"She wouldn't really be into someone like me, not seriously. Not a man with my past and the mistakes I've made." I could hear the sadness in my own voice and it made me feel pathetic. I quickly had to remind myself how far I’d come and stop before I fell into a negative spiral of self-doubt. I was recovered, I was strong. I’d left my demons behind me in my old life and they couldn’t follow me here.
I felt Pearl's hand on mine. "Look at me, Duke." When I didn't do as she commanded, she raised her voice. "Don't be disrespecting me. When I ask you to look at me, boy, you do it!"
I glanced up, straight into her piercing blue eyes.
"You're a good man through and through. You've made mistakes, but you've moved past them. Let go of the past and leave it behind you."
"She's smart this girl, Pearl. She's finishing her degree, going on to get a master's. She's also younger by quite a few years and maybe even more in experience. She's got her whole life ahead of her. She doesn't need to be brought down by my past.”
I couldn’t even wrap my head around trying to tell someone what I’d been through. How I’d been to hell and back and made enough mistakes that it was pure chance I was still alive. I’d gone so low chasing highs that I got to the point where I didn’t know up from down anymore—right from wrong—night from day. I was a walking breathing ghost with a hunger for only one thing. And that one thing was equivalent to a death certificate.
Pearl took my face in her hands, forcing me to look her directly in the eyes again. I loved Ozzie’s mom, but she was an intense old broad.
"So are you. You got your life together, you came back, and got your GED. Made something of yourself. She'd be lucky to have a good man like you by her side. You're worthy of love, Duke. Don't you ever forget it. You got that?"
I nodded my head, not really believing her words, but knowing the only way she’d leave us alone was if I acquiesced to her compliments and agreed that I was the greatest thing on god’s good earth, second only to her husband and son.
I nodded again assuring her that I was in agreement.
"I'm gonna finish setting up my chair, just send the next client back when they get here," I said.
I walked away to be alone with my thoughts. At least I could do that now without falling apart.
Somehow, the idea of unveiling my past to someone felt shameful, like what I had to offer could never be good enough after I’d screwed it up so fucking much. I wanted to offer Maddy something beautiful, something sacred, but the only thing I had that fit that description was my sometimes fragile, sometimes elusive, but so-far reliable sobriety.
"Don't forget to moisturize," I said to the young girl. She’d come in with her friends to get a butterfly tattooed. I liked working on bigger pieces, real canvases for art where I could let my style live and go wild. But the young people who came in for their first or even just a meaningful tatt, had an infectious excitement that made me love my job. For this girl, it was her first and she’d wanted it right on the back of her neck, so she could cover it with her hair. She gazed into the hand held mirror so she could see her back in the mirror on the wall.
“I feel like such a badass,” she exclaimed.
“Oh, butterflies are what all the badasses ask for.” I joked with her as I applied saran wrap to her neck. I tossed her a tin of aftercare, and she smiled at me.
“Use that twice a day, don’t shower tonight, and when you do, get it wet, but no abrasive scrubbing. Just your hand with some soap will do.”
She looked as proud as a peacock walking out with her friends, her shoulders pulled back and a smile lighting up her face.
"You got a delivery, Duke!" Ozzie hollered from the front. He came back to my space wagging his eyebrows. He threw a thumb over his shoulder toward the counter up front.
“What, dude?”
“Your coffee arrived and it brought a girl with it!” Ozzie’s excitement was at the same level it was when we got a pizza party in middle school. I sprayed disinfectant on my chair and wiped it down quickly. My heart thrummed in my chest like some sort of haywire rubber band.
"She's cute. I get why your dick is sailing your ship now."
Fuck. Did I ask her to come back here or should I meet her up front? What if there are other clients and they’ll see how nervous I was?