“Can you go back to massaging my head? That felt so good.”
It brings me much-needed comfort to know I am making Mina feel good as I return to gently kneading my fingertips against her head.
“Hmm.” She sighs and leans even more of her weight against me.
I massage her like this for as long as she wants, until her head lolls around and she dips it under the spray, turning her body to face me. Watching the water coast off her breasts again sparks another little fire of lust inside me but I focus all my attention on helping Mina rinse the suds out of her hair.
“You’re good at this,” she says.
“Well, if all else fails, I’ll retrain as a hairdresser,” I say.
“No, you won’t. If you ever leave advertising, you should retrain as a teacher,” she says pointedly, and I’m slightly taken aback she remembered that conversation.
“Maybe,” I say, as non-committal to the concept as I am the conversation.
“You should do it anyway,” Mina says. “You know there are fast-track schemes where you can do a conversion course in just a year by working and learning on the job, in a school.”
“How do you know that?”
“I looked it up,” she replies.
“When?”
“This week. I was curious. I wanted to see just how easy it would be for you and just as I thought, it is pretty easy. You’re just making excuses.” Her words are harsh, but her tone isn’t. It’s more matter of fact, as it should be because what she’s saying is brutally, painfully, undeniably true.
“It’s not that simple. I have a mortgage to pay and a newly qualified teacher doesn’t exactly earn the same as a head of department at a creative agency.”
“Fine, then work for another two years or so and save up some money as a cushion. Or, move out of Zone Two. That would save you huge amounts on your mortgage.” She turns around to face the spray and wash her face.
My laugh is weak. “You’ve got it all figured out.”
Mina looks over her shoulder at me. “Kids need good teachers, Charlie. You’d make an excellent teacher. That will always be true no matter how many obstacles you put in front of yourself.”
Because I feel heat dart up my spine, because finally, finally my erection is waning, because I’m feeling affronted and defensive and restless, I bite back.
“I could say the same to you.”
Mina snorts. “No, I would make an awful teacher. I categorically and unapologetically hate kids.”
“I mean you being an excellent tattoo artist. You’d be incredible at it.”
“But being a tattoo artist is not the same as being a teacher,” she says in a voice that may as well have added a big ‘Duh’ onto the end of the sentence.
“You mean it’s not an important profession?” I ask, and somehow my hands and more shampoo have ended up in Mina’s hair and I’m repeating the massaging of her scalp as it all lathers up.
“Of course, it’s not,” Mina replies. “Teachers are literally responsible for ensuring future generations aren’t a waste of space. Tattoo artists are just there to doodle on people’s bodies and make them look pretty.”
“Mina,” I say, pausing my movements for a moment so she really listens to what I’m saying. “Do you really think that?”
“I said it, didn’t I?”
“Is that all you think your tattoos are? Just pretty little doodles?” I run my hands down the ink on her arms, admiring the art all over again.
“No, I know that tattoos mean more to the individual person, but that doesn’t mean they’re important to other people. It doesn’t mean that they’re life-saving or good for society or the economy.”
“Screw the economy,” I say, going back to shampooing her hair. “But you can’t say they’re not life-saving or good for society. I have absolutely no doubt someone somewhere has a tattoo that gives them a reason to stay alive when things get dark. And we both know as creatives how important it is to have an outlet to express who we are in this life. And what’s good for people individually is good for society in general.”
Mina doesn’t reply and she goes very still under my hands.
