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But she doesn’t stop.
“He might not have gone that path you wanted him to, Mr. Coleman. I get that. My sister and I haven’t gone the paths our father would have wanted.”Yeah, like not living for him and his debts,I think. “But sons and fathers were made to butt heads.” Tanner snorts, and I kick him under the table. Lola’s hand tightens on my own. “And you might be disappointed, but Ben is doing what he was made to do. Creating art that changes lives.”
“No offense, Lola, but he tattoos.” There it is.
That’s the part he’s never truly deigned to say out loud, the part I’ve been avoiding.
I know that my father thinks my chosen path is simple, useless. That while he, and now Tanner, were out being productive and building homes and businesses, I wasjust tattooing.Not chasing or living my dream. Definitely nothelpingpeople.
Just drawing pretty pictures on people’s skin.
My mom opens her mouth to say something.
I see Tanner’s chin tip and know he’s about to speak too.
I move to argue, to stop this before it starts, I don’t know.
But Lola beats us all.
“With all due respect, Mr. Coleman, I’ve been in his shop. I’ve talked to clients. I get it, you’re from a generation where tattoos meant something else. It’s not like that anymore. Tattoos are . . . a celebration. A tool for healing. I’ve met clients who get your son’s beautiful art permanently etched on their bodies to commemorate a loss. I’ve met a woman who beat cancer. Clients using tattoos to celebrate their children or glorying in the fact that they beat terrible, other absolutely horrible circumstances that I don’t dare bring to this lovely dinner.” She stops and rubs her lips together.
Her tell.
She’s full of emotions right now, fighting this battle for me.
I move a hand to her thigh, trying to get her to stop, but she keeps on.
“His art heals. It soothes. Just because it’s not what you wanted, what you expected, doesn’t make it any less valid. You have two incredibly successful sons. You should be blown away by both of them, feel unending pride in that.”
Mom speaks up, dabbing at her eyes.
“I know I am. So incredibly proud of both of you.”
“Tattooing isn’t—” dad starts
“I’m going to stop you there, Mr. Coleman. Respectfully, it doesn’t matter what you think. Your son has spent years avoiding this town he clearly loves, this family he adores, because he was afraid to hear this. Hear your opinions. But you know what? I think that’s bullshit.”
“Excuse me—”
“She’s right, Mr. Coleman.” My head moves to Jordan, my future sister-in-law whose own shoulders have straightened. “The first time I met you, you were frustrated that Tanner was running Coleman and Sons opposite of how you did. But he saved that company. And now Tanner is doing amazing things, and he doesn’t even like to talk about it for fear of you invalidating that.” I look to Tanner, whose eyes are on the ceiling. They move to mine, and his head shakes, silently saying,“Trust me, it doesn’t get easier.”
I feel like Jordan and Lola will get alongjust fine.
“What Tanner does is important,” Lola says. “What your family built, that legacy, isimportant. But becauseyouchose to continue that because of some banal first son rule does not mean that Ben was required to. And honestly, he doesn’t deserve having you make him feel like shit for it.”
“Lola,” I say, trying to slow her down.
“No, I’m serious, Ben. Both times we drove up here, you were a stressed-out mess. The last time I saw it. You didn’t want to leave once we were here. You love these people. You should feel free to live your life, come here, and be happy,”
“You made your point, babe,” I say, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and praying she just stops.
She doesn’t.
“I just—”
“You’re right, Lola.”
The entire room goes silent with Dad’s words.
