Fifteen minutes later, the luggage conveyor belt light came on and bags started to appear. I looked at Marley nervously before I walked by myself to where the passengers were starting to come through.
Come on, come on. Please tell me you got on the plane, I thought nervously as the passengers kept coming and I still hadn’t seen any sign of him.
I had my hands on my hips as the line started to thin out and I felt a horrible sadness starting to take over me. I got up on my tiptoes and strained my neck to see.
Just as I was about to give up, I saw him. I saw the baseball cap that I had bought for him years ago. I saw the oversized t-shirt and the oversized denim shorts; but most of all I saw his smile. His blue eyes filled with hope and melting into a calm love when they met mine. I ran forward and I wrapped my arms around Mitch’s neck and sobbed.
“I seriously didn’t expect that,” Cassidy said once we were all back at Marley’s lounging in her backyard.
“Me either,” Sofia said.
Gabrien had just exited the house and handed Mitch a beer and sat down across from him at the large glass patio table that the men were sitting at, while us girls laid around on lawn chairs about ten feet away.
“Why did you choose Mitchell?” Marley asked curiously.
“Because I loved him most of all. There were times that I was in Spain with Alejandro that I secretly wished it was Mitch. Even in Italy, I would take pictures of the skyline and send them to him because I missed him so much. Mitch may be simple, not have a lot of money, and not be able to give me the world, but to me he is the world and that’s what counts.”
I glanced over at Mitch who was laughing with Gabrien and Dominico and felt happier than I ever had in a very long time.
Memories
(Times and Trials Book 1)
Meagan Moyer
CHAPTER ONE
Why can't I find a normal man that's interesting AND interested in me?? Not to mention handsome... I seem to attract these weirdo goofballs who are more concerned with the digits in their bank accounts or how many kills their last streak on Call of Duty encompassed than how to treat a lady. From one extreme to the other, I can't catch a break. These guys make me seriously consider becoming a lesbian. Just give me time to cut my hair, pierce my lip, buy some slip-on shoes, and raid my brother's closet and you can count on me to smash my face into the biggest set of tits I can find!!!
“Hey, sugar. You should let me take you to dinner one night. You look like you could use a good time and I’m pretty sure that I would be the right one to fill that spot. Whaddaya say, sweetheart?” That douche. He actually thinks that women go for that shit! Maybe some do, but not this one. Hopefully my polite smile hides the disgust simmering just below the surface of my calm exterior. “Thanks for the offer but I’m gonna have to decline. Maybe some other time. Right now isn’t really a good time for me. My sister just had surgery and I’m stuck taking care of her when I’m not working. Sorry,” I offer what I hope passes as a genuinely apologetic expression and look back down at my paperwork on the counter. “Aw, now. Don’t be that way. Gimme a chance, babe. You’ll always wonder what you missed if you don’t let me show you. Just gimme your number and I’ll call you.”
Regardless of how adorable his dimples may be beneath the frames of his glasses or how hot he looks with his tight polo stretched across his impressive expanse of chest, he still strikes me as a bit odd. What the hell. Never know unless you try it. Might as well give the fella a date. There’s no harm in a free meal and a good story.
Eh, I like dick too much for the whole lesbian thing. I think I need to start performing thorough background checks and social checks on any male who even glances in my direction. However, the lip ring doesn't seem like such a bad idea...
It’s that train of thought and that particular episode of reminiscence that lead me into my favorite tattoo parlor that just so happens to be the place of employment of my best friend to have another hole poked into my body. If her schedule allows, I think I'll invest in some new ink while I'm here. I need some serious distraction to draw my mind from the thoughts of the train wreck of a date that followed that first conversation with Chris. What the hell was I thinking??
Back to the present...
Jaime is more than accommodating when I ask if she has time to sling out a small piece for me. "Girl, I've got nothing going on for three more hours. What are you calling small this time?" she asks with one of her doubly pierced, perfectly arched eyebrows raised in question. "Your legs are looking nice but your shoulders are looking kind of bare these days. What'll it be, pretty lady?" she asks as she walks circles around me while examining various areas of my body to find the area for her next canvas.
After a moment of contemplation and my explanation of the idea that’s been floating around in my mind lately, I feel the certain giddiness that comes with the knowledge that I'll soon be getting some much needed meditation that seems to only result from that certain, highly therapeutic gun buzzing across my skin, marking its path with the colors that will remain with me until the day I’m turned to ash. Being from a highly religious family, I've gotten a lot of grief from my older relatives since I came to Christmas dinner sporting my first tattoo shortly after my eighteenth birthday- a black and green two-headed dragon with each of its heads resting behind an ear, twin necks stretching from one earlobe to the other before joining in the middle and disappearing beneath the collar of my shirt. I thought that my grandmother would have a coronary right there at the table. Ten years and thousands of dollars later, she's still alive and I'm gloriously decorated from my neck to my toes and they have finally stopped complaining about my choice of bodily décor. I browse the books covering the tasteful glass and steel coffee tables and scattered about the lobby of the shop and the hundreds of framed work hanging on the walls. I see nothing that I must have on my body before my current idea gets put onto my skin so I go for another grouping of meaningful lines to keep with me forever. Making my eighth Chinese symbol, "memory" will soon be on the right side of my collarbone, barely concealed by the collar of a tee shirt.
Prepped and stenciled, I lay on the table and close my eyes as I hear Jaime start her gun and the familiar buzz fills the air, effectively setting my zone within easy reach. As the cluster of needles makes contact with my skin, I take off into the corners of my mind. Reality is merely an inconvenience to which I'll return in an hour or so.
Before I realize that time had slipped away from me, I feel a cool sensation of my overly sensitized skin being wiped clean of the excess ink surrounding my latest acquisition. "Check it out," Jaime points toward the large mirror with the thick, extravagantly carved frame hanging on the wall behind me. I move to the mirror and focus, an enormous grin spreading across my face and tears flooding freely down my cheeks. "You've outdone yourself this time, Jaime. How long have I been in here? There's no way you did all of that in an hour’s time!"
"You were zoned out for about two and a half hours. You looked like you needed the break when you came in the door. You only grumble to yourself like that when you've either had a bad date or a bad lay. Or both," she explained with a snicker. "No extra charge. The additional work is all on me." Tears continue to cascade down my face at an alarming rate with a renewed fierceness; I see an amazing piece of work that is more than worthy of a magazine spotlight staring back at me.
Twin cherry blossoms frame the symbol on the top and bottom diagonals. Purple markings symbolize the single word that has helped me get through my toughest times and makes the best times even easier.
Memories. All of those memories.
Please allow me to back up and explain for a moment.
My grandmother suffers from the devastating effects of Alzheimer's disease. I have watched her slowly wither away over the course of my teenage years and now I am her sole responsible party when it comes to all of her financial and medical necessities and decisions. I have stayed by her side throughout the entirety of my life, but even more so since we received her heartbreaking diagnosis. Even once she was placed in a nursing home, I was with her every chance I had. With me running the store, it gets hard to be there every day, especially when it comes time for inventory or if we have a big sale going. I try my damnedest, though. That sweet little loud-mouthed lady was there for me when my mother passed away of uterine cancer at the young age of 40; she held me close and dried my tears, pushing me to hold myself together and push forward when all I wanted to do was give up. Not only is she my rock, she’s the sunshine in my life when the storm starts to take over. Cherry blossoms are her absolute favorite flower and she has always told me that I am her beautiful blossom, always calling me Cherry for as long as I can remember.