His eyes moved down to my right arm, looking straight at the peacock feather on it. “Is that why you’ve got that tattoo?”
Looking down at his bare forearms, I realized that he didn’t have any tattoos. That was mildly disappointing… ok, no, it was a lot disappointing. I’d only agreed to one date with him fine, but in a woman’s mind we play the game of who our perfect man would be a lot. Mine ended up always having tattoos up his arms for some reason, like he wasn’t afraid to express himself in that way. That’s what most tattoos were to me, people expressing themselves by picking a picture or design that they wanted to wear on their skin. Sure there were the ones that people decided to just get done and you wondered what they were thinking, but it was like choosing clothes – you got them to suit you.
Seeing his bare arms, we never would have been compatible, even without the jail cell extortion.
Focusing back on my tattoo, I nodded. “Yeah, it’s the one she painted.”
At that moment, the curtain swept back again, and in walked a nurse with a black lump in her hand.
“Let’s get you set up shall we, Tabitha,” she beamed. The use of my first name was a relief, I hated being called Ms. Newton like the doctor insisted on doing. I heard it so often through the school year that I began to feel like a school employee instead of a human being.
As she strapped me up, chattering away to the Sheriff about everything she could think of, I had a second to watch the emotions and responses playing across his face. Mom had always said that to know a person, you had to learn their genuine reactions to things. Some they could hide, some they couldn’t. In his case, he didn’t show much, but his eyes and the slight flaring of his nostrils gave it away. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say at this moment he was irritated with the woman. I wasn’t sure why, but with every new topic she flicked onto, the skin around his eyes would tighten that bit more. Interesting.
“There we go, Tabitha,” she said, patting the Velcro she’d just stuck down and picking up a small piece of paper. “And this is your checkup appointment. If you’ve got any issues between now and then, just call the number on the top of the letter and we’ll fit you in.”
The sheriff took it from me again, along with the instruction sheet on the bed, and put them both in my purse before thanking her and nodding toward the exit to freedom. Just as I was rounding the end of the bed, the little boy who’d irritated me since I’d gotten there said something that melted my heart.
“Sorry about your mom, fart lady.” He sounded so sad that I didn’t think twice as I walked around the curtain and into the cubicle he was waiting in.
There he was, sitting on the end of the bed with his legs dangling over the edge, his feet nowhere near touching the floor. He was focused on watching them swing slowly, so he didn’t see me until I got close to him.
“Hey, bud,” I murmured, taking in his freckled face and sad brown eyes as he lifted his head. Jesus, it was like looking at a lost puppy. “Thank you for making it better.”
Looking confused, he tried to figure out what I was thanking him for. When he couldn’t, he tilted his head back even more and asked, “What did I make better?”
The answer to this was simple. “Everything. My wrist, my boredom, and my heart hurting over my mom. Thank you for all of it.”
When I mentioned the last bit, he looked at my arms and focused on the tattoo of the feather. “It’s a really pretty drawing she did. I wish my mom would draw for me so I could get it tattooed on my arm.”
Snorting, I swept my finger over the tattoo, something I did often like I was just making sure it was still there. “You’re a bit young, bud, but maybe one day. Or maybe you’ll draw something yourself and get it tattooed on? That’s what I did with this one,” I pointed at the rose.
“Cool,” he muttered, his legs starting to swing more energetically now. “Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. Mom can’t draw for sh…” he broke off when the sheriff cleared his throat. “She can’t draw. Even her hearts look like butts. I’m gonna learn to draw and one day I’ll be like you.”
“There’s your plan and motivation. Don’t lose it, ok?”
I had no doubt I’d be seeing him around soon. After he nodded and raised his hand, I looked over and saw that his sister was ignoring us and staring at her phone, and shook my head.