. Stomp on those eggshells, man! People pay you lots of money to make things that can kill people! I’m telling you, you’re a badass! Let ‘em know the moment they see you!”

  Cameron found himself becoming infected with Chucky’s excitement. He was doubly surprised that the voice of reason inside him raised no objection. Chucky’s words rang in his ears: “It’s what Conan would have wanted…”

  “So,” Chucky said as he hopped off the kitchen stool, “what are you going to get?”

  Cameron licked his teeth, then retreated to the den and brought out the doctored photos of himself. Chucky’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates.

  “Dude…dude…”

  Cameron felt the fires of pride glowing hotter with Chucky’s admiration.

  “What do you think?” he asked, almost rhetorically.

  Chucky turned slowly towards him, holding the photos like they were the Declaration of Independence.

  “Cameron,” he said gravely, “if you don’t get this tattoo, I will publicly disown you as my friend.”

  ****

  Their feet smacked the pavement in unison, and their panting breaths were synchronized almost exactly. Mindy was the first to notice the accidental harmony, and she glanced sideways at Cameron.

  “You know, I was wondering if you would come out anymore,” she said. “I thought you lost interest after that first time. You didn’t seem to enjoy it much.”

  Cameron shrugged, though the gesture was lost by the movement of his body as he ran. “It’s always a good idea to stay in shape.”

  “So how do you exercise?”

  “I don’t, really. I guess I’m lucky that I’m not a fat slob, because I definitely don’t eat right. It’ll catch up with me one day though.”

  “Not if I have any say in it,” Mindy said with a strange smile.

  They jogged in silence for about ten minutes. Cameron found his mind wandering again, but his thoughts weren’t diverted by Mindy’s curvy figure or Shane Calhoun’s increasing publicity.

  He was thinking about his appointment tomorrow with Ivan.

  For some reason, he had a nagging compulsion to tell Mindy. He felt like he was keeping a secret from her. In fact, he was. But what could he say? “Hey, next time you see me, I’ll have a different face.”

  No way.

  Ever since Chucky’s unrestrained enthusiasm the day after Conan died, he had felt that seed take root in his mind and grow taller and stronger with each passing day. After almost a week, he decided he was going to take the plunge. The nagging voices in his head had remained largely silent, but the clearest confirmation came when he glanced at the doctored photo that he had taped to his bathroom mirror. Every time he saw it, it seemed like the photo was the mirror, and that his own reflection was an unfinished project.

  He wa
s excited, too. No one would look at him the same again. He would be revered and hated by people who normally would not look twice at him. He might lose friends, and probably make a lot more. And what would this do for his business?

  That reminded him to contact that computer geek who set up his website a few years ago. That thing looked like a high schooler’s blog that hadn’t been touched in months. It was time for a face lift.

  He smiled. A face lift.

  “Cameron?” Mindy said.

  “Yeah?”

  “I haven’t seen or heard Conan for several days. Is he all right?”

  Cameron’s mood darkened instantly, but he told himself that she was just being polite.

  “Actually, he, uh, he died. That day you were planting the flowers.”

  Mindy figured as much, but she still gasped with surprise. “I’m so sorry, Cameron. He seemed like such a nice dog.”

  Cameron nodded. “He was pretty old, and it was just his time.”

  Mindy placed a hand on his arm as they ran. The gesture struck Cameron as extremely gentle, and he was grateful for her kindness.

  “Mindy...” he began.

  She looked up at him.

  Her eyes were beautiful. He lost his nerve.

  “Thanks,” he said quietly.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Don’t do it, man. She’ll probably try to talk you out of it.

  Cameron glanced at her, but she didn’t notice. She probably would try and talk him out of it. And he would probably agree. And he would go on being the pansy that he always was.

  He clenched his jaw and quickened his pace. He suddenly felt like being alone. Mindy noticed his acceleration and rushed to catch up with him.

  “Want to make it interesting, huh?”

  Cameron looked at her for a moment. She thinks I want to race. He slackened his pace a bit, because he knew she would beat him with minimal effort and he didn’t want that kind of humiliation.

  “Just wanted a little cardio jolt,” he said.

  Mindy squinted at him. “Okay...”

  They ran the rest of the way without talking, and fifteen minutes later they pulled up in front of Cameron’s house. Her face flushed with a rosy hue, Mindy turned towards him and smiled.

  “You want to come over for a glass of lemonade? Hand-squeezed.”

  Cameron looked at her for a moment. He fought the urge to follow a bead of sweat as it streaked down her neck, falling lower and lower…

  “Thanks,” he muttered, “but I have a couple calls I need to make.”

  Mindy held his gaze, and she nodded once. “Okay. But don’t forget our barbecue. You think Saturday evening will work?”

  “Saturday. Sure.” You might not recognize me, though…

  She gave him a soft punch in the shoulder. “I put a picture of the sword online. Everyone loves it. Some of my friends back home want you to make something for them. I told them you’re out of their league but I told them I’d ask you anyway.”

  Cameron stared at the palms towering over the rooftops as the wind rustled their leaves.

  I wonder how much it will hurt…

  “Cameron?”

  He blinked. “Yeah?”

  Mindy studied him with a curious expression. “Never mind. Well, go get your calls made. I’ll catch you later.”

  Cameron nodded and walked up his driveway. Mindy watched him go inside, shivering slightly as a strong breeze slithered across her skin.

  CHAPTER 8

  Ivan looked at Cameron, then at the picture in his hand, then back again at Cameron.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked, more than a hint of caution lacing his voice.

  Cameron licked his lips, which seemed very dry all of a sudden. “Yes. I am very sure.”

  Ivan glanced down at the paper and shook his head. “I mean, I really dig it, but this is just your fourth tattoo. Chucky told me that you came up with the idea only a week ago.”

  “Cameron’s a stand-up guy,” Chucky piped from behind Cameron’s shoulder. “When he makes a commitment, he follows through.”

  “This isn’t a wedding vow or construction contract,” Ivan replied, narrowing his eyes. “This is your face.”

  Cameron folded his arms. “Listen, Ivan, I appreciate what you’re saying, but my mind’s made up. This is what I want, and I would you like you to put it on me.”

  Ivan didn’t say anything for a few moments. He just stared at Cameron like a police detective sizing up a suspect.

  “All right,” he said as he flicked the picture with his index finger. “Let’s rock this.”

  Chucky gave Cameron a powerful smack on the back. “This is it, man! This is going to be awesome!”

  Cameron felt like a baseball was lodged in his throat.

  Fifteen minutes later, he was laid back in a reclining tattoo chair, squinting at the neon lights overhead as Ivan put the finishing touches on the design with a pen. It was impossible to create a tattoo stencil for this particular piece so Ivan had to use the pictures as a reference and draw it directly on Cameron’s face.

  “All right man, go check it out.”

  Cameron stood up and turned towards Chucky.

  “How’s it look?”

  Chucky’s eyes were wide. “Man...that’s crazy.”

  That did little to reassure Cameron’s fluttering stomach. He inhaled a deep breath and walked over to the mirror. He knew he had no reason to be nervous; he hadn’t gotten the tattoo yet, and if he didn’t like it, he could just ask Ivan to change it.

  Or he could forget the whole thing entirely...

  He stepped up to the full-length mirror and raised his eyes. His heart jumped.

  Whoa...

  He saw his own reflection looking back at him, but at the same time, it wasn’t him. Even though the pen lines on his face were rough and not filled in, the simple design had completely transformed his appearance.

  He felt a surge of adrenaline race through his veins. He turned around and faced Ivan and Chucky.

  “I...I don’t know what to say...”

  Ivan’s eyebrows rose. “So...is that a yes?”

  “Yes.” Cameron looked back at his face in the mirror. “Oh yes.”

  “Well,” Ivan said with a clap of his hands, “let’s make that bad boy permanent.”

  Cameron was transfixed by the image in the mirror. A flurry of words rushed through his mind: terrifying, crazy, macho, primitive. But in reality, Chucky had got it right the first time.

  It was awesome.

  He eased himself back into the chair as Ivan began prepping his work station. Two machines were laid out, one with a single needle for the outline and one with multiple needles to fill it in. He poured out one color into the tiny ink cup: black.

  Chucky perched on a stool next to Cameron. “You’re my hero, man. You’ve got some major balls, I’m telling you.”

  Cameron smiled for a moment, though his attention was diverted to his pounding heartbeat. He was only seconds away from altering his face forever.

  Forever.

  Ivan hooked up the tattoo machine and pressed the foot pedal to give it some juice. The needle buzzed sharply and Cameron gasped. Ivan glanced at him with a smile.

  “Not going to lose your nerve, are you?”

  Cameron shook his head, unable to slow down his breathing.

  I’m really doing this…

  Chucky squeezed his shoulder. “Hang in there, buddy.”

  Cameron gave him a look of gratitude. He was really glad to have a friend sitting next to him right now.

  “All right,” Ivan announced with the tone of a judge about to pronounce sentence. “It’s go time.”

  Cameron clenched his jaw and sucked in a strong breath through his nose.

  Don’t chicken out, don’t chicken out, don’t chicken out…

  The needle touched his skin, just above his eyebrow. Blazing balls of fire exploded in his eyes.

  “HOLY MOTHER…!”

  Ivan chuck
led as he dipped the needle in the ink cup. “Pretty gnarly, huh?”

  Cameron laughed weakly. He could feel sweat already beading on his forehead. Then a shock of ice cold fear raced through his body.

  I’ve got a tattoo on my face…

  On my FACE!

  His heart was thundering so hard, he thought his his ribs were going to crack.

  I’ve done it… I’ve really done it…

  A firm, resolute voice broke through the noise echoing in his brain.

  Yes, you’ve started it, and it’s too late to back out now, so don’t freak out and cause Ivan to make a mistake.

  Cameron gritted his teeth and shut his eyes tight. The pain was incredible. Scorching. Buzzing. Raking. It felt like the needle was white-hot, scalding his flesh as it gouged his skin a dozen times per second.

  His hands were shaking. Ivan noticed and said, “You hanging in there, pal?”

  Cameron nodded faintly as Ivan pulled the needle away. “It just really, really hurts.”

  Ivan smiled, revealing several gold teeth. “That’s the best part. The adrenaline rush from getting tattooed is a lot different from the high you get from something like bungee-jumping or skydiving. It’s the pain, man. It’s like an orgasm or something. It’s so awesome and terrible at the same time, it’s like…man!”

  Cameron couldn’t help but smile at Ivan’s almost religious fervor. “Well I’m waiting for the adrenaline to kick in. Right now it’s just pain.”

  “Oh, just wait my friend.” The needle buzzed with sinister excitement. “Just wait.”

  ****

  Pain. Lots and lots of pain.

  Ivan was right; there were moments of near-euphoria, but they would vanish instantly as the needle stabbed his cheekbone or rattled his temple.

  Cameron fought to keep the tears at bay. His knuckles were white as he clung to the armrests as if he were in a plane spiraling out of control. He imagined a demonic monster laughing maniacally as it split his skull with a massive chainsaw, blood and bone and hair spattering against the walls.

  Fire… Blood… Pain…

  He heard a voice, distant and hollow. He couldn’t trust his senses; every nerve in his body was tingling, and the left side of his face felt like it was melting. He was certain he could smell burning flesh.

  “That’s it, man,” Ivan declared, scooting his chair back a couple of feet. “You’re done.”

  Cameron was paralyzed. He lay on the chair like a corpse, staring blankly at the white lamp hovering above his head.

  “Cameron?”

  It was Chucky’s voice. Cameron slowly turned his head, stretching the neck muscles that had been clenched as tight as bowstrings for the past two hours.