Page 37 of Inking My Crush


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Confused emotion twists through me. I want to go to my man, hug him, lay my cheek against his back, and listen to his heart pounding through his firm body. I’d tell him I’m grateful he feels so passionately about me, but he could have said it less shockingly, that’s for sure.

“And you know all this after, what, a week?” Mom finally says.

Brian doesn’t turn but replies, “I knew it after a minute, Janine. It’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. It’s not something I can explain. It’s like what Roger used to say about the first time he saw y—”

“No,” Mom interrupts. “That’s not fair. You’re not allowed to use me and Roger as an example. Roger wasn’t my crush growing up. Roger isn’t over twice my age. I never used to call Roger ‘uncle.’ Do you see the difference?”

“Mom, stop speaking to him like that.”

She turns to me sharply. “Excuse me? This is my home, and this… man has violated my daughter. I’ll speak to him however I want.”

“Violated?” I yell. “That’s just ridiculous. I’m a grown woman. Everything we’ve done has been consensual.”

“That is a tough word, Janine,” Dad says.

She spins on him just as sharply. I’m surprised her eyes aren’t slicing right through people.

“So you’re on their side,” she says.

“No, I’m not saying that.”

“But you’re wavering,” Mom goes on. “I can tell. What was it, his little speech?”

“Is it the truth, Brian?”

Finally, my man turns. He looks even fiercer than in the office, staring down Keith and his man. His wild hair is even messier than usual, making me want to run my hand through it.

“I swear,” he says. “I want to marry her, care for her, provide for her, and be the man she deserves. If you grant me your blessing, I promise I’d always do the best for her.”

Dad inhales quickly at the word promise. “You’ve never broken a promise to me.”

“He kissed your daughter… and did more with her.” Mom’s voice is firm. “Isn’t that worse?”

“He never promised not to do that.”

“That’s a goddamn technicality. He shouldn’t have had to promise that,” Mom says.

“Doesn’t it change things?” Dad says. “If it’s not just a fling?”

Mom sits back and folds her arms tightly. “Clearly, for you, it does.”

“Do you want the same, Evie?” Dad says.

“She’s obviously going to say yes. She’s had a fairytale dream about this since she was a kid. She’s not in the best position to decide, is she?”

“Let her speak, Janine.”

“I do,” I say, the words tingling through me.

I do—what we’ll hopefully get to say one day.

“I know it seems crazy, but I’m ready to start a family and begin my life. Maybe it’s old-fashioned, but I don’t see why I have to date a bunch of guys, have a bunch of hookups, and make a bunch of mistakes when I’ve already found the man I want. I’m not judging anybody who chooses that path. It’s just not the one for me.”

“But how can you know?” Mom says.

Without meaning to, my response comes out way too aggressive. “How do I know the sky is blue? How do I know how to breathe? I just know, Mom. When I think of the future…”

I pause when Brian returns to his seat. Only this time, he doesn’t leave an entire cushion between us, more like half a cushion. These are the sorts of victories I’m paying attention to now.

“I see us together,” I go on. “I see a family. I see Brian building up his tattoo studio empire and me working with him or maybe focusing on my art as I stay home and raise the kids. It’s a concrete, practical plan, not just some crazy fantasy.”

“But it was a crazy fantasy,” Mom whispers, but some of her resolve is fading, “when you had the crush. For years, that’s what it was, right? Just a dream.”

“Yeah, sure, but things change. This isn’t just a crush anymore.”

Mom stares at me for what feels like a year. That’s melodramatic as hell, maybe, but it also feels like that. She keeps staring, then gnaws the inside of her cheek.

Finally, she sighs. “I don’t know. I can’t talk about this right now, but I know one thing. Neither of you is staying in my house tonight.”

She leaves before we can reply, stomping up the stairs with heavy footsteps. A photo drops from the wall, the frame shattering. I walk over and pick it up. It’s one of me, Mom, Dad, and Brian. This photo was taken at a mini golf course before I got my braces.

“What about you, Roger?” Brian says from behind me.

I place the photo on the counter and turn. Dad is staring at his best friend with the same intensity Mom aimed at me. “Do you think it’s wrong, too?”

“Swear you meant everything you said.”

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