Jamie answers, "Franco texted us. We had to come see this with our own eyes to believe it."
When I peek one eye open Jamie and Robbie are both standing in the doorway leaning their heads in since there's not room for another body in this cramped space. "Believe, motherfucker," I mutter.
I'm trying to focus on breathing steadily, but my need for a cigarette is nagging me to the point that it's a distraction I can't ignore. I need that calm. My body needs that calm. My mind needs that calm. That and the fact that the repetitive needle jabbing is no longer irritation and has transformed into pain now. "I need a fucking cigarette," I say, my voice strained. I'm not getting up out of this chair until we're done, but verbally acknowledging the craving seems to quiet it. Makes it bearable.
Julian laughs. "You're doing great, big man. Only a couple more minutes, then I'll go outside and have one with you."
"Deal," I say through gritted teeth.
When the hum of the gun quiets, I know he's done. I open my eyes and my throat seizes when I see her words on my arm.
Her words.
Do epic.
Damn, I loved that girl and everything she stood for.
"That's pretty damn epic, asswipe." It's Franco. And it's sincere.
They're all leaned in to take a closer look.
My skin is angry, raised, and red, but the tattoo is eight inches by two inches of beauty. "You're a goddamn Picasso, Julian. Thanks."
Julian grins. He and Franco have the same huge grin. He looks proud of himself. "Glad you like it, big man."
When I stand up, Jamie claims my vacated spot. "I'm next. Same tattoo." He looks resolved. He has a few tattoos on his back, but his arms are bare.
"Me too." Franco and Robbie chime in together.
I scan the small crowd, my confidants. "Really?"
They're all nodding. Solemnly. Our band. A band of brothers.
Jamie speaks up. "Remember, it was on Kate's list. Do epic. She was talking to Rook. We should all get it. And what better day than her birthday?"
I narrow my eyes at him. "You remembered today was her birthday?"
He nods. "Of course." Jamie is the most innocent of all of us. He's just ... good. Of course he remembered.
They're all nodding again. They all remembered. I look at Julian. "You have plans? Can you make this happen? I'll pay for all of them. Double, since it's your day off."
"Let's go have a cigarette and then we'll do this."
Julian makes it happen. We all walk out with matching tattoos. Though Franco's is smaller, on his wrist where his sleeve ends, because blank real estate was in short supply.
Outside on the sidewalk, I stop in my tracks. The sun is setting. It's like fire in the sky.
Bright.
Brilliant.
Orange.
The four guys stand with me in awed silence. They know how much Bright Side loved to watch the sunset.
My smile grows as the sun makes its final descent and plunges us into darkness. Bright Side was definitely in charge tonight.
"That's my girl."
Tuesday, October 31
(Scout)
Audrey and I are in her car, driving home from her office. She's been quiet the past few days. I'm not one to pry, but it's unlike her. There's a sadness in her eyes that's undeniable.
I don't like being around sadness, because it brings up all the feelings inside me that I try to push down. I'm great at suppressing emotion. I can force bad feelings down into my shoes and walk all over them until they're dust under my feet. It's the good feelings that seem elusive sometimes. I live in a world of middle ground. Stoic and unfeeling most of the time. It's easier that way.
When we get home from work, Gustov is waiting outside for Audrey. He's smoking, but as soon as she gets out of the car he stubs out his cigarette and pulls her into a hug. They don't say anything. They just hold on tight. That hug is pure comfort. It's love. I've never seen a parent and child with the kind of relationship they have. There's a level of mutual respect and admiration, loyalty and love that was uncomfortable to be around at first. It seemed contrived. Parents and their children don't have deeply rooted friendship. But these two do. The way they get each other, support each other, is beautiful. The closest relationships I have are with Aunt Jane and Paxton. I know Jane loves me in her own way and I love her, but it's not like this. And Paxton? We love each other like siblings, but a seventeen-year-old boy shouldn't be expected to carry me emotionally. I'd never begin to burden him with that. So, I go it alone most of the time.
Walking inside, I leave Audrey and Gustov alone to talk.
When I get to my room, I feel trapped. Like I'm lost. And every emotion I've been stomping on the past nine months starts rising. And rising. Until I'm crying and I have no idea why. I don't want to cry. And suddenly, Michael's face flashes in my mind. I don't want Michael to have this hold on me. I just want to be over him. But I can't. I gave him everything I was. Everything I am now is less than what it was before. There's a void. I'm incomplete. My mind is running a million miles a minute and my anxiety is skyrocketing. Maybe a shower will help calm me down. I always shower in the morning after my run, but I feel like I need to soak in misery for a while. I let the hot water pound against my skin. I picture it battering out the bad. Battering out the loss. Battering out the resentfulness and the bitterness. I stand there for a long time and I cry. I haven't cried in months. Being with Michael the other day brought back to the surface all of the ugliness. And all of the love. Damn Michael. I loved him and love was important back then. To me at least. In the beginning, sex was more than just an act. It was a commitment. It was a declaration of that love. But then the act turned into pure, unadulterated need and self-loathing. I used to tell myself I wasn't the bad guy. But now, reality's slipping in and I'm beginning to hate myself. To regret things I've done. The lines of sex and love and right and wrong have been blurred. I hate it.
"Shut the hell up." That was me talking to me. Out loud. I need to get out of this shower and get back to life.
After throwing on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, I decide the best thing I can do to keep busy is to go make dinner so that Audrey doesn't have to.