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I can't keep up with Dad and Gia's conversation—something about the director's latest movie.
For two hours, I sit with my family, with every ounce of my attention elsewhere. After the credits roll, Dad and Gia move to the kitchen for coffee. I decline. Head upstairs. Lock myself in my room.
Except for the moonlight streaming through the window, it's dark.
I leave the light off.
Pull the letter from my pocket. Tear it open.
I can just barely make out the words. It's a simple appointment reminder. Doctor's name. Time. Date.
The paper behind it goes into the test. An MRI. No jewelry. Expect an hour. Arrive early for paperwork.
Nothing about the possibility of life changing forever.
I fold the paper on my desk. Slide into my cheap Ikea rolling chair. My salary is good for an apprentice—most shops pay nothing or a tiny per diem—but it's still going to take me forever to upgrade my furniture. Moving into my own place is a pipe dream.
My eyes go to my alarm clock. The same one I used all through high school.
The time is there in red numbers.
Ten thirty.
An hour and a half until my deadline.
Dean wants to teach me. Exclusively.
I want to learn.
He may not be the best artist at the shop, but he's the only one really trying to mentor me.
He's my best chance to master ink.
And well…
I might not have a lot of time for that.
For anything.
Even if I'm okay…
I'm probably okay.
The odds are good. I repeat the words over and over, but they don't stick in my brain.
I say it again anyway.
I'm probably okay.
I probably have a long, healthy life ahead of me.
But I'm tired of wasting time.
This is what I want.
I'm t
aking it.
