Page 4 of Omega Artist
It’s become a common occurrence with my new set of friends over the past two years. Must be why Soraya’s overreacting; she’s jealous that I don’t spend as much time with her. These friends are much more understanding and know how to party. Hard. Occasionally we take it a little too far, but we’re not addicts—except when it comes to tattoos. Soraya and I will forever be friends, but our relationship went south as my behavior did.
I see black. Rolling onto my stomach, I growl, and my arms instinctively cover the back of my head to protect my face from another assault of cold water. Yeah, yeah, I’m well aware that’s useless. Being stoned, plastered, and miserable will do that to you.
“Wake the fuck up, asshole!” This time, the masculine voice is unmistakable. Strong hands grab me and I’m right back where I started this morning—or afternoon? “You heard her! Get a hold of yourself and fast.”
“Tig, come on!” Soraya’s voice is a notch softer. “Enough is enough. How many times have we been through this over the last two years? We’re through with playing nice. You’re gonna be thirty in a few weeks, and you’re living like a college student. You can’t go on like this.Wecan’t go on like this...” I open both of my eyes and squint at the painfully bright light that fills the room. Soraya’s boots are gone, and she’s wearing thick black tights under a red mini-skirt that matches her hair.
“Baby, I’ll go fix some coffee or whatever I find in this mess.”
I sneer at his thinly veiled insult. It’s true, though. I haven’t been myself for a long while.
From where I’m lying in my bedroom—how did I make it to the bed?—I see his legs moving to leave the room, then hear the cocky man’s voice from afar this time. Stuck-Up Suit, like Soraya called him when they met. Back when my beloved Delia was alive. At the realization, my heart clenches and my body stiffens. As content as I’d be for a specific part to follow suit, that hasn’t happened since my wonderful wife died. I never took interest in another woman. I never played the field. I never loved anyone else. I’m not kidding. My mind, body, and soul belonged to her from the moment I set eyes on her as a teenager. Before we met, I had a few meaningless girlfriends, but Delia was my soulmate. I didn’t tell her that I adored her more than anything in this world before she took to the road that day. I didn’t show her how much I worshipped her before she took to the road that day. I didn’t kiss her like my life depended on it before she took to the road that day.
I fucked up big time… Fuck, I miss you so much! Will you ever forgive me?
“I’ll be back in a minute to throw his sorry ass in an ice-cold shower. That’ll bring him back to life.”
Graham’s words cut through the haze. He’s right. I died the day Delia’s car was hit by a drunk driver. And to think that I blamed her reckless driving when the surgeon mentioned a car accident. I didn’t have enough trust in her, and I feel so ashamed. I feel so guilty. I feel so empty.
Soraya kneels in front of me, her hand rubbing over my buzz cut. “Where did your beautiful brown curls go, Tig? What haven’t you done to punish yourself? Why don’t you realize that you’re not the only one who lost someone that day?” Her previous anger has been replaced by another emotion. Her trembling voice betrays the sorrow that her next words confirm. “Delia was my best friend, just like you are. I can’t lose you, too. I won’t survive it.” The heavy sigh that follows is my wake-up call.
I’d never thought of it that way. It takes me another hour to get cleaned up.
I study this perfect couple, sitting around the small round table in my colorful kitchen, which is a stark contrast to my current state of mind. We each have a mug of green tea that I don’t remember purchasing; maybe they brought it over, worried I only had booze in the house.
“We care about you, asshole.” Damn, that’s the nicest thing that he’s ever said to me. He slaps my wasted bicep, and I wince.
I’ve lost so much weight. I’ve become a pathetic, empty shell. I’ve lost so much muscle mass. I’ve become a shadow of myself. I’ve lost so much common sense. I’ve become a sleep-deprived partier. Parties where I mostly keep to myself. Parties where I drink to oblivion. Parties where I forget my pitiful life.
“And it’s not as if I have a choice. After all, despite your impression of me, you fixed my tattoo to help prove my love for this woman.” Graham points at Soraya with his thumb and grabs a chocolate chip cookie from the open package. “I guess I’ll always owe you since it helped me win her back.” Speechless, I simply watch him eat the damn cookie and take one once he’s done.
Oh, this is good. What a nice change from liquid calories.
“Look, we’re here to help.” Soraya adds. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m still your friend, dumbass. You’ve gotta make a choice whether you want to spend your nights wasted or rejoin us in the real world. I’ve let you go through the different stages of grief. Now it’s time to make a decision. Either you’re in or out. At some point, making Claire a partner was the right move to prevent closing the parlor. You remember the details, right?”
Remembering wasn’t part of the deal. Consequently, Soraya fills in the blanks. “While you’ve been skipping work, she’s been keeping the clientele happy and managed to hire Drake, a talented friend of hers, part-time as a tattoo artist.” I nod, clueless. “He used to work at a parlor near Tribeca that closed down because the owner moved to Bali.” Oh, that rings a bell! I’ve missed out on so much. “Marco and I have been updating your website and keeping your social media platform in motion, as well as posting your art and Delia’s. Clients continue to be loyal, but they miss you… It’s not too late, Tig.”
Graham downs his entire cup of tea in one go, then states the obvious. “You’re lucky to have a friend like Soraya, man. She threw her weight behind your business while dealing with Delia’s loss coupled with you going off the deep end.”
Thanks for that, Stuck-Up Suit, even though you’re wearing jeans and a sweater today. You know, I turned heads, too, once upon a time.
I can see his finger approaching, and it flicks against my forehead before I can react. “I invested some of your money so that your lack of activity wouldn’t take a toll on your bank account. It’s a good thing you had quite a bit saved.” What he fails to point out is that the money was probably from Delia’s life insurance. Money that Soraya had access to, just in case…
“Thank you, guys… I… I’m sorry,” I admit, looking them in the eye.
“Good, you’d better be! You’ve got to stop with your destructive habits… Losing Delia was a tragedy; there’s no question about it. But you’re still here, among the living. Come back to us, please.” Soraya reaches for my hand and covers it with her much smaller one. “We’ll get you the support you need, just say the word. Say that you want this as much as we do, have a little faith in us, and you’ll see… however cruel this world may be at times, there’s still some good in it.” She offers a timid smile and I shrug. “And Tig, this is your last chance to win me back. I’ve had enough. You understand?” Her tone is bold and reproachful. “I’m warning you, once and for all. I can’t take it anymore, so you stop this right now or I’m walking out of your life forever. I miss the old you. No matter how much I want him back, you’ve got to want him, too, and try harder.”
She’s super pissed, but I’m relieved that she cares enough to say her piece after all I’ve put her through. Soraya deserves better than a shitty best friend. The love that I have for Soraya is stronger than my misery.
“Lorenzo and Chloe miss you, too, man.”
“I’m sorry for letting them down, Graham.”
“Apology accepted.” Graham says. “Practice being a decent godfather and set a good example for our kids, okay?” Then he firmly shakes my hand. Suddenly, I’m envious of his assertiveness. I feel like shit. “Speaking of the kids, don’t forget to thank Genevieve for babysitting them next time you see her.” Graham’s ex had been such a bitch to him and almost succeeded in making Soraya break up with him. I can’t believe that he forgave her; I tell him so. “It definitely hasn’t been easy, but I’m convinced that it’s what’s best for Chloe. Our daughter needed us to act like grown-ups, even though we’ll never be a couple again.”
“I’m sure the fact that Genevieve remarried clarified boundaries that remained blurred in her mind for too long.” Graham lets out a bitter laugh at Soraya’s quip. “So, Tig, here’s the number of a coach that you might be interested in. I figured that a shrink wouldn’t be a good fit. You’re not the talkative type and repeatedly expressed your… distaste of shrinks.” She offers a confident smile. “You’ll see, he’s different.”
“How do you know about him?” At my question, my friend stares at the floor. “Come on, Soraya, tell him. It won’t jinx anything now. You should be proud!”
