The steady thump of my footsteps echoed in my ears. I saw the tunnel ahead and dug in, picking up the pace as I eyed the finish. The air rushed in and out of my lungs in a mild burn and I pushed myself as hard as I could. The ground below me blurred as my heart pounded to the beat of my heart. You can do it! You can do it!
I was up to running five miles and it seemed as if each day I was making progress. So much so that I started to look at local runs to participate in. I loved running on the rail trail. I could go on autopilot without having to worry about traffic, something I had to be cognizant of the mornings when I ran in the city. There were no crosswalks, no stop signs or red lights. Just a meandering path that followed the old railroad tracks through part of the county I’d not see otherwise.
My throat ached for air and, when I’d passed the tunnel, I slowed down and eventually walked. It was a great start to my Saturday. After a shower and a bite to eat, I had my appointment with Bryce. Today was tattoo day, and another opportunity to cross something off my list. Bryce and I had gone back and forth a few times on the design and I loved where we’d ended up. I especially loved that he was able to incorporate the numeral sixty-six into the design.
I was walking Muffin when David called. “Hi, Mom. Thought I’d check in to see how everything’s going.”
“Great.”
“Really?” I heard the surprise in David’s voice.
“Yep, just ran five miles.”
“That’s great, Mom. Keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll nail that marathon. By the way, I’m able to get away for a long weekend. Are you going to be around in two weeks? I thought I’d fly home, see your new place and, of course, spend time with Dad. I’m worried about him.”
“That’s great, David.”
“I did some checking and…”
I interrupted him. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“No, it’s good. Well, I think it’s good and I’m hoping you do, too. There’s a small race in town the Saturday after I come home. I thought we could run it together.”
Now I was the one surprised. “How long?”
“10K.”
“Yikes! That’s more than I’m used to running.”
“Mom, you just ran five miles. It’s 1.2 miles more. You can definitely do it.”
I said yes before I had a chance to reconsider. “This will be my first race. I hope I don’t look stupid.”
“Trust me, Mom, you won’t.”
“Have you talked to your father lately?”
“Just did. He sounded awful.”
“The chemo drains him,” I said.
“Have you seen him lately?”
“Actually, I was going to stop over after I get my tattoo.”
“Whoa! Wait! Mom! You’re getting a tattoo? Dang! I don’t even have a tattoo.”
I guess I hadn’t told David about what I’d planned, so I explained.
“Are you going through a midlife crisis, Mom? You move. You go on a road trip with Shonna. You’re working on opening a store. And now you’re getting a tattoo.”
“They were all on my list!”
“The tattoo was on your list?”
“Well, not exactly. But doing something unexpected is. And I never thought I’d ever get a tattoo. Back in my day, the only people I knew who had them were guys in the service. But it’s different today. It’s become part of mainstream America.”
“Yeah, makes sense. But there are still a lot of companies that would frown on any tattoo that’s visible.”
“That’s why I’m getting it on my hip. No one will know it’s there except me.”
I repeated my promise to check in on Mike after my appointment with Bryce and headed to his shop.
Bryce was behind the counter checking out a customer when I walked in. He nodded and I waved. When the man turned round, I realized it was Peter. I hadn’t recognized him from the back, and he was wearing a blue and white baseball cap.
I smiled. “Hi, Peter.”
“Scarlett, what are you doing here?”
I laughed. “Probably the same thing you are. Today’s the day Bryce does my tattoo.”
Peter looked at Bryce and then at me. “Oh, I see.”
I sensed that Peter was curious, so I divulged more information than I normally would. But he wasn’t exactly a stranger. I’d been attending his class regularly. I’d even bought cycle shoes. Renee was right about smoother pedal strokes and not bouncing in the seat, which helped my pelvic floor a lot.
“A butterfly, eh? I love the symbolism, too.”
“Thanks.”
Now it was Peter’s turn to offer some additional information and I paused to see if he would. He delivered.
“I was just checking out the memorial tattoos. I’m still undecided, but Bryce comes highly recommended. I’d like to hear about your experience afterward.”
“Sure.”
I was curious about who Peter loved who had passed away, but I figured if he wanted to share he would. We said goodbye and I hopped onto the padded table like Bryce instructed.
“Here’s a pillow. Just try to relax. Put your right arm over your head.”
Bryce cleaned the area and then went over it with a disposable razor to remove any hair.
“When I looked in the mirror, I never even saw any hair on my hip.”
Bryce laughed. “Even the smallest of hairs can cause problems, so I want to make certain the area is smooth before the transfer.”
He then wiped the area again.
“Ready?” he asked.
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Yes, let’s do it.”
Bryce placed the piece of thermal paper, positioning it exactly where we’d discussed and pressed it against my skin. When he pulled it away, there was a purple-ish blue likeness of my future tattoo.
“Last chance to turn back,” he said.
“No, it looks good.”
“I’m going to put some ointment over the transfer,” Bryce explained. “It’ll keep it from rubbing off and help the needle slide along the skin more smoothly.”
Bryce put on black latex gloves and prepared the tattoo machine and opened a pack of fresh needles.
“That looks like some kind of weapon you’d see in a sci-fi flick,” I said.
Bryce laughed. “Now remember. If you’re nervous, don’t hold your breath. Take a nice, slow, deep breath and try to relax. The first minute or so will be the roughest. After that, your skin will get used to it and the pain will subside.”
Whenever I’m nervous about something, I try to go to my happy place in my mind. I pictured the beautiful butterfly house I’d taken the kids to when they were little. More than a thousand live tropical butterflies flew freely in the glass conservatory. We’d watched a butterfly emerge from a jewel-like chrysalis. Walked among tropical plants and trees. It was a beautiful day and I remember how excited Tory had been when a butterfly landed on her shoulder.
I bit my lip as Bryce created the black outline of the design. He then wiped away the remaining bluish marks.
“You’re doing great,” Bryce said. “The outline is done. Now the fun part begins.”
The rest of the tattoo didn’t hurt as much as getting the outline. The coloring and shading seemed to go quickly.
“All done,” Bryce said.
I looked at my tattoo in the mirror. “It’s beautiful, Bryce. Just the right size. You did a great job.”
“Thanks. Now, let’s talk about care.” Bruce explained that I needed to care for the tattoo just as I would care for a wound. He applied a layer of ointment before applying a bandage and handed me a piece of paper explaining aftercare, but also told me in person.
“If you have any problems, call me. But I don’t expect you to. Everything went well.”
I left the tattoo shop feeling great. Once, when I was little, I came across a Monarch butterfly with crumpled wings. Apparently, it had emerged from the pupal case and fallen to the ground before its wings were fully opened. The wings dried in a wrinkled and folded position and the butterfly was unable to fly. I didn’t want to be that butterfly. I didn’t want to emerge, only to discover a parasite had taken my life away. And yet I knew, especially since I was going through all of this with Mike, how quickly life could turn. One minute you might be running a marathon, the next battling a disease with the potential to take your life.
I rang Mike’s doorbell but he didn’t answer. I knew he was home. Tory had called me after David this morning and like him, she, too, was worried about her dad.
I knocked on the door. First gently then with more force. I heard the door knob jiggle and Mike opened the door. He looked awful. Bags under his eyes and a few days’ growth on his chin and cheeks. He was wearing sweats and an old gray T-shirt I recognized from our college days.
“Hi, Scarlett.”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
I stepped into his apartment, which looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in months. The floor was littered with stacks of newspapers and magazines and clothing. “Mike, I thought you had a cleaning lady.”
“I do. Gloria’s visiting her daughter in California.”
“I can tell. Have you eaten anything today?”
“Some toast. Food just doesn’t taste good to me.”
“Here, let me help.”
I walked with Mike back to his bedroom, which looked even messier than the living room. Clothes covered the floor and I sneezed, probably from the inch of dust on the dresser.
I checked the kitchen, but there was little in his pantry and even less in his refrigerator. A couple of eggs and some moldy bread were all I could find. And when I checked the expiration date on the eggs, they were a month old.
I walked back to Mike. “Listen, Mike. The kids are worried about you. And looking at this place, they have a reason to be. I promised them I’d look after you. It’s obvious you need help. Why don’t you stay with me until Gloria returns from visiting her daughter? That way I can keep an eye on you and you’re not alone.”
I could tell by his silence he was considering the offer. “But I don’t want to be a nuisance.”
“You won’t be. You’ll have your own bedroom, own bathroom. I’ll be there in the morning and at night. But at least I have more to eat than a couple pieces of moldy bread and expired eggs.”
Mike nodded. “Then I’ll pay you.”
“I don’t want your money. I’m doing this for the kids. They need you.”
I could see tears pool in his eyes. “So you’re not doing it for me?”
“Well, of course I’m doing it for you. I care about you. I want you to get better.”
“But you no longer love me.”
“That ship sailed a long time ago, Mike. But it doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or want the best for you. I want you to get better.”
“Sometimes I wonder if I got sick because of what I did to you. Kind of like payback.”
“Oh, Mike, don’t think that. There are a lot of people who get sick. It’s not God’s way of punishing you for what you’ve done. Think about children who get cancer. Innocent children. Sometimes life deals us a hand that sucks, but you can’t throw in the cards. You have two wonderful children who need their dad. They might be adults now, but they need you in their life.”
Mike started to cry and I sat down on the bed beside him. I rubbed his back. “Let me help you.”
Suddenly it occurred to me that Mike was like that butterfly with crumpled wings. It couldn’t fly because a parasite had infected its body. It would never fly. But I hoped Mike’s story would end differently. He had a chance to beat the parasite. And I was willing to help him.
Later that night, after I’d made Mike a toasted cheese sandwich and tomato soup and helped him to bed, I called Tory and David to tell them their father was staying with me, at least until Gloria returned. I’d brought the clothes I’d picked up off the floor and washed them and left the rest of the apartment for Gloria to tackle when she returned.
“So, how is he?” Tory asked. “As bad as he sounded?”
I’d never lied to my kids and I wasn’t going to start now. “Your instincts were right, Tory. He needed help.”
“Thanks, Mom. I know it’s uncomfortable for you.”
“It’s fine.”
“I’ll be home next week to visit.”
That night, after Muffin and I went to bed, I pulled out the list to look at everything I’d accomplished so far. I’d crossed off:
Take a road trip with my bestie
Do one thing I’m scared of
Dance in the rain
Go horseback riding
Do something unexpected
Try something adventurous
What did I want to do next?