Ink Is Thicker Than Water (28 page)

“Sara, this is our
family
. It’s the most important thing in our lives.”

“I just…” It feels like such a revelation seeing Sara unsure of anything, but maybe I’ve just never allowed myself to before. “I don’t know.”

“You
do
know,” I say, even though who knows if that is true or not! I am on a mission. “Sara, we cannot be people who sit back and just let stuff happen. We have to be more than that.
Right
? We have to fix this.”

“Oh, fine,” she says. “I don’t see you letting up anytime soon.”

I leap to my feet and do a victory dance, not caring that the place isn’t exactly empty. Not only is Sara coming back, but it’s definitely safe to assume I’ll never be considered useless again (except with math). “Let’s go do it.”

“Yeah, you’ll need my research skills. Come on, if you’re quiet, we can go use the college library.”

I call the shop while we walk over. I assume Jimmy will probably answer, but it’s a relief when he actually does. Through very little effort, I find out Mom is working late and Russell is already off. So after our few minutes of research (Sara really does have mad skills), Sara and I drive home, like it’s a normal day, even though of course she’ll have to drive me back to my car later.

“So.” She takes an opportunity to glance at me as she merges onto Big Bend Boulevard. “How’s everything with Oliver?”

“We’re actually on a break.” Ooh, I am using TV relationship lingo for real. “I sort of messed up with him, too. But there’s also him being kind of…intense.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how much you know, but…that’s why I was initially wary about you going out with him. It was never that you weren’t good enough.”

Maybe she’d been butting in, but I do like that she was looking out for me.

“So, I know it’s not really my business, but…I totally get why you felt like you needed space from everyone, but Dexter—”

“It’s just never really been easy being with him,” she says. “I’m this total nerd who just cares about school, and for some reason this hot, popular guy
likes
me. And I’ve always tried to ignore how it shouldn’t work at all, but the more I was feeling truly accepted as I was, the less I could stand the thought of trying to be cool enough for him.”

“You are an idiot,” I say, but nicely. “Dexter is frigging crazy about you. Yeah, you’re a school nerd, but he is, too, sort of, and you guys like all the same stuff, and he thinks you’re gorgeous, and he is going totally insane over the way you’re treating him.”

She laughs. “I should have talked to you about him sooner.”

“Yeah, you should have! And you’re calling him later. I will dial your phone myself if I have to.”

“I promise,” she says, pulling into our driveway. “You don’t need to go that far.”

“Can I ask…have you guys done it?”

“You can ask, sure,” she says. “But no. I’ve been so stressed about school and college applications. We’ve agreed to wait until we get our acceptance letters.”

I can’t help it. I laugh really loudly. “That’s the nerdiest sex plan ever.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.” She grins at me. “What about you?”

“Yeah, that happened. Before the break. Yes, I was careful, yes, he was nice, yes, it was great.” I never expected to experience anything big before Sara, but it doesn’t feel like some life contest. It just feels like how we’ve always talked, and I’m so glad one less topic is off the table now. “I kind of wish it wasn’t over. Does that seem crazy? Even with knowing about the whole Alice thing and all?”

“It doesn’t sound crazy at all,” she says. “Dexter says he’s better. And your judgment’s good, Kell. If that’s what you want, it can’t be too crazy.”

Coming home has never felt so scary and awesome simultaneously. Everything looks exactly the same—I’ve only been gone a few weeks, what did I expect?—and it smells the same, too. That sounds weird, but houses definitely have scents, and the house on Summit Avenue smells like Mom’s giant collection of vanilla candles at all times. Even though she isn’t there, it makes me miss her just a little less.

This is how it goes: we say sorry, Russell has practically forgiven us before we even speak. There is more hugging—especially enthusiastic from Finn. I make some dumb joke about how you
can
come home again, and not only does Russell laugh but Sara does, too. I let Sara lay out the plan and watch Russell’s face slowly light up like sunrise after too long a night.

Sara and I go back to Dad’s afterward, all part of the plan. Dad is—not surprisingly—very low-key about my sister’s return, which just feels like the universe clicking back into place. I, on the other hand, want to make a really big deal, shout it out like Finn had, leap around and praise the heavens. Someone like Sara, though, wouldn’t love that, so instead I give her little smiles whenever I can, and at the end of the night, I give in and hug her. The good news is that she hugs back really tightly.

“Don’t ever leave again,” I say.

“I have college next year,” she says. But her arms stay wound around me. “By then I’m sure you’ll be dying for me to go.”

“Probably.” I grin at her again before taking off to my room. I text everyone while working on my homework, but not about anything big or important, just the regular stuff. As always, being alone with my phone can be dangerous, and tonight’s no exception. I scroll down to Oliver and click to text him.
i miss u. can we talk soon?

He doesn’t respond immediately, which I take as a good sign that he’s working on his intensity. But my phone lights up my nightstand once I’ve turned the lights off to sleep, and his response is exactly what I was hoping for.
Of course. Call me when you can.

Sara and I walk into The Family Ink at four. Russell just grins at us, but Mom leaps up from her station, her eyes wide and a smile threatening to break loose from her lips. “Girls!”

“Hi, Mom,” Sara says, and Mom’s grins breaks out full force. Right away I know everything will be fine.

“Sara.” She hugs her for a really long time. “You look beautiful, sweetheart. Your hair’s amazing.”

“Think you can copy it next time?” she asks. “The salon’s really overpriced.”

“Definitely,” Mom says, but I hope Sara gets less sentimental by the time that rolls around, because Mom can definitely not handle those perfect blond highlights, no matter what she thinks of her skills. “Kell-belle.”

In a weird way I’m pretty sure I’ve let her down more, but still she hugs me for just as long. “I’m really sorry, Mom.”

“Oh, baby, I know.” She pats my head like I’m a dog or something. “It’s okay if we don’t always get along, you know. My mom and I fought all the time when I was your age.”

“That’s not me, though,” I say, which is kind of silly because even though things are fine, it isn’t like I’m suddenly never going to argue with Mom again. It feels good to say, though, and from Mom’s expression it probably feels good to hear.

“Girls, I’m really sorry, but I’ve actually got two back-to-back appointments starting any minute. After that I’m probably free so—”

“We know,” Sara says.

“We’re your back-to-back appointments!” I shout, even though I promised Sara she could say this part. Sometimes I worry my emotional age isn’t that far ahead of Finn’s.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard ’em.” Russell carries over the design we’d requested. “Here you go, Mel.”

“But!” Mom stares at us, her blue eyes wide. It’s such a Finn expression I giggle. “Is this a joke?”

“We really want to do this,” Sara says. “We did some research on family coats of arms. And we gave Russell the Brooks and Stone ones, and he combined them so—”

“Stone,” Mom says. “Our name, really? Not—”

“We thought about your maiden name,” I say. “But Stone’s the name you picked, and it’s Russell’s name, and Finn’s name, too. So—”

Mom bursts into crazy tears, and I throw my arms around her to calm her down. (Of course she just cries more.) “You two are serious about this?”

“Like the plague.” I worry the design will get crushed in the mayhem, so I hand it off to Sara. “So come on. You’re eating into our appointment time.”

She laughs as she wipes away her tears. “You’re not even eighteen, young lady.”

“Russell’ll sign for me. Come on.”

“Who’s going first?”

“Kellie.” Sara shoves me toward Mom. “Right?”

“I guess I have to.” Up until now I haven’t really fully considered I’ll be actually getting a tattoo today. I’ve only seen a million, but this is going to be mine, and therefore is going to hurt
me
.

“Where are you getting it?” Mom asks, and I also realize I haven’t considered that much yet, either. But my bicep seems a good choice. Lots of people can see it, but I can keep it hidden when I need to, and also it isn’t one of those stereotypical girl places to get inked. I’m not starting off with that.

Mom rolls up my sleeve, cleans off my skin, and presses on the transfer design, just like I’ve seen her do a million other times for a million other people. She tells me to walk to the full-length mirror so I can decide if I like the placement or not (I do, and Sara and Russell approve, too). The Brooks coat of arms is topped with a little lion, while the Stone one has a lamb, so it is totally like destiny knew we’d do this one day and got Mom and Russell together accordingly. Russell designed the animals to face each other, which is like the cutest thing ever obviously, but he did it in a way where it doesn’t look cutesy. Within the shield part, he combined the funky little turrets of the Brooks shield (Sara promises me it doesn’t necessarily mean we were historically warmongers or something awful) with the eagle and flowers of the Stone one without making it look crowded or messy or ill-planned.

It is seriously good we’re family because there’s no way Sara and I could afford artists of Mom’s and Russell’s caliber otherwise.

“This is so funny.” Mom lines up little tubs to hold the different color inks, securing them in place on the Saran-Wrapped counter with Vaseline. “I guess I thought I’d give you a tattoo someday, but never so soon.”

“You have to tell me exactly how much it hurts,” Sara says to me.

“I don’t think it works that way,” I say.

“The pain’s part of the process,” Mom says. “Don’t you want to feel like you earned it?”

I don’t know about that, but all of a sudden the tattoo machine is buzzing, and Mom is moving it in my direction. It’s a lot louder when it’s coming right at you.

“I’m just going to do a tiny bit,” Mom says. “So you’ll be prepared. Okay?”

I nod.

“Breathe out, Kell-belle.”

I do, and the tattoo machine is on my skin for just a second. It is sort of like a very direct bee sting, maybe not even that bad, though one you can’t slap away. “I thought it’d be a lot worse.”

“It isn’t that bad,” she says. “Also, you’re a tough one.”

“Also, that’s not really a painful place to get one,” Russell calls, but I decide to ignore him and dwell on being tough instead. I watch my reflection in the mirror as Mom slowly does the outline.

“This is such a milestone,” Mom says. “My first tattoo changed my life.”

“How did you know?” I ask, because even though I’ve heard the bluebird story a million times, until now I’ve never really thought about what led up to it, only what came after.

“It’s hard to explain. I just
did
. All of mine, I knew. Even my tree, which took the most planning—” She gestures like I won’t know what she’s talking about, when the magnolia tree, inked by Russell, growing up the length of her inner left forearm isn’t exactly easy to miss. Russell sports a matching one inked by Mom, as they’d gotten them in between their wedding and honeymoon. “I just knew this is what I wanted. I’m definitely more me than without.”

I try to imagine Mom without her ink, and my mind grinds to a stop. “Well,
yeah
.”

The outline’s finished, so she switches off to coloring in the tattoo. The shading hurts way less than the outline—it’s a fatter needle—and it goes just as fast as I’ve seen hundreds of times for other people.

“Okay, baby, I think we’re finished.” Mom wipes the tattoo a few times, cleaning off the excess ink and blood. I can see in the lighter spots that it’s still bleeding, but not really that much. And who can’t feel like a bad-ass with a still-bleeding tattoo? “Go look in the mirror. Sara, I’m getting a soda, and then you’re all mine.”

I walk over to the mirror, examining my newly inked arm. “It looks good, right?”

“It does,” Sara says. “Russell, you did a really good job with the design.”

“Thanks.” He nods toward Mom in the back room. “This is a really good thing you girls are doing.”

“We just wanted cool tattoos,” I say, which makes him laugh.

“Right.” He looks from Sara to me. “Good to have you both back.”

Mom rushes out with a Diet Coke and her camera. “Russell, take a picture of Kellie’s arm for me, would you?”

“Of course.” Russell takes the camera from Mom and zooms in on my tattoo. “You know they’re addictive, right?”

“All the customers say so. I don’t know what I’ll want as badly as this one, though.”