Rattled, стр. 12
A camera man leans in further. “Can you put your arms up so we can get a good shot?”
As the Reeds do need to judge the work, I do as I’m asked.
Another guy takes still shots. “That’s good work, Dosek,” he says.
“When do I get to see it?”
“Right now,” Alex says and helps me from the table. Across the room is a mirror and I start for it. My legs are shaking and I’m not sure if it’s because of nerves or because I was lying on the table so long. My muscles hurt, but I’m pretty sure it’s from being tense the entire time.
Alex follows me over but before I can get close enough, he covers my eyes with this hands. “Move with me.”
I bite my lip and do so, until he stops.
“Ready?”
“…Yes.”
My heartbeat increases as his hands slowly move from my eyes. He’s watching my face in the mirror, not looking at the tattoo. Of course, he’s already seen it.
My eyes drift lower, to the small feet just below my right boob, to the gentle curve of music notes from Brahms’s Lullaby, to Brandy’s delicate hand tattooed over my heart.
My eyes fill with tears and I try to blink them away, but they spill down my cheeks instead. There’s more to see, but I can’t see anything because I’m crying so hard.
Alex rushes back and grabs the box of tissues and brings them over.
“Thanks.” I sniff and wipe my eyes. All of the headnotes on the music are hearts, just like I drew them, and colored blue, green, and pink. Within the music notes is Brandy’s name, her date of birth, and then Brandon’s name circling the final heart, and I start sobbing all over again.
I want to tell Alex how perfect this is, but I can’t even talk. My throat is tight. I’m trying to hold back the sobs, and tears are spilling down my cheeks and onto my breasts. I keep wiping my eyes because I can’t see the tattoo through the tears.
They are both here, with me always.
I clear my throat and try to gain control of myself. I need to stop crying. I want to see the tat.
He hands me more tissues and I wipe my face. That’s when I realize that the curve of the music isn’t random, but an outline of how Brandy had been laid across my chest for those few precious moments I was allowed to hold her.
Does she hate it? Does she love it?
Kelsey is saying nothing, just crying. Uncontrollable crying. I hope it’s because she likes it, but she’s a girl, and you never know.
If she hates it, I’m screwed. I know I took a chance, but she needed more than feet. Yeah, they were important, but not as important as that hand. That’s what she touched and talked about. Does she even remember that she gestured as to how the baby had been laid on her?
I pray I didn’t screw this up. It’s a lot more than she asked for, and in my gut, I know it’s what she needs.
Without warning Kelsey turns and throws her arms around me, hugging me close.
“Thank you so much.” She barely gets the words out before she is sobbing again.
Her tears are soaking into my shirt and getting on my chest, but I don’t care. I wrap my arms around her and let her sob against me.
She likes it, and that’s all that matters. I rub my hands down her soft, naked back, not sure if I’m trying to calm or comfort. All I know is that she’s half-naked pressed against me and crying her heart out and I’m perfectly content to hold her until she has her emotions under control.
Tears fill my eyes but I blink them away. I’m not the mushy type, yet she’s moved me several times since she stepped into the room. I bury my face in her hair so the camera doesn’t see that I’m turning into a mess too. I take deep breaths trying to regain control, and the lavender scent of her shampoo fills my head, calming me.
I’ve done a lot of tats since I started, but this is the one I’m most proud of. Not that it was huge, colorful, or amazing—because in comparison to some of my other work, it’s rather simple. But it’s what was right for Kelsey, and I don’t think I’ll ever be as proud of anything else I may do as I am at this very moment.
She pulls back and looks up at me with a watery smile. “It’s perfect. So perfect. Thank you so much.”
More tears spill down her cheeks and I hand her another tissue. “Thank you,” I say. “For allowing me the honor of doing your tattoo, for sharing yourself with me, and for listening to me.”
She smiles up and our eyes meet. The past and old resentment fade away, and something shifts inside. I’m free. The hatred I felt for my mother is gone, because she no longer matters. The resentment I once felt for Kelsey has vanished, because she’s a true mom. Her kid came first, and still does, and I want to get to know the girl I should have gotten to know six years ago.
“Here, let’s get this bandaged. I’ll give you instructions on how to care for it over the next few weeks.”
Kelsey follows me back to the table and I cover the tat so it can heal.
“So, when will you know if you make the show?” she asks.
“Don’t know.” I shrug. “The Reeds need to watch the footage and look at the photos before they make a decision.”
She nods as she pulls her shirt over her head. “What are you doing after this?”
“Nothing. Just wait and see if they call.”
Kelsey hops off the table. “Why don’t we get a cup of coffee?”
She’s biting her bottom lip again. Something she does when she’s nervous.
“Sure. I just need to clean up