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Chapter Eleven
Elijah
They looked unnatural on her. I rubbed my chin absentmindedly, staring at the framed artwork I’d recently put up in the shop. It was a painting without color except for the red dripping from the horned demon’s mouth and chin as he feasted upon the naked woman whose nipples leaked fluids. I drew him crouched, the lady in his hold. There was nothing else in the photo, the surrounding scenery faded out with different hues of grays and blacks.
“Elijah.”
She… Baby… Boobs. She breastfed….
“Elijah!”
Still not acknowledging Wendy, I murmured in my daze. “So… A mom’s body differs from a normal woman’s body.”
“Huh?” Lance muttered.
I finally turned away from the artwork—or most notably the bare tits I drew which were a tad too large for her body frame. I wouldn’t think too much about why I made them so big. Wendy's eyebrows were close to reaching her hairline as she gaped at me. “What’s with you? You’re normally only like this when sketching or painting, but you’re not doing either. You’re just staring all weird-like.”
Still ignoring her, I said, “Did you know a woman’s tits leaked when a baby cried?”
“Elijah.” She rubbed her forehead and then closed her eyes. “I’m not even sure I should say anything, but yeah, if a mother is breastfeeding, all sorts of natural things like that happen.” She looked at me and scoffed. “You sound like you’re just figuring out a woman’s breasts were actually there for a reason other than male perversion.”
Her words hit the mark. It was a shitty way to think, but I didn’t even realize women still did that now. I meant, of course, I knew. I just knew no one who did it. Fuck. I couldn’t explain it. Leaking tits were foreign, bizarre, and equally intriguing to me.
“Considering how big Cheryl’s tits are, I’d say you like a nice rack better than we do,” Lance piped in. He was the only one doing a tattoo. It was one of our slow days without appointments and only a few walk-ins.
“I won’t deny it,” Wendy agreed with a sly grin before glancing at me. “Is this about that mom? Do you like her or something?”
A month ago I saw those two wet circles on Hadley’s shirt, and I still thought about them. Whenever I saw Hadley and Lucy, my mind went back to that moment.
On two different evenings I caught up with them using the excuse that I had chips for Lucy. Two weeks ago I placed them on her car, hoping that the apartment kids didn’t steal them. Hadley never spoke to me directly. It was always, What do you say, Lucy followed by a quick bye.
My hanging around didn’t matter much. Only thing Hadley wanted was to get as far away as possible.
Fuck if I knew what my deal was with Hadley and Lucy. I was pushing the boundaries between us. Why? I had no idea, but I couldn’t stop myself.
I kept wondering about Hadley. Things like just how young she was, and what was her last name. Was the kids’ father still in the picture? If so, where the hell was he?
Anyone could see just how worn out Hadley was. The woman didn’t take time for herself. Every time I saw Hadley she had her blonde hair twisted on top of her head. She didn’t wear makeup to cover those dark circles that stuck out on her pale skin. Her most striking feature was her twinkling blue eyes.
Her weariness hid Hadley’s beauty. I saw it in every move she made and the way she spoke. Lately, I wondered what she’d look like well-rested, well-fed, and relaxed. Why the hell hadn’t someone come to her rescue and let her get some much-needed sleep?
But if she was a single mom, she probably had no choice. Ma worked herself to the bone until Hank stepped into the restaurant where she worked and swept her off her feet. My actual father—not that I’d ever call him that—was out of the picture before I was born. Up and left Ma before she found out she was pregnant. By the time she told him, he’d already gotten another woman pregnant. Two at the same time. He took one and rejected the other. As a child, he tried reaching out to me. I was ten years old and gullible. I fell for his lies about all the cool stuff we would do together and the places he’d take me. Every single time he bailed. Eventually, I stopped answering his calls, and he stopped coming around. At first his absence upset me. Then I realized I didn’t mean much to him, and I stopped caring. I had a good life with Hank, the only father I needed.
“Oh, my God, you do!” Wendy screeched, giving her own meaning to my silence.
“I don’t see her as anything other than a young mom,” I grumbled, then let my shoulders slump. “I kind of feel sorry for her.”
“Why?” Lance asked. I turned around and saw him frowning with a questioning expression. “She has a baby too, right? The kids probably have different fathers. I got a cousin with four baby daddies. She falls in love within a week and thinks she needs to have a baby with every new guy. She doesn’t need you feeling sorry for her. I’m sure she’s living just fine off of child support.”
I went ramrod straight in my seat. Hadley didn’t seem like the sort. She seemed too innocent and busy with her life.
What the fuck, Elijah?
Something was obviously wrong with me, especially when it came to the m-o-m. I went from judging her just like Lance was to wanting to defend her. Why? It wasn’t like she wanted me around or anything. Maybe it was her naivete—a promise of goodness—that captivated me.
“Wow,” Wendy muttered. “Not every single mom is like that.” She shook her head as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “Working here with you guys every day reminds me why I’m a lesbian.”
“She works and goes to some nursing school. I don’t even think she sleeps.” I wiped my mouth in irritation. “I don’t know her, but she’s definitely not whatever the fuck you just said.” I scowled at Lance.
