Photo by Cyndy
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...that life would never, ever be the same. She had forbidden him. Plainly, and clearly, and without the gentle edge to her voice that he longed to hear. She had said it clearly:
"IF you get that tattoo of that floozy on your arm, so help me. You are no longer welcome in this house, and you should pack your stuff and get out. For good. Think hard about that!"
Johnny had thought hard about that. All the way to the tattoo parlor.
~ CDB
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Johnny stepped from the tattoo shop and knew it was a mistake.
He could feel the soreness on his right cheek as he sat back on his Harley.
"What in the world posessed me to get a tattoo in the first place? And on my butt!" he said out loud.
Then he remembered....
There had been a bar...a whole lot of drink. And a bet.
"Great!!" He said aloud again, "I'll be forever branded as Lolitta's! I don't even LIKE her anymore!"
Johnny stepped from the tattoo shop and knew something was wrong. He never left his bike at that unsafe angle. LolaBaby was too easily scratched to be casually leaned against a pole. He heard the shuffle of boots on concrete and braced himself for the blow. A wooden plank whizzed by, inches from his temple and Johnny darted across the lot seeking refuge in LolaBaby's shadow.
The odds were stacked against him, four on one. And they were armed.
Johnny grabbed an ampty bottle from the curb and smashed it against the face of the nearest thug. He hated beating up kids, but this one had a knife. His knife now. One down.
Two of the others, redheads, probably brothers, produced blades of their own. The third flipped his plank to reveal nails on the other end. Fantastic.
LolaBaby screeched her disappointment as Johnny gunned the engine and ran straight for Plank Thug. The kid never had a chance and ran headfirst into the brick wall. Out cold. Johnny whispered apologies as the flailing plank scratched his bike's rear tire frame. Two down.
Knives were no match for a bike, but flesh and leather were no match for knives. Johnny grabbed the fallen nail plank raising it over his head in silent threat. The ginger thugs edged in cautiously.
Johnny rode in tight circles, reigning the boys in until they were standing back to back knives the the ready. He faked a punch to the younger and caught the older brother in the knee with the plank. In his distraction he sliced his brother's cheek.
Two down.
Johnny rode off laughing into teh night. Nothing like a good fight to help forgot the pain of a fresh tattoo.
Johnny stepped from the tattoo shop and knew that he had to hop on his motorcycle and get away fast. Even before the engine roared, he felt them coming.
The tears that had welled up inside the last six months finally poured out of him. The wind in his face wiped the tears away, but they kept coming.
It had been six months since his mom's cancer diagnosis. Six months of tests and treatments. Six months of needles. It was about time he faced some needles, too.
He tearily left the tattoo parlor with his first tattoo. Freshly tattooed on his forearm was a pink ribbon with the word MOM.
...that life would never, ever be the same. She had forbidden him. Plainly, and clearly, and without the gentle edge to her voice that he longed to hear. She had said it clearly:
"IF you get that tattoo of that floozy on your arm, so help me. You are no longer welcome in this house, and you should pack your stuff and get out. For good. Think hard about that!"
Johnny had thought hard about that. All the way to the tattoo parlor.
The TV blared with the match. He didn't notice, gazing blankly at something behind the screen. For years he lived under the promised place, under the roof that reassured all is forever.
The paint on the wall cracked. Outside, rusting metal.
Drained, he waited. Waited for her to pass. Unforgotten. Bruised. Emotions. Come back, please, come back. Stripped and bare. Impossible. She was everything to him. His everything was her's. Don't go, please, don't go.
No. God. Loved. Her. More.
He etched in his pain and grief into others.
Johnny stepped from the tattoo shop and knew that his little girl will now shine close to his heart. This tattoo of her sweet smile will always keep him motivated to live on. Three years ago, he had to sit with his wife as they laid a pink rose on top of her last resting place. As the tattoo artist closed the door at midnight, he stopped at his bike and put his hand to his heart. With eyes filled with tears, he thought about the past three years filled with guilt and anger. Peace came over him as he thought,"I am still her Daddy. My baby will never leave me."
Johnny stepped from the tattoo shop and knew that he had found her. She was not there at the moment, but her presence radiated from every corner.
"Can I help you?" asked the sulry looking teenager at the cash register.
"I'm looking for..." Johnny started, but drifted off as remembered that day over a year ago when he had first seen her. She was crouching at the edge of the bushes in the park, mumbling to herself. With the tatoo of a snake running down her arm she had the look of an unsavoury character as most people walking past shook their heads at the "stoned" character speaking to the bushes. Johnny stopped and watched her for some reason he never understood and quickly saw that her manner did not fit with someone who was out of their mind on drugs. He crept closer, not wanting to disturb her, and saw over her shoulder, that she was watching a beautiful little chameleon, and her mumbling was actually her talking to it.
"You are so beautiful, I don't know how everyone else can just miss your beauty and walk right past. I could sit here and watch you for ever... OH!!"
Johnny had been so absorbed in watching that he did not realise how close he had moved. She must have seen him out of the corner of her eye, because she jumped and turned around. The expression on her face instantly hardened and the soft, beautiful glow he had seen previously vanished.
"No, don't go. I was just fascinated by that chameleon. I didn't mean to scare you." Johnny was captivated by the girl, but he quickly realised she was very nervous for some reason and he didn't want to scare her away. "My name is Johnny, what's yours?"
"I, um, I'm, oh, I'm late," she cried as if suddenly realising something. "I should never have taken so long. I must get back quickly." She started walking away from him, picking up speed as she did and he was scared he would lose her forever so he tried to follow her.
"But, how can I find you again?" he shouted as she began runnning. She turned back to him, although she continued running. She loked at him for a moment and then laughed, the most beautiful sound in all creation to Johnny. "I run a tattoo parlour in town, if you can find it..." and then she turned and was gone!
Now standing in the shop, which he knew was hers because of some deep inner sense he could not define, as well as the huge painting of the chameleon on the wall.
"I'm looking for the the person who painted that," he said to the teenager, pointing to the chameleon. Behind him, he heard the door open and then the sound he had dreamt of for so long, a beautiful laugh.
"Johnny, you found me," she said from behind him. He turned and stared at her for a moment, then reached out and hugged her, swinging her around as she laughed and laughed.
"Now, I can finally ask you the one question I have been dying to know since that day in the park..." He looked deep into her eyes, and she smiled and replied, "Cassie, my name is Cassie."
"Beautiful, just like you. But that wasn't my question." He reached into his pocket as he knelt down before her. Holding out a box with a ring designed as a chameleon circling her finger, he breathed "Will you marry me"?..."
Johnny stepped from the tattoo shop
and knew what she would think.
The most important woman in his life
on his arm in permanent ink.
He sighed and sat on his bike,
the pain fresh in his mind.
The rose which he gave her that morning
now on his body to remind.
The night wind blew his hair
as he put his helmet on.
He'd have to ride towards a different life
but he'd never forget his MOM.
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