Page 101 of Under the Ink

“And we prayed and prayed.”

Sitting on the grass away from the sidewalk, Naomi swiped a tear off her cheek and took a long, slow breath. She was getting nowhere and this conversation wasn’t helping. It was possible that she’d never be able to make her mother understand what had happened to her. And, although she’d probably be happier without them in her life, she didn’t know that she wanted to completely cut her parents off.

“Keep praying.” But she didn’t believe it would help her. After all these years, she didn’t knowwhatwould. It reminded her of her skin underneath the tattoos. Those scars where she’d inflicted pain on herself would never return to their original state of smooth, unblemished skin. She was beginning to believe her soul—her heart, her mind, her everything—was represented by the skin covering her bones, indicative of what was inside.

She would never return to the way she was before Jacob put his filthy dick inside her. And that had been solidified when Mrs. Rodenbeck had been so nasty to her, accusing her, blaming her.

“It wasn’t my fault and I didn’t ask for it. And praying to God hasn’t made me feel better. He hasn’t come down here to heal me.” Her mother’s silence felt like lead…heavy, toxic, smothering. So she forged ahead. “I know praying helps you—so please…pray if you want. But I’m trying to figure out for myself what will help.”

“If you give yourself to God and trust…it will.”

It wouldn’t. But Naomi was talking to a brick wall—and she was wondering if telling her mother everything she’d held back for so long had made her feel better or not.

So she didn’t say a word, instead choking back the tears that had started flowing.

Tears she didn’t want.

“Honey…your dad and I are just worried because you’re not right with God. I know our trials and temptations here on earth don’t make sense. Why does one person across the world starve while we eat well here? Why is one baby born with defects while another is perfect? Why does one person get Alzheimer’s while another is lucid till death? Why do some people get in horrific car crashes while others never even dent their car? These are questions we’ll never know the answers to—but I do know this: God will never give you more than you can bear.”

“What does that even mean, mom? That’s easy to say just because I’m alive.”

“Yousurvived, Naomi. Our trials are not meant to be easy. They’re meant to strengthen our faith in God…to believe that he is there for us—and our reward will be waiting for us in heaven. That’s all dad and I want for you. You are storing up treasures in heaven—and we want you to walk the straight and narrow way so you can enjoy those treasures.”

But she didn’t believe any of it. Even if there was a God and heaven, she didn’t believe it would be the way the people at church thought it would be. And how could a truly loving God punish her after she’d already been punished here on earth?

“I’m taking one day at a time…walking the path as best I can.”

“Let us help you, sweetheart. I—we’reworried about your eternal salvation. And we want to help.”

But their help wasn’t what she needed.

Not by a long shot.

“I’m not worried about my eternal salvation right now. I’m worried about today. Now.”

Because if she couldn’t save herselfnow, eternity—or even tomorrow—just didn’t matter.

“Honey—”

“Can we please talk about something else, mom? Like…tell me howyourjob’s going.”

The rest of their conversation, Naomi kept her mom on light, unimportant topics, trying to get her emotions under control and shutting her mother down every time she tried heading back.

She’d thought coming clean with her mother would help. Maybe her mother hadn’t understood the extent of what had happened to her. But, whether she did or not, her mother blindly believed that nothing here mattered unless it drove a person closer to God. So talking with her was futile, something Naomi had concluded the day she’d left their house. Why she’d insisted on trying again, she didn’t know.

But shedidregret this entire conversation, because all it had done was to keep everything at the surface, all that shit Naomi had tried for years to bury.

Somehow, she knew…all those chickens were coming home to roost and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

PORTLAND, OREGON

AUGUST 30

Less than two weeks before Naomi would be leaving…and Sage needed to talk to her. Not only did he want to broach the subject of having her come back after her friend’s wedding to be his permanent drum tech, but he also wanted to bring up more sensitive issues.

Things he knew she wouldn’t want to talk about.

So he waited until after the show that night, because he knew Naomi would be joining him in his room. They’d barely closed the door and she was all over him, kissing his chin while pulling up on his t-shirt. It was like a dream come true—a woman he cared about, ready and willing, eager to jump in the sack.

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