Tattoos: A Novel (4 page)

His eyes travelled to room 312 and an expression of grief crossed his face. I knew that he was having as hard a time as I was seeing it empty. The silence lengthened between us, but neither of us mentioned what we were thinking, that one more little flame had been extinguished forever.

He puffed his cheeks and furrowed his brow.
 

“Anyway, sooner is better than later, okay?” he said. He laid a warm hand on my shoulder for just a second, then gave me a brittle smile that didn’t come even close to reaching his eyes. He cleared his throat and was moving away from me, down the hall and out of the ward. His legs looked like tooth picks compared to his inflated top.

I pushed the utility cart toward room 312, hoping that whoever stayed in the room next would have a better outcome than Neil had had.

3. Marilee

“Come on now Marilyn I want to get you all checked in so I can get to my hair appointment,” Mom said from a few feet in front of me.

 
I hadn’t even realized that I’d stopped walking. I stood stationary in front of the sliding doors, as if my body knew that nothing good was going to happen inside the hospital. The sun was just beginning to break through the grey clouds that hung heavy in the sky above the hospital. In the fingers of sunlight everything looked greener and fresher. So unlike what it was supposed to be like when you were being admitted to the hospital for cancer treatment.

I glanced at Mom, then Harold. Not surprisingly they wore identical expressions of mild annoyance.

“FYI, you could have cancelled your damn hair appointment since duh, I’m being admitted to the hospital for cancer treatment,” I snapped, unable to contain my sudden rage. Not even my cancer was enough of a reason for Mom to cancel a hair appointment.

“You know what Dr. John said Marilyn. He told us to try and keep as much of our regular routines intact as possible, because it will be easier for us to cope with everything…” Mom said.

 
Even before she finished talking, the floodgates of her tears opened. Black lines tracked down her cheeks. I absently wondered why, if she planned to cry as much as she always did, she didn’t use waterproof mascara. Harold had his arm around her waist, looking ever like the doting husband. He shot me an unabashed glare and it only served to piss me off more. Rather than fight a battle I knew I would end up losing, I strode past them and into the hospital.
 

I could see that there had been an attempt to make the place cheery, with colorfully painted murals of zoo animals, massive butterflies and cloud mobiles dangling from the ceiling. Even the overstuffed neon-toned furniture was designed to lighten the mood. I had to admit it was the first time I’d seen electric blue and hot pink leather sofas. Unfortunately just the smell of the place, antiseptic, rubbing alcohol, cleaners and something I couldn’t identify, made me want to turn around and go back to the comfort of my bedroom at home.
 

 
As we made our way to the main desk, I tried to be grateful that I was going to one of the best hospitals in the country but it was an almost impossible feat. I knew that St. Martins hospital for Children specialized in Hodgkins Lymphoma and it was my best option, but I still hated everything about the place. I was having a hard time being thankful for much at all, add in Mom’s ability to steal all the attention from me with her diva crying jags, and I was almost relieved to be away from the duo.
 

For the first time in several days I was grateful that Harold was my father because as only he could do, he maneuvered through the check in part of the admission with expert precision. I had to do little more than nod my head occasionally. It was a small blessing that I grabbed with both hands. While Harold signed the papers and did all the official stuff, Mom dabbed at her eyes with a pretty pink tissue. With her mascara still tracing down her cheeks, she looked more and more like a raccoon with every passing moment.

We were led to the third floor by an elderly lady with snow white hair and a plump build. She looked out of place in her white blouse and navy pants, amidst the exploding rainbows of color that assaulted my already over-stimulated senses. Mom and Harold chatted to the lady, whose name tag said Edna. Any other time I would have considered Edna sweet and kind, but right then she seemed a distressing chatterbox.
 

I knew it was rude to ignore them but it was all so much to take in. Wrapping an ugly dress in pretty paper didn’t make the dress any less ugly, it only hid the truth for a little while. Even though the people who’d designed the hospital had done their best to make it a welcoming and warm place, it couldn’t hide the fact that it was a place for sick people, like me.
 

We stepped off the elevator. I had only a second to lay eyes on the place that I would call home for quite a while, before we were walking over giant painted footprints in red, blue, green and yellow, leading the way to the oncology ward.
 

“You’re in room 312, Marilyn,” the lady said in a chipper voice.

“Marilee,” I said instinctively.
 

“Here we are,” Edna said seconds later.

 
She pointed a pudgy finger at a room that had two huge glass windows with lemon yellow curtains pulled to the side. A hospital bed with a mint green bedspread, looked stark against a backdrop of shooting golden stars that covered the mauve wall at the head of the bed. A white topped dark wood counter with a sink and a dispenser of pink soap, ran the length of the wall that faced the bed. Right next to the sink, with a mop in his hand was a guy that could only be described as edgy.
 

As if he knew I was watching him he cast his icy blue eyes my way at exactly that same moment. I knew I shouldn’t have been staring at him but it was hard not to. His presence seemed to fill the room. His shoulder length ebony black hair didn’t look like it had been combed, but also seemed exactly as it was supposed to be, if that was even possible. Dressed in pale blue coveralls that zipped up the front, he was a giant and in my opinion one of the few people who made Mom look like an average sized woman.

“Just finishing up here,” the guy said in a voice that was husky and so male that it took my breath away. Tiny silver hoops glittered in his earlobes. I noticed he had another piercing in his nose but wasn’t wearing a nose ring. Oddly, I found myself wondering what kind of nose ring he usually wore. I wanted to shake my head a few times for putting so much thought into something that I mostly hated in guys.

 
I’d never even spoken to anyone that looked like him. If I was being honest I steered clear of people I considered “head bangers”, still there was something intriguing about him. Something that I couldn’t put my finger on, that made me feel calm despite my surroundings. Oddly without even knowing his name I wanted him to stay in the room with me.
 

“That’s just fine Jax,” Edna said, giving him a winning smile.
 

Jax for his part gave her a partial grin that didn’t show any of his teeth, but accentuated a dimple in his left cheek. It only confirmed his label of slippery handsome, maybe even a little bad ass. He reached out a hand for the broom that was leaning against the wall in the corner of the room. I noticed something that I usually hated on most people, but on him seemed right, a sleeve of tattoos.
 

Before I had a chance to get a good look at his tattoos, he’d retrieved the broom. The cuff of his coveralls had fallen back into place, effectively obstructing my view. He moved behind his cart that I had only noticed was there at that very moment. For some reason I’d been too focused on him to see much of anything else. He strode toward me, stopping a few feet away. He stood there just staring at me, an expression of amusement playing in his too-blue eyes. The weight of his gaze had me both feeling excited and nervous, and also made me question why he was looking at me like that.

“Excuse me,” he said, arching a dark eyebrow my way. It was then that I realized why he’d been staring at me so intently.
 

“Shit,” I whispered under my breath. I felt a flush of heat race up my neck and into my cheeks. I stepped to the side and out of his path. I had been too dumb and awestruck to notice I’d been blocking his way.

“Thanks,” he said moving past me. When he did a slight whiff of his cologne, that had a citric and woody quality wafted from him. His scent had me unintentionally leaning in to get a better sniff. Then just like that, he was gone out of the room. It felt as if all the light had gone with him, and I was left alone with people I didn’t want to be with, in a place where I didn’t want to stay. Suddenly and without warning the enormity of what was going to happen to me felt like a cold slap of water across my face.

“Marilyn, Marilyn…” Harold said, breaking into my thoughts. “Please thank Edna for her help,” he said, tilting his head slightly toward her. Edna seemed a little embarrassed by his request.

“It’s a lot to take in…” Edna started to say. Mom shook her head then flipped her hair with a dramatic flare.
 

“We can never forget our manners,” Mom said. Harold nodded his ascent. I wanted to scream at them that they could shove their manners where the sun didn’t shine. Now more than ever I needed a break. I was trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I was going to be starting chemotherapy in a few days. And that soon, according to the oncologist that we’d had a meeting with, I would feel worse before I felt better. Then I’d lose my hair and I might vomit for days after, and...
   

“Thank you Edna,” I said with a weak smile.
 

“You’re more than welcome,” Edna said. She touched my shoulder lightly before she turned and ambled out of the room.

Harold and Mom waved goodbye to Edna. Before the poor woman made it out the door, Mom shot her a pathetic smile and a fresh wave of tears streamed down her face. I was shocked that she had anymore moisture left in her. As far as I could see, Edna was happy to be getting out of there. I wished I could have gone with her.

Mom, with Harold’s arm draped around her waist, made her way to one of the two faux leather chairs that sat in front of a double-paned window that took up almost half the wall. Even from the door I could see that the view from my window was of the well manicured garden at the front entrance of the hospital. It was probably the best room I could get there since Mom would have demanded only the top of the line for me.
 

That was the funny thing about Mom, she never minded dropping some serious cash for practically anything I did or didn’t want. But ask her for some advice about a problem I was having at school, a guy I was dating, or something like heck, cancer, and she went all Barbie doll blank and started to cry. If I was being honest, right then, all I needed was for her to be the mother I’d always wanted her to be, but who I knew she’d never be. I wanted her to wrap me in her arms like she used to do after she’d bathed me when I was just a kid. I needed her to tell me that no matter what happened we’d get through it.

As if in response to my unspoken wishes, Mom got to her feet, glanced down at her watch, tisked and shook her head.
 

“I really have to go Marilyn, you’ll be all right here then?” She formed the words like a question, but I knew it was a statement more than a query. She had places to go, hair to be coiffed. A little thing like me being admitted to the hospital wasn’t going to throw her off her stride.

“I’ll drop you off Luanne, then I have some things to catch up on at work,” Harold said, making me feel all but invisible. It also made me ponder what their life would look like if I never recovered from the blackness that had infiltrated my body. Would Mom miss my funeral so she could keep her nail appointment?
 

My stomach roiled as the bitter words I wanted to spew at the two cardboard cutouts that posed as my parents, were poised at the tip of my tongue. I wanted to strike out at them, hit them, do all the things that I had a right to do because they shouldn’t have been staring at me like they were. Waiting for me to let them off the hook they were never on in the first place.

“I’m fine, go have fun…” I said in a low voice.
 

I threw my purse on the bed and plopped down in the chair that Mom had just vacated. For the first time in days, Mom’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. She was finally allowed to be rid of me, pay someone else to take care of her problems. She air kissed me on both cheeks. Harold followed her lead. He gave me what I knew he had planned to be a quick hug.
 

Before I could stop myself I’d grabbed handfuls of the back of his tan leather jacket and pressed my face against his thin chest. Tears pricked at the back of my eyes. I wanted to stay in his arms forever and hide from the sentence I’d been given. But all too quick the hug was over, and he and Mom were walking away and out the door. Then I was alone, completely alone and I didn’t know how I was going to make it through the day, let alone the weeks that would follow.

4. Jax

By the time my shift was over the midday sun had burned all the rain away. It was a welcome change from the crap I’d had to deal with in the morning. But even so I couldn’t wait to get home and out of my shoes and socks since both were still completely soaked from the morning. I was beginning to worry that I might get foot rot if I didn’t change soon. I locked my bike to a wrought iron fence in front of my building. Instead of taking my chances with the elevator that only worked about half of the time, but mostly got caught between floors making for a sticky exit, I jogged up the six flights of stairs to our apartment.

As if caught in the act of trying to burglarize a few crumbs of food off the floor, three or so cockroaches scurried across the balding puke green carpet that lined the hallway. I made a mental note to spray the apartment again before the critters decided to take up residence in our place too.