Page 25 of Tattered
Ten
RYAN
Swinging open the front door of Tattered, I hearEvenge Sevenfoldblaring through the speakers. Chris glances up from his workstation before turning his attention back to what he’s working on.
Andi is seated in the office chair, reclined back with her feet up on the desk with a magazine in her hand. Distracted by the music, she doesn’t seem to pay attention to me or maybe she’s so out of it she doesn’t even hear the doorbell.
“Excuse me!” I shout over the music. That must be the wakeup call she needs as it forces her into action, setting her feet on the floor and pressing her hand against her chest.
“Holy hell!” she shouts back before holding the remote up to the stereo, bringing the volume down to a more manageable level.
“You going to get up and actually do some work around here?”
“I’m sorry, I was taking a break.”
The foot traffic in and out of the shop is very rarely slow. We are one of the leading tattoo shops in the area, which is saying a lot considering the size of Des Moines. Growing up in Everton, it was nice having a small town feel not too far away from the big city. It made it an easy decision when we were deciding where to open our shop, knowing having it here would be the best place to bring in new customers.
“Break is up. I can think of a hundred things that you could be doing that are not putting your feet up on my fucking desk. If you want a break, go get a coffee, then come back and get to it.”
I add that on the end to make it less angry because despite how annoyed I was coming in to see her like that, I’m actually in a good mood.
I spend the next twenty minutes going through my schedule for the upcoming week. Maverick will be leaving soon and the best way for me to keep my mind off him leaving is by keeping occupied.
I haven’t spoken to Maverick in a week since our fight. After I stormed out of the hotel room, I swore to myself I wasn’t going to put myself through the heartbreak of reaching out to him. He was the one who was in the wrong here, not me.
Truth be told, I had every expectation of never hearing from him again. That didn’t stop me from driving by the hotel every morning on my way to get coffee. It was pointless really; I could’ve walked to the coffee shop. I knew what I was doing though.
I wanted to see if he had left town yet. I’ve spent every minute since I left preparing myself for it to happen. It wouldn’t be the first time he walked away without giving me much of an explanation.
The weight I felt lift off my chest when I saw his dad’s pickup parked in the hotel parking lot felt like a ten-ton boulder being released from my chest. He hasn’t been driving it; I’m not sure if it’s because it was his dad’s and the resentment he holds toward him, or if being in the pickup brings back memories of us.
I know he was dead set on selling it before he left town and I didn’t think he’d leave without doing so just because we got into an argument. I even called the hotel to see if he had checked out and they confirmed he still had reservations. I could’ve easily found out his plans if I called Dean and asked, but I was forcing myself to move on from Maverick. Or at least that’s what I was telling myself I’ve been doing.
After picking up my coffee, I went back to my place and grabbed my notebook. I was going to sit at my desk and do some sketching. It was something I often did when I had a lot on my mind. Feeling more awake, I snagged my board from where it sat against the wall. Sticking my notebook and pencils into my backpack, I take off with no real destination in mind.
I needed some fresh air and I knew wherever I ended up would leave me inspired.
The feeling of the warm breeze against my face and the sunlight beating down heated my skin. I was dressed in a black tank top and a pair of skinny jeans, topped off with my signature snapback. My sun-kissed skin still looked bronze from my trip out to California and I promised myself to try and keep the warm glow through the rest of the summer.
The sound of the wheels beat against the cracks on the concrete, using my right foot to help pick up speed. I wasn’t planning on coming down here when I left, but the closer I got to the water, the slower I went.
I’ve continued to come down by the river, the place where Maverick and I spent my birthday together, over the years. Although, now that I think about it, it’s been a few months since I’ve been down here. It was just after the cooler weather started to warm up and I found myself anxious to claim my board again.
Using my foot to press down on the back of the worn wood, I skid to a stop in front of the dock. There is a park down by the Cedar River with picnic tables and trails, winding around the edge of the water. Setting my board on the grass underneath an old oak tree, I lean against the tree and slide my bag between my feet.
Reaching inside, I pull out my notebook and start flipping through the pages of drawings I’ve kept over the years. I never got rid of the notebook Maverick gave me. I only pulled it out when I found that the memories got to me too much.
Stopping on one of the pages, I let my finger trace over the word ‘rebel’ etched on the page. Flipping to the next, I look at the heart I had drawn as a sketch of the tattoo that now lives on my skin. The heart looked a lot like the one Maverick had asked about on our first night alone together. Only now, the heart in this picture looks every bit of the one I felt beating in my chest after he left.
Looking back now, I was so young and naïve to think that I could so blindly open myself up to him and share parts of me I hadn’t even told my best friend. He may have been Dean’s best friend, but Maverick was still a stranger to me on the outside. I had given my heart to a stranger and even after all these years, I feel like I still haven’t got it back.
I was so willing to give myself to him that I left myself unprotected. In doing so, he took my heart and left it torn and tattered, barely beating. I remember when I drew this tattoo, I promised myself I wouldn’t be so reckless with it again. I would guard myself and remember what it felt like to barely get by every day.
My fingers run along his initials, which I hid in the shading of the tattoo. When Chris transferred the sketch to ink, I asked him to make sure that he kept them there. Looking at a glance, you’d likely never even notice them, but I knew they were there and that was all that mattered to me.
I had let my mind drift off, remembering all those emotions I felt when I was drawing, that I never even heard the pickup pull up in the parking area not too far from where I was sitting. I certainly never heard Maverick get out of the truck and walk up to me, peering over me as the memories crash over me in waves.
“You okay?” The sound of his voice coming out is more of a grumble taking me off guard.
