Trash Polka - 9. Chapter 9

Glancing back and forth from my reference to the stencil in my hands, I hummed softly. The stencil was in two parts and would cover an entire ribcage. I adjusted a little, trying to line them up as perfectly as I could. It was two Foo Dogs and I was excited. This was a style I didn’t usually do. When I’d started tattooing, it'd been with a main focus on American Traditional and had evolved from that. This was of the Japanese persuasion and had taken a lot of research on my part to make sure I was respectful and did it right.

I don’t know that my client even cared that much. He had said something about his family being Buddhist and this tattoo being a right of passage in their family. I’d gone down a rabbit hole and had been set on making this one of the best pieces I’d done recently. Everything in this style was done for a specific reason. Down to the weight of the lines and the chosen colors. He’d been stoked when he saw the stencil and it was validating. Had I also run the design with a huge ass watermark through every forum I could find? Yes. Did I also now posses at least three books on Irezumi and Japanese tattoos? Also, yes. Hyper-fixation was a special kind of madness and I wasn’t always thankful for it. This time was different. This benefited me directly.

Anyway, all this had led me to a serious lust for my own tattoo in the style. I’d need to find an artist. I should go to Japan. Other than myself, Lukas was the only other artist I’d trusted my skin to. He’d done almost my entire torso. Or at least the pieces I couldn’t get a good angle on. I liked trying new things and experimenting, but Lucas was different. His focus was black and grey and as the years passed, he’d started focusing on portraits. Big, hyper-detailed portraits. Like, take a family photograph and copy and paste it with a tattoo machine. His skill and talent were insane, but that wasn’t the work I wanted. Portraits weren’t my thing. I’d never seen or met anyone in my life I wanted to immortalize on my skin.

This flashed into my mind as I pulled out a permanent marker to tweak things a little. Tongue flicking against my tongue ring, I backed up, “Alright man, check that out.”

He stood and turned this way and that in the floor length mirror, “Dude, it’s sick.”

“Rad, leggo.”

He hopped back up and sprawled out, getting as comfortable as he could. He popped in some earbuds and I rolled my eyes to the ceiling to thank whatever gods were smiling down on me. Focusing on my craft and my music would make for an awesome day. I put on my own headphones, turning on a random playlist. My eyes darted over his skin, one last check to make sure the composition and position were right. It was important that the tattoo fit his body. He would be stuck with it for the rest of his life. Hopefully. I never wanted to hear someone come at me and say they covered or lasered off one of my pieces because I wasn't thorough and committed to detail.

I bobbed my head to the beat, letting the drum beat slam through me. Licking my lips, I pulled the skin taut. His eyes met mine and I inclined my head. He nodded and we got to work. Everything faded away and I mouthed along to the words as I worked. The music I listened to was an odd mix up but it was a perfect representation of what it was like to be in my brain. It started heavy.

"Blame it on the monster in my head

Blame it on the stranger in your bed

But you can’t take, take, take much more"

My regular thoughts took a vacation. They dragged my intrusive ones along with them. As per usual, my entire world narrowed down to my client and the piece. The songs playing through my headphones became far away. I could hear them still but I wasn't really registering them. My world was wiping down, checking my progress, and repositioning my grip on the skin. I swallowed and shifted back in my seat to get a look at it from a different angle. Yeah, this was going to be impressive when it was done.

"There were moments of gold, and

There were flashes of light

There were things I’d never do again

But then they always seemed right"

There was a steady vibration against my hip and I took a second to pull my phone out. It was an alarm. We’d been going at it for three hours. With long sessions, I set alarms too. Are you getting the pattern here? To function like a normal human, I had to have outside interference. I could sit and drag out an all-day tat. I had to remember that people needed breaks from pain. Luckily, this guy was a regular and I was familiar with his limits. I’d checked his expression as I went and he seemed fine. He had a near permanent grimace, but there was no faulting him for that. He was getting a huge tattoo on his ribcage. I’d been there. It sucked. He was handling it like a champ. Still, people had limits.

“Alright. Get up and stretch or something. Get food, go for a short walk. Something.” I said grinning. He got up slowly and I grinned at him. People who jumped up and acted like they were going to launch into parkour right away freaked me out. Lightheadedness was a thing. On top of that, there were a lot of people who didn’t seem to realize they had a large open wound on their body. It could be hard on you in unexpected ways. He was used to sitting for long stretches and so I didn’t need to worry about it, luckily.

He stood in front of the mirror, “Hey, it’s coming along!”

I gave him a thumbs up as he left the room. I forced myself to get up and stretch, then cleaned up and prepped to get back to work when he came back. I stripped off my gloves and leaned against the wall as I looked down at my phone.

[K: You’d think that with all the airports I’ve been in, they’d become less tiresome.]

[R: Are you secretly 80 years old? Tiresome? Plus, you strike me as a first-class kind of guy so you’ll be fine.]

[K: I have been traveling far too long for your sass today.]

Someone called my name and I set my phone down. I frowned a little as I made my way to the front. Cameron tried hard not to bother us when we were doing full day sessions. Then again, he’d seen my client leave for his break. Hopefully something wasn’t wrong.

“What’s up?” I asked and immediately froze in my steps.

“Hey! You told me he couldn’t come up! See! You just had to ask.”

The girl who came in with Kenji was standing at the front counter. Cameron and her were engaged in a downright venomous stared down. Cameron was formidable but there wasn’t a creature on the planet that could beat a teenage girl in the venom department.

‘Heyyyya!” She called, waving her hand at Cameron as if to dismiss him. Well, de-escalation it was. Though, I was a little nervous to step in between the two.

“Hi there. What’s going on?” I asked as I stepped up behind the counter. Cameron took off to the back immediately and I cringed. Poor Lukas would now be tasked with disarming the bomb that was his husband. Luckily, no one was as good at that as Luke was.

“I just knew that after you pissed my brother off that you’d be one of my favorite people!” She waved again and I smiled uneasily.

“Oh, that so?”

“Yeah, I was wondering what the rules for tattoos are?” She asked, smiling at me.

I’m not sure that I registered how small she was. She made up for it though with that personality. Maybe she’d gotten it all after her brother. She wasn’t in the school uniform today. That was confusing. It was a weekday. Smaller humans went to school during the week. It didn’t seem right that she was in a tattoo shop alone when she could be…learning.

“Roughly the same rules as piercings, but I wouldn’t do it even with a guardian’s permission. No offense little one, but you’re so young. So, so young. I don’t tattoo people under 20 very often and under 18? Sorry, no way.”

She frowned and it turned into a pout, “Why not? Money’s not an issue. My brother wouldn’t care. Probably. Maybe. He signs things all the time without reading them. It’s basically his job.”

“Sorry, doll. Not going to happen. Not from anyone in this shop. It’s policy.”

Her eyes narrowed, “That’s not fair.”

Great. All I wanted was to bang her brother and now I was getting dragged into drama with his little sister. I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the counter. She wasn’t being aggressive, though, she just seemed…sad. I sighed and rubbed my cheek.

“Listen, come see me in four years. That’s all I got for you princess.”

She stared at the jewelry counter, brow furrowed, for a long moment. Then she sighed and shrugged, “I guess that’s fair. Thanks for talking to me about it.”

I blinked and nodded slowly. She was being downright mature about things. I hadn’t been expecting it. Now I was caught off guard. It was unusual for people to come in so hot, get shot down, and not have the entire conversation crash and burn. She smiled up at me again and gave me a thumbs up, “I do want my smiley pierced though! Ken-Ken said no, but what does he know?”

I laughed as she waved at me once more before whipping around and bouncing toward the door. My client held the door open as she bopped out. I watched her get into the car and shook my head. I bet she was trouble. I couldn’t imagine having to be the one to control that absolute force of nature. It’d only get worse as she got older. Cameron returned to the front. Lukas must not have a customer right now because his husband’s hair was messed up a bit and his lips were kiss bruised.

“Feel better Cammy?”

He shoved me as I retreated to my room and I chuckled. My client followed and we tapped back in. The little break was nice, but now it was back to work and I could feel my mind settling.

I’d been home for a couple hours, sitting in front of the dragon wall in my apartment when my phone rang. Or, vibrated rather aggressively. Brush in hand, I didn’t look as I hit the answer button and raised my phone to my ear, “Henlo?”

“Hi honey.”

I stopped. Blinking, I held the phone away from my face and checked the name on my screen before bringing the phone back, “Mom?”

“Are you busy? I know you’re always working on something.”

Her voice was full of emotion and I tried to remember what part of the year it was. Had I forgotten Mother’s Day? Her birthday? No, it was neither of those. If not, though, I had no explanation for why it sounded like she was holding back tears or had cried recently. We were in a good place. Or at least a good place for us. I called her once a month and on important days. That was the unspoken agreement. She’d been trying for a while now to build a bridge between us emotionally. After I’d left home, silence had stretched between us. There was physical distance. California to Iowa wasn’t a short trip. The real hurdle was all the pain and resentment. You can cross physical distance pretty easily. Years of hurt and trauma, not so much.

As a child, I’d never felt at home in my own home. When I looked back, the only happy memories I had were outside of the house. We were poor in every way. Yeah, money was a big obstacle, but that wasn’t all. My mother was so hurt and broken that our house became devoid of love. She didn’t know how to approach me. She didn’t know how to raise me after her heartbreak. It was just me and her for a long time. Years alone that she spent taking pieces of my heart to stitch hers back together. Now, I wasn’t sure I had anything left for myself. Let alone to give to her or anyone else.

I spent my formative years struggling and stumbling towards goalposts that my mother was constantly moving. If I achieved what she expected of me, I would be questioned for not going above and beyond. If I was so good at something, why didn’t I really apply myself? I swallowed and shook my head, forcing a smile onto my face.

“I’m not busy, ma. What’s up?”

There was some sniffling, “I was cleaning up and found some old photos.”

I shifted, setting my brush down and balancing my phone on my shoulder to wipe my hands, “Oh?”

“River, you’ve always been such a beautiful child.”

“Thanks. I guess pat yourself on the back for that one. You cooked me.” I said as I went to drop my brush into the water, double checking it wasn’t my tea.

“What did I do to you?”

I froze and accidentally dropped the brush, missing the cup completely. Cursing softly when diluted paint splattered all over I glared at the mess, “Uh, sorry what?”

“You were so beautiful and happy then it just drains from you. Around eight years old.” She was crying now. I could hear it and I heard her trying to stifle it too.

I remembered that year. She’d enrolled me in after school classes for Spanish and French. Then, one day I’d gone over my hour of video games and she decided I had all together too much free time. She’d started me in piano lessons the next day. Only after a huge meltdown and some interference from my schoolteachers did she refrain from throwing violin in there as well. I remembered. My brain felt fried. I didn’t know up from down. The structure part was great, but I hardly had time to breathe and as pressure mounted, I stopped sleeping regularly.

“River?”

“Yeah, I’m here mom.”

“I can’t believe I did this to you. God River, it looks like you had the soul sucked out of you.”

I cringed at the phrasing and closed my eyes. It was two years after that when I started struggling to remember to eat and take care of myself. Luckily, I got breakfast and lunch at school. On weekends, my mother would work doubles and I’d have homework from both school and my additional lessons. I had to practice piano too. Which meant biking to the church since we couldn’t afford a piano.

“It is what it is ma.”

“I don’t want this to be us for the rest of my life River. I’ve taken so much from you. God, when I should’ve been nurturing you and giving you somewhere safe, I-“

She broke off into sobs and I grimaced at the sound. We’d not been on good terms for a long time, but she had been trying. Even if she hadn’t, it was my mom. I didn’t want her to hurt. I didn’t want to listen to her suffer. I swallowed and looked up at the ceiling. My chest felt tight and my whole body tensed.

“The pictures brought all this on?” I asked softly, crossing my feet at the ankle as I continued to sit on the ground.

“Kim Smith’s son just came back into town. He and his wife just had a baby. They came to church.”

I winced. Oh fantastic, Brandon Smith has a whole ass wife and a baby that they brought into Sunday mass. I’m sure my mother would love it if she knew I’d posted pictures off my asshole on the internet the day before.

“Oh?”

“I wanted to go see the baby, but then I just couldn’t move. I was glued to the pew. I felt like I almost had a heart attack. Nancy Bishop threatened to call an ambulance. You know how she is. All I could think about is how you’d never come back here if you started a family. How, because of everything I’ve done, I might never know the love of your life and my grandchildren.”

I sighed, “Mom, that’s not true.”

“It is River! Don’t lie to try and make me feel better. I’ve never made you feel safe. Why would you share your life with me? God knows I don’t deserve it. I pray so hard for you and I wouldn’t have to if I’d just been a good mother.”

“Mom…please.” The corners of my eyes were burning and the weight on my chest was significantly heavier. I had not planned on emotional turmoil tonight. It definitely was not on my mobile calendar. I took a breath, “Christ, please stop crying.”

“Do I still have time Riv? Can we fix this? God, I miss you every day. I didn’t know how good I had it when you were living at home.”

“Ma, take a few deep breaths. Just breathe for a couple minutes. You sound like you’re spiraling and it sounds like you had a panic attack in church. It’s okay alright? We’ll figure it out.”

If possible, the crying got worse, “This is so wrong. You’re such a good boy. I’ve mistreated you and here you are comforting me when you have every right to hate me.”

“Mom.” The crying didn’t lessen, “Ma, c’mon.”

She kept going and I cringed as she started breathing in rough pants, “Julie! Listen to me!”

She was quiet for a few seconds and I heard her trying to regulate her breathing, “Listen, god. I don’t hate you. Okay? I’m not gonna lie and say that you were a perfect parent but I’m fine. I’m alright. We’ll work on it. Yeah?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to have a come apart like a child. I’ve got myself under control.”

“Great, listen, we’ll figure it out. Please just don’t freak out again. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

She was quiet for a few minutes and when she spoke again, her voice was what I remembered. Soft, but strong and clear, “Yes we will. I will make sure of it.”

“Okay, isn’t it late there? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“It is late but I think I’m going to be up a little longer looking at photos.”

“As long as you don’t make yourself break down again.”

“To be honest River, I think maybe I need to. I’ll get it all out and then when we can finally talk again, I won’t be such a blubbery mess.”

“Whatever works for you I guess.” I mumbled, wiping my cheeks with my sleeve.

“You taking care of yourself baby?”

“Uh, yeah. For sure.”

“Eating? Getting out in the sun?”

“Mom, I’m fine.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t push. How’s Alec doing? I see Mae around sometimes.” My mother let out a disgruntled noise, “She’s always thought she was so much better than everyone else.”

“Mom.” I rolled my eyes, smiling a bit, “Alec’s good. You know how he is. Modest genius.”

“River, you are just as smart. I’ve always known that. You could’ve done anything.” She took a breath and I closed my eyes. This is where she’d tell me I was wasted on tattooing and art. I mentally braced myself for it.

“I follow your page on that gram thing. The things you do River…I didn’t know they were possible with tattooing. They’re works of art and you look so happy.”

Shock descended and I tried to formulate a reply as I stared at a random point on the wall. She’d never said anything nice about it. She’d always belittled me or tried to steer me back toward schooling. The only way our conversations didn’t fall into screaming matches was because I double majored. At least that way, when I decided to stop “wasting my time,” I had something to fall back on. No matter how many times I’d told her that engineering was soul crushing and depleted my will to leave, she wouldn’t abandon her dreams for me.

If she changed the script, how would I be able to stay ahead in the conversation, say the right thing, and prepare myself ahead of time for the emotional abuse?