Tattooed Moon (9 page)

“Actually.” She grinned. “The tea was really good, surprisingly good.”

“No need to be surprised. I told you it would help.”

She smiled and shook her head, then handed him the sketch. He opened it up, nodded and tossed it to the side.

“Now, do you wish to keep the design as is?”

“Yes, I believe so. I really like that.”

“This is for the rest of your life, so be sure.” He walked away from her and locked the door, tugging on it for insurance’s sake.

“I thought you wanted my business? I thought you wanted me to be relaxed?” she joked. “I
know
it’s permanent. You’re making me want to rise up and bolt right on outta here.”

He looked over his shoulder at her and cracked a grin.

“Don’t do that. I just don’t want anybody doing something they regret. Obviously I like tattoos. Look at me.” He rolled his shirtsleeves way up to his shoulders, exhibiting a tapestry of images he’d collected over the years.

“Those are really nice, Julian. I like that one, right there.” She pointed to the silhouette of a baby with clouds all around him.

“Yeah.” He looked at it. “That’s one of my favorites, too. It is of my son.”

He couldn’t believe it, but he saw a glimmer of something reminiscent of hope leave her face. As if, wielding a large pin, he’d let all of the billowy air out of some magical dream she was fostering. He normally didn’t discuss the matter, but felt compelled to at this point.

“I was very young when I got married, only eighteen.” He moved towards his supplies and slowly revealed them from the silky material. “The marriage only lasted a year. We’re still friends. She’s getting married again, actually, I think like next week…a destination wedding. At the time though, neither of us should’ve been married. This is a tribute to what she and I created.”

He witnessed a perplexed look come across Milan’s face.

“Our son didn’t make it. She lost the baby, seven months pregnant. It was a hard time, for both of us. We weren’t mature enough to handle that sort of loss.” He swallowed, and collected himself. He hadn’t discussed it in quite some time, and never with a customer.

Milan’s eyes now held something he’d seen one too many times—a look of regret, of discovery mixed with smidgens of sorrow. She appeared to withdraw within herself, on the hunt for the right words.

“Oh, Julian, I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, as if afraid to even speak.

He shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ve had years to process what happened, to grieve and move forward.” At least, that was what he told himself. “This happened, you know? It was part of my life. I married my best friend. She and I went to high school together, we loved one another, but we weren’t a good couple,” he explained. He wasn’t even sure why he was laying all this heavy stuff at this woman’s feet, but she seemed to need to hear it, more than he needed to hold it close, keep it hidden. Besides, there was nothing to conceal and every time he thought of his son, he smiled a bit on the inside, too. This was good, he surmised, for now; this discussion meant that
someone
else in the world knew his baby, too… That made his child all the more
real
.

“We had this experience, and it bonded us together. I’ve endured all sorts of losses, Milan. That’s one reason why I can empathize with you, you know? I lost my father to a motorcycle accident just ten months ago. I can’t show you, it’s on my back, but I have a tattoo in his memory as well.

“Two of my really good friends also perished in the last three years. It’s been one loss after another. If it wasn’t some disease, it was an accident or some act of nature.” He folded his hands across his chest, clad in a white T-shirt. “I understand that, for me, death is just another level of life.”

Milan remained quiet, but her eyes spoke a whole lot. He was feeling rather talkative with her, believing somewhere deep inside of her, she needed to hear what he had to say, as much as he desired to share it.

“I don’t believe our spirits can ever be destroyed once they are created. I believe that whole-heartedly. The death of
this
,” he pinched his flesh wrapped around his wrist, “is just our shell, you know? All this ink, I can’t take it with me. But I have it now, while I am walkin’ around in this temple, in this human form. Later, I’ll have something else, or maybe a new human form, I don’t know. But, I do know that death isn’t it. For many, it’s just the beginning.” He sighed. “Sorry to go off on a tangent there.” He grinned. “Just explaining my philosophy about it is all.”

“No, I appreciate that, I really do.” And then, she cut it short, but her lips were still parted, as if she wanted to speak a bit more. He decided to break the silence, let her off the hook.

“Hey, would you like a cup of tea?”

“I think I need to be awake for this, Julian,” she quipped.

“Not chamomile.” He grinned. “How about some white tea? It relaxes a bit, not to the point of sleepiness though, and has great antioxidants that would help infection.”

“Oh well, sure, yeah. That sounds just fine.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back. Um, before I go, I’ll need you to remove your shirt.” He winked, then turned and headed out the door to fix a hot, relaxing elixir to help soothe the woman’s wound up nerves…

‡

M
ilan found herself
clearing her throat over and over in the most grotesque way. She hated when that happened, a feeling usually brought on by stress and anxiety.

He’s bringing tea…good. He keeps winking at me, too.

She bit her inner lower lip, stifling a smile at the revelation, but just as fast as that smile was born, it went away to live its life somewhere else.

Poor man lost his child. That had to have been horrible. Then lost his father to a motorcycle accident, and friends, as well. My father is gone, too…

She suddenly realized that she’d been wasting time, sitting there in contemplation. He’d told her to undress, yet, her shirt was still on, and a cold chill ran down her spine.

Of course I have to take it off…but I only have my sports bra under here. I don’t want to be in front of him with only my bra on! Why didn’t I wear the tank top? That’s what I get for dressing flirty, instead of thinking this through. I must be desperate… This man isn’t even my type. I couldn’t keep a relationship after Mom got sick, and here I am, jumping on the first man I see, just silly.

She snatched at the buttons of her red, sheer shirt, angrily tearing them apart from the holes. She loved that blouse, but now, it took a beating as she took out her angst and worries against it. She flung the shirt on the nearby table, slumped back down and ran her hand through her hair as she waited, smoldering in her own thoughts. Soon, the door opened, and there the man was, holding the cup of tea and a silvery-blue bag.

“The crowd will be thinning out some, but you are safe back here. No one will see you or walk in, or anything.” He re-locked the door.

What she found so amazing was, the man didn’t size her up. He didn’t try to get an eyeful; he simply went on about his way as if nothing out of the ordinary were taking place. And why wouldn’t he? She smirked a bit. Surely he’d seen his share of half nude bodies in his place of employment. Hell, probably even completely nude. She was small potatoes. He handed her the warm cup.

“Thank you.” She took a hearty sip, regretting it once she realized it was a wee bit hotter than she’d anticipated.

“You’re welcome. Now, are you still getting it on your upper right shoulder?”

“Yes, that way I can cover it if need be, you know, but not need long sleeved shirts necessarily.”

He nodded in understanding as he grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a bag of cotton balls.

“Finish your tea if you wish, then when you’re ready, lie across the table on your stomach.”

She took a couple more sips, nervously set the cup down, then looked both ways as if waiting for crossing traffic. Looking down, she noticed he’d laid a clean, white towel along the table. She laid her chin on the headrest and looked straight ahead, at a calendar with red numerals. She wished she had a fast forward button, especially once she heard a chair moving about, the wheels rolling around as if in a doctor’s office.

Oh shit…

She sighed as she heard him wearing gloves, snapping them in place.

“Milan, I’m going to explain everything that I’m doing, step by step. You have nothing to worry about.” He gave her a reassuring tap on her upper back and then, before she knew it, he poured the cool liquid on her arm and made gentle strokes, cleaning the area.

“I’m just cleaning the tattoo site, getting it ready. After that, I’m going to shave the area. Once I do that, I will clean it yet again. At that point, I’m going to make some lines on your skin, points of reference, in order to get the outline of the tattoo complete. Any questions, sweetheart?”

Did he call me sweetheart? He did. Just let it go…

She shook her head.

“Okay, good.” He scooted up a bit closer to her and, after applying shaving cream to her shoulder, he took out a small, wet razor. Suddenly, he rose and moved away, as if he’d forgotten something on a stove and rushed to switch it off. The music came to an abrupt halt.

“Is something wrong?” she called out.

“No, not at all.”

But when the music changed, she gripped the table and sucked her breath. He’d put on Delibes’ ‘Flower Duet’—the one song that always turned her into an emotional mess.

It’s still… so… beautiful… takes me right back to resting on her lap…

“Is that okay, Milan?”

“Mmmm hmmm…” She was speechless. There were literally billions of opera songs in this big, wide world, yet he’d somehow chosen one that she and her mother adored. To make the whole situation even more heart stopping, he lessened their distance by drawing near, his crotch close to her face. Like a gentle wind, he placed a yellow rose behind her ear—eliciting a small scream and a smile—then returned to his seat.

“Okay, let’s continue.” He just went on, as if what he’d just done was customary. A few minutes later, he was outlining her skin.

“This is called a thermal-fax. This method is far faster than the old school methods we used for tracing, which, many times, were by hand.”

“Oh boy, that kinda tickles…” She smiled, looking next to the calendar at a silver-framed mirror, which allowed her to see him more clearly.

“Does it?” He offered a crooked smile, his eyes glued to his work. Boy did he have a beautiful smile… She looked at him a bit closer, taking liberties as the mirror allowed her to steal secret glances.

He is so sexy… What am I saying?

“I’m just using a little deodorant as an adhesive. It’ll be over in just a moment…violà! It’s on.”

“Mmmm, that wasn’t so bad.” She laughed lightly.

“Yes, if only it were that simple.” He smiled indulgently. “Milan, now, I’m going to place these ink caps, which is the ink coloring, into this machine here. My tools have been sterilized. I’ve already got the distilled water here for cleaning the needles during your procedure. In your case, I will only be using black, white, a little green, yellow, orange and a little brown. The colors are for details in the flower, it will allow me to draw contrast, causing the flower to appear realistic in appearance.”