I’m in no mood to deal with customers, much less talk to anyone. But, maybe it’ll give me something productive to do, time to think. I need to figure out if I’m going to keep this whole thing with Jake going.
“Sure,” I reply. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Tossing the phone on the counter, I walk to my room, pulling off the clothes Jake let me wear home. I chunk them to the side, landing near the trash can. I’m not actually going to throw them away, but it’s where I feel they belong right now.
The screeching sound of the hangers sliding across the rod in my closet is loud amidst the quiet of my apartment. I shove clothes aside trying to find a tank top. Something that makes me feel empowered, and not as small as Jake’s mother did today.
Finally, I find my black tank top with “Lady Boss” written in gold glitter. I pair it with a denim mini skirt, throw on my Converse and head out the door. I don’t even spend the time to put on my make-up or do anything with my hair. It’s a messy bun kind of day.
* * *
As soon asI open the shop door I understand why Corey called me in to work today. There are people occupying all the seats in the lobby. Some are even standing against the wall, patiently waiting their turn.
Sophia is at the front counter, hair thrown up in a ponytail with a pencil sticking through it. She looks completely frazzled. When she sees me, she sighs with relief.
“Thank God you’re here, Charleigh,” she mutters. “It’s been a crazy day. Adrian called in sick, Corey is booked up the rest of the day, and Bianca is being her usual bitchy self and only taking certain clients.” She catches her breath. “I have no training, so I’m exactly zero help.”
“Take a deep breath, Nat.” I tell her, placing my hands on her shoulders to help her calm down. “No worries. We’ve got this. Send me whoever is up next on the list.”
I’m in my work station, getting everything set up, when an older woman comes in and takes a seat in my chair. She’s mid-forties, but she looks sad. Like all the life has been drained out of her.
“Hi, Ms.,” I glance down at the form containing all her information. “Hernandez. How can I help you today? Is there anything in particular you have in mind?”
“Hi, I’m not really sure what I want. I need something for my son.”
“Okay, we can definitely do that. What are some of his favorite things.
She gives me a list of sports and activities that he liked, as in past tense. And, already my stomach is knots because this isn’t someone who just wants to commemorate her relationship with her son. No, this is a mother in mourning, and it breaks my heart.
I know I always said I wanted to make art and do tattoos that mean something to people. But…I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. Not after the way Jake’s mom made me feel. And definitely not after the wayhemade me feel.
But, I’ll do it. Because this…this moment right here is very important to Ms. Hernandez. I start drawing out some of the things she mentioned, basketball, guitars, and a few other small items. Trying to find a way to integrate them into something cohesive.
In the end, she doesn’t really like any of the designs. Instead, she wants a heart on her should blade with his name and birthday. Not the day that he died, but the day he was born. The day that gave him life.
When I’m done, I hand her a small mirror, and she turns it and her body toward the mirror so she can catch the reflection. On her shoulder blade is a heart shaded with blues and grays. Blue because it was her son’s favorite color. And gray to signify the pain she feels because he’s no longer with her. She looks it over in tears as she remembers the life her son had, the joy he brought into her life, and realization that the pain will never truly fade.
She sniffles, trying to find some sort of composure. “How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing,” I reply. “Consider it a gift, an act of kindness.” I can’t charge her. I can’t make her pay for a memory of someone she’ll never see again.
She tries to argue with me but I stick to my refusal. I was able to give this mother a reminder of her son. A way for her to always carry him with her.
I clean up my station, getting it ready for the next client. My emotions are all out of whack, and I hope I can get myself under control before the next person walks through that door.
Sophia is at the front counter, giving estimates of how long the wait will be. Some people are happy to wait, while others walk out disgruntled. I pick up the form on top of the pile, but she stops me. Placing a small stack of bills in my hand.
“What is this for?”
“Your last client left it.” Sophia sniffles. She either heard the conversation, or Ms. Hernandez told her. “She told me to make sure you took it, and to say thank you for giving her a beautiful tattoo to remember her son.”
I nod before walking back into to my room calling for John to follow me. I hope this one isn’t as heart shattering as the last.
* * *
It’sone in the morning and we’re all finally winding down. There are no more customers in the shop. Nobody else wanting a memory forever inked on their skin. I’m tired down to my bones as I help Sophiaclean up the lobby. Help her make sure everything is ready for a new day tomorrow.
Of course, Bianca has to come out of her room and ruin the rest of my night. “Does your uncle know that you did a tattoo for free?” She sneers, putting all of her pettiness on display.