It was exciting and a little bit overwhelming at the same time. This kind of thing was a huge undertaking, and I could only imagine how much pressure and responsibility Gus felt when he was doing it. Nobody planned a tattoo of this magnitude and committed that much time and pain to having it embedded in his skin without it carrying a tremendous amount of meaning.
That obviously wasn’t always the case when it came to tattoos. I would be the first to admit not all the body art that existed in the world was a good thing. Gus was usually good at filtering out the people who had just decided to get a tattoo on a whim or hadn’t thought about a particular design from all perspectives and didn’t see potentially troublesome aspects of it. He didn’t work on people who were drunk, high, or too emotionally strung out to really make a rational decision about something permanent like this.
That didn’t mean every tattoo artist had the same level of ethics he did. Or that everyone who came in seeming like they were of totally sound mind and had thought it through was really making a good decision and wouldn’t decide a week or two down the line that they’d made a major mistake.
Reactions like that, though, were usually the pedestrian pieces or the ones that were best as a fleeting idea. The common designs that ended up looking strikingly similar to the rub-on options available in gumball machines or the brief thoughts that seem great on the surface but not so much upon further consideration.
I couldn’t even begin to estimate how many times I saw groups of friends come in with what they thought was a brilliant idea. They all wanted matching tattoos or tattoos that coordinated with each other, or even ones that went together like the bachelorette party that wanted the lyrics to a song inked across their backs so they could be read when they stood side by side. It was always celebratory and emotional.
And far more often than I’d like to think about, those people ended up right back to see what could be done to get those pieces covered up when the friendship shattered or the marriage they were commemorating ended or they realized the small segment of words they had on them didn’t make sense or gave very much the wrong message.
Tattoos like the one my uncle just finished were never a fluke. They took far too long and were far too expensive. Something like that was a commitment.
And that made the thought of being the one to do one intimidating. It would be a long time before I was even close to the caliber of artist who would take on that kind of piece, but it was still a lot to think about someone entrusting something like it to me.
I went out to the front desk to give the man his final receipt and aftercare instructions. As he was leaving, I saw Deacon coming through the parking lot toward the door. He was carrying a white bag and a cardboard carrier of coffee.
“Hey,” he said when he came into the building.
He leaned over to kiss me. I smiled.
“Hey,” I said.
“I brought doughnuts.”
I laughed as he set the bag and carrier down on the waiting area table.
“It’s almost seven at night,” I said.
“Doughnuts and coffee have been pigeonholed into being only good for breakfast, and they aren’t going to take it anymore,” he said.
“Well, good for them,” I said, taking one of the cups out of the carrier.
Gus came out from the back, snatched a doughnut and coffee, and disappeared into the back again. He wasn’t being rude. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was trying to give us some time alone together. He was very aware of his position and how much he could seem like he was hovering, being overly protective of me in his role as the only thing close to family I had. Walking away like that was his way of trying to give us that space and show that he, perhaps begrudgingly, approved of us.
As soon as he was gone, Deacon leaned over for another kiss. I grinned and reached for one of the doughnuts as we settled onto the couch to spend a few minutes together. Having him visit me at work was becoming my favorite thing. This was the second time he’d been by since our kiss got the entire town gossiping.
I had to admit it was amusing to see his face after I kissed him Tuesday morning. But he deserved it after how much he’d been flirting. And now I figured the whole town knew, which meant we got to avoid the awkward dance of trying to go public with our relationship. We just ripped off the bandage, so to speak, and now everybody knew what was going on.