Page 89 of Damnation
“Yeah, I wish,” Thomas answers, making him laugh. Ryan shifts his gaze to me, not bothering to hide his surprise. When Thomas realizes that I’m getting embarrassed, he comes to my aid and takes my hand, as if to reassure me.
Ryan looks at our interlaced fingers, stares at his friend, and says, “Oh shit. Please say you didn’t come all this way to tell me you’re gonna be a dad?”
Thomas and I both start, our eyes bugging out. “What? No!” we answer in unison as Thomas abruptly drops my hand.
“Don’t you think I’ve got enough bullshit in my life?” He claps Ryan on the shoulder and brushes by him, going into the tattoo parlor.
Twenty-One
“Sorry for shooting my mouth off just now, but I don’t put anything past him.”
You don’t put anything past him, including knocking a girl up? Reassuring.
“No problem, don’t worry about it.” I should stop staring at him, it’s really not polite, but all those tattoos are mesmerizing. “That tiger looks great; does it have some meaning?” I ask, unable to keep my curiosity at bay. I point to the left side of his head where the drawing starts, ending around the back of his neck.
“Of course. Every tattoo has a meaning. In the Chinese zodiac, the tiger embodies strength, power, and passion,” he explains as we pass a spotless counter with some sketchbooks, a laptop, and some binders on it.
“And why did you choose to put it there?” I glance around in search of Thomas, who appears to have vanished only to emerge from a storage room holding three cans of Sprite.
“It was the only open space left,” Ryan laughs, gesturing for me to sit on one of the couches in the middle of the room.
Thomas pops the three cans, hands one to me, and then starts chatting with Ryan as if their period of separation never happened. They reminisce about the old days together; then Ryan tells us about how he’s putting some money aside because he’d like to open his own tattoostudio in California. He acknowledges the opportunity that Thomas’s uncle gave him but believes that the time has come to spread his wings and fly.
As I drink my Sprite and listen to them talk, I notice how Ryan avoids asking about the real reason Thomas and I are here in town. I’m sure he knows about Thomas’s father and his situation, and he probably doesn’t want to prod the wound. After a while, I decide to leave them to their conversation and wander around the shop, examining every detail, from the adjustable bed covered with a disposable sheet of paper to the stainless-steel tray set up next to it with a tattoo gun and a few packages of needles. I linger over the art on the walls. The more I look at them, the more familiar they seem. Only after a few moments do I understand why… Lotus flowers, a dragon shaped into an ouroboros, an hourglass wrapped in barbed wire…they’re the same designs that Thomas has tattooed on himself. These are his drawings. I smile to myself at the idea of his uncle putting them on display for the public. He has every reason to be proud.
I move at a snail’s pace, bewitched by the art surrounding me, until I find myself staring at a small display case full of piercing hardware of all varieties, small colorful gems, and leather bracelets. My eyes land on the lightest one: strips of leather twisted around silver threads to form an elegant, delicate braid with a clear stone in the center.
“See something you like, Ness?” My boyfriend’s lips brush my cheek and make me shiver as he grabs my hips.
“More than one thing. In addition to this bracelet, I couldn’t help but admire all the designs.” I cast a glance around at the walls. “They’re your work, right?”
He studies them with a look that’s difficult to decipher, a mixture of discomfort and nostalgia. Then he nods.
“They’re beautiful, Thomas.” I put a hand on his chest as I turn toward him.
“They’re just drawings.”
“But they’re your drawings.”
He rolls his eyes, kisses my forehead, and tells me we can go.
“Don’t disappear again, you hear?” Ryan says to Thomas as we tell him goodbye before leaving the shop. “And give me a call if he isn’t treating you right,” he advises me in a good-natured sort of way as he shakes my hand. I smile, assuring him that I will.
As soon as the door closes behind us, Thomas realizes that he’s forgotten his cigarettes inside. So, while he goes back for them, I wait outside for him. As I let my eyes wander, I realize there’s a man nearby, fifties, with a goatee and a put-together vibe. He’s leaning against a car door on the other side of the street with his arms and ankles crossed, and he’s looking in my direction. Even though it’s dark, he’s wearing sunglasses, so I’m not sure if he’s looking at me, but he makes me uncomfortable either way.
I hug myself and glance around. It’s almost half past six, and there’s not much traffic on the road around here. The stranger gives me a weak smile and waves a hand at me. Yeah, he’s looking right at me. I watch as he crosses the street toward me. Suddenly, a whole range of shiver-inducing scenarios start playing out in my head. I step back until I reach the tattoo parlor’s door, running into Thomas’s chest as he emerges.
“Hey, Ness, what’s wrong? You’re pale.” He takes my face in his hands, examining me carefully.
“I–I don’t know. There’s this man who—” I try to explain, but I’m interrupted by the man’s voice.
“It’s my fault. I must have spooked her; I didn’t mean to.”
When Thomas raises his head, his face changes radically, turning hard. He lets out an exasperated sigh, and I hear him swear under his breath. “The fuck is this? A reunion?”
“What?” I murmur, unsettled and confused.
“It’s great to see you again too.”
