Sophia
The guywho just stomped away is intense. It’s almost as if I offended him in some way. Does my naivete when it comes to tattoos show? I don’t mean to act like a complete newb when it comes to ink, but Life in Ink is fascinating. This is the first time I’ve ever been in a tattoo shop, and I can’t stop looking all around at the art that surrounds me. Some of them may have been drawn by Mr. Broody.
Maybe he’s having a bad day, and doesn’t know how to “people” well. Who knows, but I glance back as I follow Charleigh, and watching him walk away isn’t entirely a bad thing. Those jeans hug his butt just right. Ugh, Soph, stop ogling the hot guy. There is no room for men in your life, especially when the last one pretty much destroyed you.
Once I’m inside Charleigh’s workroom, I come to a complete stop. It’s not at all like I expected. All the shops I’ve seen on TV are filled with dark reds and black. This room is the complete opposite. Bright colors fill the room. I would go out on a limb and say her favorite color is some shade of pink.
“Did you expect something different?” she laughs, breaking me from my gawking.
I nod. “I figured it would be a bit more tortured artist.”
She shrugs, “Eh, broody isn’t really my thing.” I get it. A job doesn’t define your tastes. Neither does your passion. I only wish I could find mine.
Charleigh motions toward a chair placed in the middle of the room. “So, what are you wanting to do today?”
As soon as I sit down, I clasp my hands together. Rubbing my knuckles with my fingers. The nerves are creeping in, and images of infected tattoos plague my mind. This won’t be like that, though. I checked out the reviews before I called to schedule an appointment. Life in Ink is a highly recommended shop. “There are two that I want, but I’m not sure how I want them done.” My knee starts bouncing on its own volition. Wondering if she can tell how nervous I am, I place my hands around my knee to keep it still. “I was hoping you could help me with that.”
She studies me as if I’m a science project. “Sophia, have you ever gotten a tattoo before?”
Damn it, she noticed. I bet she pegged me as soon as I walked into the room. “No,” I shake my head. “Is it that obvious?”
“A little,” Charleigh laughs. “But it’s all good. We’ve all been there before, I just had the luxury of growing up in this place so I knew what to expect.”
“Will it hurt?” I feel like a total dumbass for even asking the question. Of course, it’s going to hurt. It’s a needle, going into my skin.
“That depends,” she sighs. “For some it can, but it’s more annoying than anything else.” She looks me over once again, and I can’t help but feel like she’s not comfortable giving me a tattoo. “Do you still want to do this?”
Fear of pain flashes through me, and I don’t respond right away. If it hurts, and I no longer want to finish it, the tattoo is going to look stupid. Being a burden to Charleigh is the last thing I want to do. With both of my feet planted on the floor, I almost decide to walk out of this room and never look back. I’m too troublesome for her since I don’t even know what I want. Giving myself a mental slap, I sit up straight. Dawson treated me like I was a bother, and I’m not. This tattoo is for me, and I intend to take back every part of me. Including being apologetic to those around me for no reason. “Let’s do this.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” She grins at me like she knew I was going to make that choice all along.
Excitement is starting to replace the nerves as I tell her what I want. “The words for one are ‘more than enough, I am not broken.’” I wait to see if she has anything to say, but she only sketches away in her notebook. “The second one is the word ‘Always.’”
Charleigh continues drawing, and sketching out what she thinks the tattoos should look like. She takes my words and makes them a work of art with intricate vines weaving through the words of the first one, and splashes of watercolor behind and around the second one. It’s more than anything I could have envisioned. “Do you like them?” She asks without looking up.
“Yes,” I screech. It’s not the most ladylike of responses, but she doesn’t even flinch at my outburst.
“Awesome.” She stands to get another set of papers from the counter. Placing the new paper under what she’s drawn out, she begins tracing the design. “What made you decide on these specific tattoos?”
“Well,” I pause for just a second to gather my thoughts. “The ‘Always” is from Harry Potter, of course. I’ve loved that series since I was a child, and it helped me through some pretty crappy situations in school.” Taking a deep breath, I continue, “The other is my little reminder to myself after reading a book called Revelry.”
Charleigh nods along as I speak. “I’ve never heard of it. I’m guessing you had a connection to it?”
Grabbing a water bottle from my bag, I open it. “You could say that,” I take a sip of water. “I had just come out of a pretty rough relationship. And I felt, I don’t know, like I wasn’t worth anything. I lost myself. But this book, it spoke to me. It made me realize that I am so much more.”
“You might be my new favorite client,” she squeals. “Most people come in here and get tattoos that hold no meaning to them. They just felt the urge. But you… you have put so much thought into this.” Pulling the top paper, she was tracing, away she holds up the design.
Her phone pings with an alert, and she takes a quick moment to respond. She grins while typing out the message, and I wonder who she’s talking to. It could be anyone, maybe a boyfriend. After putting her phone away in a drawer, she turns toward me. “You ready?” I give her a slight nod, and she continues. “You can still sit in that chair, but I’m going to need you to lean your arm across the table.”
Swallowing down my nerves, I answer, “Okay.”
“You’re going to do great,” she squeezes my hand in reassurance. “Just let me know if you need a break, and I’ll stop.”
“Sounds good,” a small smile forms on my lips.
Charleigh pulls a pair of plastic gloves out of drawer next to her, and makes a face as she puts them on. She must not like the way they feel. She flips a switch, and her tattoo gun vibrates. The sound startles me, and I jump. “It’s just the machine,” she answers my nonverbal question.
“I’m okay. I wasn’t expecting the noise is all.”