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I laughed. “My life was what you would call normal. My parents went everywhere together, and did everything together. I never saw them fight. My dad loved my mom more than anything; he adored her. They were high school sweethearts. I would always ask him to tell me the story of how they met. No matter how many times I heard it, I was amazed at how he certain he was that she would be the person he would marry one day – just from talking to her one time.
When she left, it was so out-of-the-blue, it didn’t even seem real. She kissed me goodbye as I left for school that morning; by the time I got home, she was gone. I was scared, confused, hurt – but when I watched the breakdown of my father, I had to put my feelings aside. It was like he couldn’t function without her. Over the years, his drinking got worse, and he sank deeper into his depression. I had to do everything. I was paying the water bill and studying for my algebra test. I always tried to make him feel better – like maybe if I do this one thing, he will snap out of it… but he never did. I found him bleeding out in the tub last year. I think that’s when the switch flipped in me. I just shut down.”
“It makes sense,” T.J. replied. “You held it together for so long because you had a reason to. You were busy taking care of your father – your mind was preoccupied, and your feelings were on the back burner. When you lost your father, you had no one to take care of but yourself. All of your focus was on you, and you didn’t know how to deal with the things you felt because you had bottled them up for so long.”
“I was so angry. It came on all of a sudden – like a tsunami of rage.”
“Rage is like that. It’s an addictive thing.”
“I blamed my mother for everything. How could I not? She was the first domino to fall, and she knocked down all of my other dominoes. If she never left, none of this would have happened.”
“You don’t know that, Merritt. There is no way for you to know what could have happened. Sometimes, we are led to the same path no matter which route we take. If your father relied that heavily on your mother for his happiness, there’s no telling what would have happened down the line. That’s why it is so important for you to take responsibility for your own actions, and create your own happiness, independent from anyone or anything else.” He sat up on his elbows. “I have to be honest with you. I’m a little worried about your long distance relationship, and how it will affect you.”
I rolled onto my side to face him, propping my head up with my hand. “What do you mean, how it will affect me?”
“When you’ve gone through the kind of shit we’ve been through, you need stability; you need someone who can be there for you when you need it – someone you can count on. I worry that you will be left with more disappointments than happy moments; more loneliness than affection; more sadness than laughter; more emptiness than fulfillment. I know you love him, and I’m sure he loves you, too; but, you need someone to love you the way you need to be loved.”
“How do I need to be loved?” I was almost too afraid to ask, unsure if what he said would compare to what I currently had.
T.J. was about to say something, but stopped himself. He shook his head as he sat up. “I can’t tell you that. That is something you need to ask yourself.”
“You two are supposed to be fighting, not sleeping,” Tanner called from several feet away.
I sprang up onto my feet. “Are we going to get your tattoo now?”
“Yup. You getting yours, too?”
“Not yet. I need to think of something good, first.”
“What are you getting done?” T.J. asked him.
“John is drawing something up for me. I told him I wanted something for my dad.”
“Does Beverly know?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No, but I’m hoping once she sees it – she will be happy with it.”
“If she kicks you out, you can always ask Charlotte to crash at her place.” I dug my elbow into his ribs as I waved goodbye to T.J.
T.J. shook his head at me. “Goodbye, Curly Sue.”
Tanner looked nervous as he sat in John’s chair ten minutes later. I sat in a chair beside him, anxiously waiting for the skin branding ritual to begin.
T.J.’s friend, John, was prepping his needle, and set up the ink on his tray. His earlobes were stretched out with enormous black gauges; his bald head was offset by his long braided beard; his arms were covered in colorful tattoos, sprawling out onto the tops of his hands. Though his exterior was loud, his voice was low and even.
“How do you know T.J.?” he asked, peering at me over the rim of his thick black glasses.
“I’m training at his gym.”
“You’re training to be a cage fighter?”
I laughed once. “Just the training part.”
“A fighter that doesn’t have any fights.” He stretched a pair of latex gloves onto his hands, and began wiping Tanner’s shoulder with disinfectant. “Do you have any tattoos?”
“Not one.”
“She’s interested, though,” Tanner chimed in. I noticed his leg was bouncing nervously as John placed the sketch onto his arm.
