Jan and Mick [on hold]

Chapter 5

In all of Mick's life, never had he ever even imagined that he would be doing something like this.

And he'd thought the same of his wife until this very moment. He could still feel shock rumbling through his chest from her unexpected words. Something was shifting, transforming itself across space and time until it was unrecognizable even to him. He wasn't ready for it; he never would be.

His hands were slack on the steering wheel like his precarious grip on reality. Jan sat beside him, holding an aura of breathless excitement. Mick hadn't seen this light in her eyes, since... well, since they'd first met in high school. It was strange and unsettling, this new brand of happiness, and it left him wondering if she'd ever truly been satisfied before this moment.

"Isn't this exciting, Mick?" She smiled thinly at him, and he blinked, vastly uncomfortable with this unexpected change in countenance.

"That's one word for it," he muttered under his breath while shooting Jan a tentative smile.

"I'm thinking of getting a sleeve," she chirped nonchalantly.

Mick blanched, imagining her creamy skin marred by swirls of ink. He began to cough violently, and his eyes watered until he could hardly see. Jan firmly patted him on the back, an amused little smile on her face. Mick attempted to speak but all that came out was a raspy gurgle. She laughed, really laughed, and although it was a short, little laugh, it occurred to him that he hadn't heard that distinctive giggle in well over a decade. The thought sent chills racing down his spine.

"I'm kidding," she said lightly. Mick relaxed slightly. "I'll work my way up to that."

Before he could protest, they'd arrived, and Jan was unbuckling her seat belt with trembling fingers. She slipped out of the car, gone before he had even moved.

Mick sighed heavily and shut his eyes. This was only one minuscule event in a lifespan stuffed with them. So why did it feel so monumental?

"Mick, come on," Jan called, a warm, bubbly feeling behind her words. Reluctantly, he climbed out and walked arm in arm with Jan into the parlor.

It wasn't at all like Mick had expected it to be. It was worse.

Loud rock music rolled off the walls in waves, showering him with barely concealed angst and frightening passion. An odd smell floated around the room, pervading his nostrils and filling his teeming mind. The floor was grimy underneath his brown loafers, and worst of all, Jan seemed to be fascinated by it. He could feel her soaking up the energy in the room like a vibrant sponge that had sat dormant on the ocean floor up until now.

A slender, tattooed young woman that looked like the female version of William eyed them suspiciously from beyond the counter, skinny arms tightly folded.

"You two lookin' for your kid or something?" she called in a distinctive Boston dialect that was foreign to Mick's ears.

"Actually, we're here to get tattoos," Jan corrected quietly. Now, in the presence of this place that was a parallel universe to her own, her small burst of joy had been dimmed by something closer to anxiety.

The girl snorted incredulously and shook her head. "All right, I guess. I'm Jamie. Just wait here." Then she slipped into the backroom that was concealed by a velvety curtain.

"Any suggestions, Mick?"

"Um, well, maybe you should get a little circle," he suggested, the plainest design he could think of.

"Or better yet, no tattoo at all!" he said in mock excitement.

To his dismay, Jan began to laugh, a genuine sound that was foreign to his ears. Who was this woman, and what had she done with his mild, complacent wife?

"I think I want this flower." He watched as she extracted a crumpled slip of paper from her pocket. On it was a delicate, soft pink flower. She had come prepared, a terrifying thought. It was slightly pretty, he admitted grudgingly. But it was large. Much too large.

"It's for my mother since she was a florist. Her favorite flower was the hibiscus."

"Where would you even get it?"

"My arm," she answered without a moment's hesitation.

"But then everyone will see it," he spluttered, losing the composure he'd barely managed to cling to since this whole ordeal began.

"That's the point," she said fondly.

Before he could protest, Jamie swept back in, grinning wickedly. "You kids ready?"

Wordlessly, as Jamie held up the curtain, Jan tugged him into the room where an irrevocable event would take place, where it felt as if everything, everything, would change. Mick felt a suffocating panic rising in his chest, panic that Jan felt everyday sitting in their tidy home with her bones out on display. He was unknowingly getting a taste of what his wife constantly suffered through, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Who's going first?" A surprisingly short man with long dreads and a gleaming smile stood before them. His heavily tattooed torso jumped out at Mick instantly.

These were the type of people Mick crossed the street to avoid. These were the type of people Mick warned his children against associating with. These were people that lived opposite Mick's sheltered, comfortable life. This was all madness. Suddenly, the gravity of the situation hit him full force, leaving him gasping for breath he wouldn't receive. He needed to get out of here.

Jan had jumped into the seat while Mick floundered in his dark reveries. She flashed him a quick thumbs up and a thin smile as her arms were prepped for the process. The man with the dreads began assembling his equipment and the panic was still rising and rising and rising...

"I-I need to make a call," Mick blurted out. The look Jan gave him was puzzled, but he ignored it, pushing his way out of the stifling room and into the waiting area where Jamie sat behind the counter fast asleep.

Quick as a flash, he whipped out his not-exactly-up-to-date cell phone and speed dialed the first person that came to mind. 

"Hey, Dad." His daughter's cheerful voice greeted him after five tense rings.

"Lauren, your mother's gone absolutely bonkers."

She laughed airily, and he heard the muffled sound of another person speaking behind her. She laughed again. "What in the world are you talking about?"

"She wants a tattoo. A tattoo."

"Go mom," she cheered. There was a shuffle and a bump, followed by a raucous hoot.

"Where are you?" he asked tentatively.

"I'm just hanging out with my friend Jamie. And about mom, she's probably just having some kind of midlife crisis. Just let her be."

"But, but," he spluttered. "A tattoo?"

She let out a giggle at something near her, and somehow, it seemed a gaping abyss had opened up between them. "Dad, I gotta go."

When she hung up, Mick inhaled and exhaled several times before strolling back in as casually as possible. 

-

I hate this. Most of it was written in under two hours in a french fries/regina spektor induced haze so forgive me for the quality. I'll probably go back and fix the pacing later. But be brutally honest and tell me what you thought.