The Bright Side

Chapter 13 - Part 3

SKY

Each day is worse than the day before. And more cliché than the previous day, too. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't even think straight. Everything revolves around the pain that pulses from the spot where Tristan has ripped off the rubber band between us. Every time I look down at my chest, I'm surprised to see that my shirt isn't soaked with blood, it sure feels like life is draining out of me. The surge towards him hasn't lessened though; it's pulling at me, tearing me apart. It's like ghost pain.

Jeanie bustles around at the counter, a soft clicking sound precedes the music that suddenly fills the room. Oh, no. It's that German punk band Tristan loves so much. He lent the CD to me a few weeks ago and I took it to work with me to get through the hours I wouldn't see him. The familiar voice starts singing lyrics I don't understand but know, because Tristan walked me through each and every song one afternoon. Back when things were good.

"You going to stick that needle in anytime soon, man?"

A voice brings me back to the present and I realize that I've been sitting here staring at the guy's nipple I was about to pierce with my hand flat on his belly.

"If you want to hook up later, ok, but right now I'd like to get it over with." He smiles at me.

My eyes dart up to his face. He's not unattractive and at the same time he looks so wrong. Neatly trimmed buzz-cut instead of crazy curly hair, skin the colour of fresh coffee instead of milk, diamond squares in his lobes instead of plugs.

"I'm sorry. I was getting to that."

I pick up the clamp and attach it to his nipple, holding the needle in the other.

"Ready?"

Before he can even answer I insert the cannula through the marked dots, attach the barbell he has chosen to its end and pull it back through. Took less than five seconds. He didn't even have the time to gasp. I screw the second ball to the piercing and rub some tea tree oil on it with a cotton swab.

"Alright. That's it. You remember what I told you about aftercare?"

The bin beside the stool is already spilling over, today has been one busy day. Not that I remember much of it.

"Maybe you could repeat it to me over dinner?" The guy smirks at me before he attempts to pull his tee over his head.

"Uh, wait. I'll attach a plaster. Just in case it bleeds a bit more."

I grab one from the side table and stick it onto his skin.

"So, what do you say?" he asks as he redresses.

"About what?"

"Dinner?"

Oh, boy. I'm being asked out. What even makes him think I'm gay? Yeah, alright, the staring at his nipple and hand on his belly might have tipped him off. The painted nails, too, maybe, although I still think that they go great with my style. It doesn't look that queer. Just ...different. I'm flattered, though. Three months back I would've definitely said yes. I mean, look at him. His ebony skin against my ivory would look like a piece of art. But although my status of relationship hasn't changed since then, I know he won't do. No one will anymore. I only want Tristan.

"Nice of you to ask. But no. I'm already taken." I know it's not true, but 'Sorry, I've already given my heart away and although he doesn't want it, I still don't have it back yet' sounds desperate and heartbroken – which I am – but I don't think he needs to know. And a simple 'no, thanks' without giving any explanation somehow seems rude to me.

"Bugger." He winks at me and one teeny tiny part of me wishes I could just go with that guy and forget about everything else. I shoot him a smile and walk him over to the counter.

"Remember, easy with the soap, no bubble baths and go get yourself some saline solution from the pharmacy. No creams or salves. Should be alright then. If it's not, come by. Jeanie will fix it." I won't be around to do that myself. It's my last day.

"Alright." His smile is directed towards his wallet as he pulls the notes out. "Thanks, Sky."

"My pleasure," I say, but my mind is already somewhere else again. Tristan's CD is still playing and it's like he himself is here, making me ache for him.

I should really get Tristan's stuff back to his house; his CDs, his sweater he gave me the night I met the father – it's still flying around somewhere in my room, the screws of his old board I had replaced but never discharged.

I clean up my workspace, I pack my tattoo machines and needles and when I can't delay it any longer, I head towards the counter.

"So, I guess this is it," I say as Jeanie walks past me with two rubbish bags in her hands.

"No", she states as she sets them down by the door.

"No?"

"No", she repeats. "Say what you want, but you're not buggering off to Oxford again. I need you here."

"Jeanie...," I sigh. "It's not an option."

"What does it take to make you stay?"

Good question. A wonder probably.

"I'll be back next summer if you want me to," I make it sound like an offer but I'm actually begging her to assure me that I have a place to come back to.

"I want you here all the time. Not just during summer. Business runs great when you're here. The customers love your work. I love your work."

"Maybe once I'm through with college."

"Urgh," she groans and then sighs. "Alright. But I want you to know that just in case you change your mind you can start here anytime. Finish your apprenticeship and then professionally."

"Thanks."

I hold my arms out to her and she nestles into a rather awkward hug.

"My boyfriend will be pleased though that you'll be gone now," she smirks.

"Excuse me?" I pull up one eyebrow.

"Nothing like a pretty college boy to fuel his romantic feelings for me," she winks.

"So glad to be of help," I huff at the thought of Jeanie's two hundred- and fifty-pounds security guy boyfriend deciding that I'm a threat. I may have to stereotype a bit next time I see him. Which hopefully won't be that soon.

"Alright," I pull away from the hug, my eyes fixed on the front door. "So, take care."

"You, too," she says after I've retrieved my backpack. And for the last time for God knows how long the bells above the front door chime me goodbye.

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