Tattoos: A Novel (7 page)

“Drink up,” Zeke said. He laid a pitcher of draft beer and two spotted glasses on the table next to us. I knew that if the owner got wind that we weren’t all twenty-one like we’d told him we were, the beer would have stopped and so would our gigs.Thankfully Max had a friend who was a pro at making fake ID’s otherwise we’d be out of luck everywhere.

Max practically pounced on the refills. Even though Zeke and Max were best friends they couldn’t have looked any more different than they did. Zeke was short and pudgy with a thick mass of blonde curls that could have rivaled Jimmy Hendrix’s afro. He was supposed to wear glasses all the time but since he hated them they were always in his pocket, causing him to perpetually squint. Generally he dressed like me, in jeans and graphic t-shirts.
 

Zeke poured himself a drink and sipped at his beer as if it were bad tasting medicine. Seeing him do that always made me wonder why he drank at all.

“Did you see Emma?” Zeke asked with an evil grin. He was more than aware that the last person I wanted to run into was Emma. I’d dumped her a few months back and she hadn’t taken it well. The problem was that Emma was a little bonkers and if you looked psycho-bitch up in the dictionary, Emma’s picture would be right next to it.

“Are you screwing with me?” I said, shaking my head.

“Nah, I saw her too, I can’t believe that you didn’t. She was all over this guy in the back,” Max said.

I blew out a relieved breath. By the sounds of it, Emma had moved on. At that exact moment I felt a tap on my shoulder. Max and Zeke snickered in unison. Even before I’d had a chance to turn, I knew who was behind me.

“Emma,” I said.
 

The name felt like poison in my mouth. If there was anyone in the world that I could absolutely live without seeing ever again, it was her.

Her brown hair fell in soft waves, framing a face that most people might find pretty or creepy, depending on their opinion on dolls. Her eyes were artfully made up to look much larger than they were and were as green as emeralds and fake as a two dollar bill. Her lips were a severe red and painted into a too-small mouth that was cartoonish against the geisha girl white makeup that she wore. She had a sleeveless fitted one piece hot pink dress that came to her mid-thigh, showcasing her ghostly white slender legs. Matching ballerina slippers finished her scary ensemble.
 

The thing was, Emma liked to look like a doll, which in itself should have steered me clear of her. But since I’d met her when she hadn’t been wearing her doll guise, I’d fallen into her trap. It wasn’t until after we’d dated for a couple of weeks that the skeletons, or in her case the dolls, came out of the closet. By that time I’d already liked her enough to accept her weird obsession.

“You look so yummy up there, I just wanted to bite you,” Emma purred.

“Go away freak,” Max said under his breath.
 

My shoulders instantly bunched. Emma wasn’t the type to mess around with, she didn’t just get mad she got even. I cut an icy glare at Max. He made a zipping his lip motion. I turned back to Emma. Based on the dreamy smile she sent my way, she hadn’t heard Max’s quip. Her smile sent shivers through me. It also made me remember how she’d gotten even with me after we’d broken up.
 

It had been more than a dicey situation when she had left a scorpion in my jacket pocket. The only reason I hadn’t got stung was because when I’d reached into my pocket for my house keys, I’d been wearing a pair of gloves. Until that day I didn’t realize how truly sage Gran’s advice about dressing for the weather had been. Suddenly and without warning, the image of the Tower flashed in my mind and I wondered if this was the girl that was going to bring my world tumbling down. If there was anyone who could do it, it was Emma.

In that moment I was kind of happy that Gran had done my cards. Even though I knew it was completely stupid, I was on alert for danger. Being prepared, meant I might be able to avert disaster.

“Break’s over,” the bartender yelled over at us. I practically collapsed into a puddle of relief.

“That’s my cue,” I said with a wary grin. Emma seemed perturbed by the rebuff
 
but didn’t say anything. She tilted her head to the side. In a move I hadn’t expected, she wrapped her arms around my waist and took my mouth in hers. Her mouth was sloppy wet. She tasted of cigarettes and beer. A cloud of cheap perfume surrounded me. Her tongue flicked between my teeth then she pressed her full body against me. The action made me wonder why I’d ever been attracted to her in the first place. Before I had a chance to pull away, she broke the kiss. With a smirk she strode away, her mane of dark hair bouncing as she moved.

“I think I just threw up in my mouth,” Zeke said.

“Me too,” Max said, elbowing Zeke in the ribs lightly. “That girl is just plain nasty, and look she left you a reminder of her.”

“What?” I said, giving him a blank stare.

“You’ve got that skanks lipstick and white crap all over your face,” Zeke said.
 

He handed me a bunch of napkins from the dispenser on the table. I took them, scrubbing the offending marks off my face. I shook my head.

 
Obviously Emma wasn’t quite finished with me yet, which more than gave me the creeps. I didn’t want anything to do with her, but having her as an enemy would be hell on wheels. I grabbed the mic. When the music keyed up I started to sing. This time instead of getting lost in it, I couldn’t pull my gaze off Emma, staring at me with a determination that had me wanting to run for cover.

7. Marilee

My first cycle of chemotherapy began quite uneventfully. They had hooked me up to the pump and after an hour or so I was done. Unfortunately it had been just the beginning. There was so much more “fun” to follow.

 
I’d heard that you didn’t usually feel too bad after the first few treatments, and that only after the chemo built up in your system you’d start to feel it. That was exactly how it had happened for me. The drugs they had given me to combat nausea worked pretty good. It meant that even though my appetite was down, I could force myself to eat. I knew that if I didn’t eat I’d only regret it. That didn’t mean it was easy. Food tasted strange, and although I didn’t exactly feel sick, my stomach felt jittery.

The hospital tried to give me things I usually liked to eat but nothing was even remotely appealing. Harold had even brought me in some hummus and veggies, usually one of my favorite things to eat. I’d only managed to get down a few bites before the taste of metal in my mouth made me gag. Eating only got worse when a week and a half later, red raw sores formed inside my mouth. That’s when I started to give up on the whole idea of eating, since everything I put in my mouth only served to irritate my already tender mucosa.

I picked at the cheeseburger and fries that Harold had brought in. He had come in for a visit over his lunch break. Since he’d made an effort to visit me, with tremendous difficulty I ate three fries and one bite of the burger. I nodded my approval doing my best to appear grateful.
 

“My hair is starting to fall out,” I said.
 

A few days before, I’d noticed quite a bit of hair on my pillow. I’d been warned that I was more than likely going to lose my hair, but it was still devastating to have it actually happen. I knew that for anyone, losing their hair was a huge deal, but I assumed that for men it was a little easier since a bald guy wasn’t as shocking as a bald girl.

Harold’s expression was grim. He shook his head a few times. The silence lengthened between us. I knew telling him about my hair loss would make an already awkward visit worse. Neither of us mentioned it but the fact remained that Mom hadn’t darkened the door of the hospital in over a week. She hadn’t even bothered to be there for my first chemotherapy treatment.
 

The first few times I’d asked Harold where she was, he’d always given me the same generic statement, that she was busy and that she’d make it over soon. Harold knew as well as I did that it was all bull. Mom didn’t come because she didn’t want to. My sickness didn’t fall in the parameters of being the perfect daughter she had expected me to be. That didn’t mean she didn’t go around acting like an emotional wreck for all her friends, eating up their empathy like it was the finest chocolate.

“Well, your oncologist did mention that it would probably happen,” he said, running a small hand over his bald patch. I felt bad for ever having made fun of his hair challenged head. He had no more control over losing his hair than I did. Mine would eventually grow back, his wouldn’t.

Unexpected tears swam in my eyes. Contrary to the promise that I had made to myself to not let it get me down, I felt my resolve crumble like a piece of dried out cake.

“It’ll be okay Marilee,” he said. I gasped, because it was the first time he’d actually called me by the name that I preferred. It might not have seemed like much for anyone else for him to call me Marilee, but it meant the world to me.
 

Choking sobs built in my throat. Before I could stop them they rushed out in a torrent of misery. His arms came around me. He stroked my hair gently. As he did, I couldn’t help but think that soon he wouldn’t be able to do that anymore, because I’d be bald. He held me for a while, not saying a word. When I’d finally settled a little he released me.

“You’re strong, I know you’ll get through this,” he whispered. For the first time ever I saw tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. Witnessing his humanness made me almost break down again.

“Um sorry, but do you mind if I change the garbage?”
 

If it had been anyone else I would have been pissed off, but it wasn’t anyone else, it was Jax. Between tests, chemo and sleeping more than I’d thought possible, I didn’t always get a chance to talk to him, but Jax was as present as the color on the wall, blending in but also bringing a sense of familiarity with him. He was always around and I found myself growing to depend on the regularity of his presence.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” Harold said.
 

He peeked at his watch, stood up and gave me a peck on the cheek. He nodded in Jax’s direction then disappeared out the door.

Jax locked his eyes on me.
 

“Are you okay?” he asked. The way he said it made me believe that it wasn’t something he just said out of courtesy, he actually cared.

I nodded, because I wasn’t sure if I could speak without losing it again. It seemed that since I’d been diagnosed with cancer I couldn’t bottle my feelings away anymore. In fact everything I felt seemed more intense than before.

Jax moved toward me. To my utter shock he sat in the chair that Harold had just vacated.
 

“It’ll grow back,” he said.

“What?” I said, a note of incredulity in my tone.

“Your hair, it will grow back. When it first comes back, it may be a little different than it was before, but eventually it will all go back to normal.” He gave me his one dimpled grin. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“How did you know? I mean how did you know I was upset about my hair falling out?” I asked after a few beats had passed.

He shrugged, then rubbed the back of his head as if he was slightly uncomfortable with the question.
 

“It’s the right time and…I’ve seen it happen a lot, patients you know…” He cut his eyes away from mine then brought them back to my face.
 

“And besides if I’m being honest your hair looks a little thinner than before, not that it looks bad or anything, just you know, different.”

Heat warmed my cheeks. I knew that my hair was thinning out, but in my opinion it was by no means noticeable. But he’d seen the change which made me understand something with perfect clarity. I wasn’t as invisible to him as I’d thought I had been. He had seen a change in me that had been so subtle that even my best girl friends might not have caught it.

 
I knew I was probably reading too much into it. Maybe Jax was just hyper-observant and had an uncanny ability to see things that others couldn’t. Maybe his observations weren’t reserved for me alone, maybe he had a photographic memory or something. But somehow I didn’t think that was the case.
 

“Anyway I better get to the garbage,” he said, standing again. His huge frame loomed over me like a dark angel. I was struck by his ability to sweep away my negative thoughts with just a couple of words. For some reason I believed him when he said it would all go back to normal. In fact believing his words seemed like the only thing that kept me anchored.

“I wish I could hear you and your band play some time,” I said out before I even thought about what I was saying. For some reason being around Jax made all my inhibitions fall away. Whatever thoughts swirled in my mind just came out.

He smiled. This time it hit every part of his face. Seeing him like that made me feel almost like I was caught in a brilliant light. It felt so good to be there with him that I wanted to stay there forever. He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his coveralls. If I hadn’t known better I would have thought he was a bit embarrassed. I didn’t think someone like Jax, a person who seemed to have everything figured out, and owned every part of who he was, would ever feel that way.

“I play in mostly dives, not really the kind of place that people like you would go
 
to,” he said with a chuckle.
 

Indignant anger made my face go hot again. I knew what he thought, that I was a stuck up rich girl who would turn my nose up at the places he’d hang out. I had to agree that before I’d been diagnosed and had an expiration date put on my life, I might have thought the places he played beneath me, but not now.
 

Being sick hadn’t taken long to convince me that cancer didn’t pick and choose according to where you lived, went to school and partied. The nicest room in a hospital was still that, a room in the hospital.

“You might be surprised by the places I go,” I said.