Tattoos: A Novel (25 page)

When I saw the sign on the door that said BUSY, I knew Gran was with a client. I was more than familiar with the drill. When she was doing a reading I had to pretend as if she wasn’t there at all.
 

I slipped past the kitchen, congratulating myself for passing through undetected. When I’d showered and changed I tried to leave the same way I’d come, unnoticed. I knew that wasn’t going to happen when I saw Gran standing in front of the door. I was more than shocked to see that her client was still there, a spread of Tarot cards splayed out in front of him. The man who seemed to be in his mid-thirties, with spiky bleached blond hair and who was dressed in a navy business suit with a burgundy tie, studied what must have been a flame card he’d just done.
 

Flame cards were one more divination tool Gran used. They were basically cue cards that were passed over the flame of a candle. Much like tea leaves, the soot marks left behind were studied for hidden images, and what Gran called messages. In my opinion they were just black smudges, but who was I to argue.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night. I know I scared you and for that I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice.
 

“No probs Gran, I’m sort of used to the weirdy moments you have,” I said with a chuckle. She narrowed her eyes as if she was ticked, then shrugged.
 

“I don’t claim to be anything less,” she said. I grinned, hugging her for a few beats then I released her.
 

“I’ve got to run,” I said. I was just about to leave when her face went slack and her eyes glazed over. I’d only seen this kind of thing happen to Gran a few times before and it had never been good. Much more intense then any minor blip where she blanked for a few seconds, these episodes or what I pegged as her messages of doom were downright scary.
 

After she’d had a few incidents where her face would go stony and she would stare straight through me as if she were blind, I’d insisted she go to the doctor. Subsequent to a battery of tests and way too many bills, the doctor had diagnosed her with TIA’s or Transient Ischemic Attacks. He’d explained that for some reason the blood supply to the brain stopped for a few seconds, it was like having a mini stroke, but the symptoms only lasted a few minutes.
 

When it happened a person could have numbness and tingling on one side of the body, dim vision and slurry speech. Gran never told the doctor the whole story though. Because when she had one of her “attacks” she’d say things. One time she’d said that a guy from my school, a known stoner was going to overdose. It hadn’t seemed that far of a stretch when it had happened. When she’d had one and predicted the caretaker of our apartment building was going to be killed in a car accident by tools, I’d thought she’d been crazy. That was until we’d heard that he had died in a car accident when he’d braked too fast and his tool box that had been sitting in the back seat had smashed into his skull, killing him instantly.

There were even more instances of when she’d been right, and none of her predictions were the kind you wanted to know about.
 

“Be prepared for when the darkness comes and the other shoe drops. Death is close for more than one.”
 

Her voice was much louder than normal, carrying through the apartment.

A shudder travelled down my spine. Cold sweat drenched me despite having just showered. I didn’t know what to say or do because this message seemed to be for me. Before I could respond, Gran blinked as if she’d rewound and was back to the spot she’d been at, when the message of doom had hijacked her brain.
 

She looked confused as if she’d woken up in a different place. When her eyes came to rest on her client she seemed to reconfigure her surroundings. In my opinion the client looked a bit on edge after Gran’s mini outburst. The card he’d been studying so intently just moments before, had fallen to the floor at his feet. She shot him a weak smile, which he returned but his smile was so much more diluted than hers was. It didn’t take a psychic to see that he wanted to get the hell out of there. Without another word Gran tapped her fingers on my shoulder absently and walked away. Halfway back to the table she stopped and turned to face me.

“Will I see you for dinner?” she said.
 

She already looked steadier but I felt just the opposite. Her warning had more than thrown me off my stride. Even if there hadn’t been any history with her messages of doom her bizarre behavior would have still freaked me out. Rather than get into what had happened I decided that I’d drop it, for now at least.

“Yeah, see you then,” I said. I wanted to forget the one sentence Gran had told me. I knew I couldn’t because if history was any indication of the future, something bad was coming.

18. Marilee

Mortified didn’t come even close to describing how embarrassed I was when the whole team to caught Jax and me together. Even so I tried to brush it off as if that kind of thing happened every day.

“I guess we should knock next time,” Dr. McClaren said. He tilted his head toward Jax who was just on his way out the door. I knew Jax had only planned on dropping by for a few minutes, but I wished we’d had more time together. In fact if I’d had my way he’d never have left me.
 

He’d filled me in on the details of his day, like he always did, and from what he’d said it might well be one of the worst days of the Peace Project.

 
I felt guilty that he was doing all the leg work, dealing with the emotions that came with the people he helped. Yet I knew it was impossible to be there. My immunity was crap after the chemo. It had been a bit of a stretch to go to the bar with Jax, in a public place, but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
 

Besides if I was being honest, despite the fact that the risk of contracting HIV was insignificant, being around someone with full blown AIDS like Joanna, the next person on the list, felt daunting.

“We have a bit of good news for you Marilee,” Dr. McClaren said, bringing me out of my thoughts. He flipped up the top of the metal clipboard in his hands then looked up at me. “Your blood counts have bounced back quicker than we’d expected, so you can start your next cycle of chemotherapy any time soon.”

I was speechless for a few seconds. News about my health hadn’t been stellar lately, so this came as a surprise.
 

“Do you mean that I could start before Christmas?” I said.

Dr. McClaren nodded. “You don’t have to start early if you feel it’s too close to the holidays, but I wanted to give you the option all the same,” he said. I had to admit that the news left me in a quandary of sorts. One part of me wanted to just go ahead and have it early to get it over with. The quicker I was done with my cycles, the sooner I’d be home, or at least I’d hoped so.

“How many days will it be?” I asked.

Dr. McClaren moved closer to the bed. His entourage of students, resident doctors and interns, who always seemed to look at me as if I was a specimen on display at a museum, were close on his heels.

“This course will be shorter than last time since it’s a different chemotherapy drug. So if you started soon you could potentially be done your cycle before Christmas. But remember Marilee nobody knows how you’ll react to the medicine, or how ill you might feel.”

I pulled my legs up beneath me and sighed. I liked the concept that the amount of days would be shorter, but the uncertainty of my response to the chemo left me wary.

“You don’t have to decide anything right away. Of course I’ll have to discuss this with your parents too. If you prefer we can just leave everything as is, and start the next cycle in early January,” he said.
 

The mention of my parents agitated me. I didn’t want them to have the final word on my treatment. I was sure if they had their way they would prolong my stay just so they didn’t have to deal with me. I might have been paranoid, but in the time that I’d been in the hospital I’d got the distinct impression that Mom and Harold did just fine without me, maybe even better.

“I want to do it now,” I blurted out.
 

Dr. McClaren seemed surprised by my response, but he nodded all the same.

“I still have to talk to your parents and get their consent…” he started to say.

“I’ll call them and give them a heads up and also let them know that I want this,” I said. Already the wheels were working in my mind about how I could get them to sign off on the early chemotherapy. I figured if I approached them first then I could make the decision swing in my favor. I could build a case for it being the best choice. Besides, if I had the chemo early then going home for Christmas with them, not that the offer was even on the table, would be impossible. As soon as I thought about going home for Christmas I remembered my plans with Jax.

 
He’d seemed sincere when he’d invited me but he hadn’t mentioned it since, so maybe he’d forgotten, said it on the spur of the moment. It didn’t make sense to arrange my life around something that might not even happen.

“Okay Marilee, if that’s the way you want to do it then I’ll get the ball in motion and call your parents later today,” he said.
 

His smile was warm and gave me the security I needed to stay firm. Dr. Mc Claren left the room. His posse followed, their voices a low murmur as they talked about me. As soon as they’d left a sick feeling worked its way into the pit of my stomach. I was glad to move forward and be another step closer to being cancer free, but I also remembered the horrible things the last round of chemo had done to my body.

 
I wasn’t deluded into thinking that the second time around was going to be any better than the first, in fact it might be worse. Yet I knew that today or tomorrow or even next month I’d have to start the next round. Postponing the inevitable was stupid. I had to suck it up and move forward, that way I could put everything behind me.
 

Jax and I could finally have a normal relationship, one that didn’t involve, hospitals, doctors and cancer. We could go places and do things that regular teenagers did. Our one night out had shown me how good life could be with him. It had made me want more times like that. The only way my life was going to move in that direction was if I did what was hard, so I could eventually get better.

I punched in Jax’s number, hoping that I could catch him before he got too busy with the list. His phone went directly to voicemail which meant one of two things, it was turned off or dead. Knowing Jax, it was probably dead since he was notorious for forgetting to charge his phone. I’d never met a guy that was so focused on certain details and so flaky about others. But that was Jax, a study in contrasts. His quirks only made me love him more. No matter how inconvenient they might be at times.

19. Jax

The Peace Project had taken longer than I’d expected. I wasn’t surprised, I’d had a lot of ground to cover.
 
Number twenty on the list was the easiest of the day since it was none other than our neighbor Tazleo.
 

On his last drug bender he’d bailed on paying his bills and because of this he’d lost his power and cable. Since his water and heat were included in the rent at least he still had those amenities. Even so, it made for tough times when he tried to make a meal for himself or more importantly, watch Oprah reruns. I’d managed to get his power turned back on and paid his arrears, but getting the cable television back was another story.

Tazleo had a crappy history with the cable company. Since it wasn’t and essential service they could be a little stickier than the power company about restoring the service. Only after I’d paid a full year in advance had they agreed to turn it back on. A part of me felt a little guilty for spending Marilee’s money on something as trivial as cable television, but I knew Tazleo well enough to understand that more times than not, the only thing between him staying clean and using again was Oprah.
 

His body was already wrecked from all the years of abuse; I had no idea how many more benders he’d survive. If Oprah was going to keep him off drugs then it was money well spent.
   

I was drained and more than relieved to walk through my apartment door. I’d never done so many people on the list in a day, or a week for that matter, but with the holidays just around the corner I needed to get as much done as possible. Gran had been more than patient with me bailing all the time, but I knew that she’d have a canary if I tried to do it over the holidays.
 

Over the years Christmas had always been a special time for Gran and I. Where most people marked the year end by the completion of the calendar, Gran and I celebrated the end of the year a little earlier. We ushered in New Years on Christmas Eve. Only the people who knew us well, understood the meaning behind the tradition. My grandfather had passed away on December 24 which had obviously put a huge damper on Christmas that year.
 

I didn’t remember that Christmas because I’d been too small. I could only imagine how tough it must have been for Gran to have dealt with funeral arrangements, when everyone else was opening presents and celebrating.

 
Since my grandfather’s death anniversary always fell on Christmas Eve, it was a time that was linked to dark memories. Because of this, Gran had vowed that we’d make that day the end of the year. It was a time when we could leave all our troubles behind and start fresh.
 

I guess it was a moment to see the good after the bad. Gran had always said that when bad things came to pass it felt like you were locked in a house with your pain and suffering. When you looked out the window everybody else was going on with their lives. But soon she’d said, when your grief lessened, you would be back outside and in the world, living again. Unfortunately then, someone else would be in that house looking out. She’d called it the circle of life, a time for grief, a time for joy and a lot of time in
 
between. In her opinion there was an opposite to everything, yin and yang.