Page 40 of The Pale Rider
I had a flash of memory. I didn’t have a printer with the right paper or anything to transfer this design to her skin when I was done. If they had tracing paper and Speedstick deodorant, it would work in a pinch. I thought that would be way too much to ask for, but Jade managed to produce some.
She had a nice little setup for me to tattoo her on if I could manage the pumpkin. I held up my drawing for her approval.
“Ha! I love it. I really hope you can pull it off on my pumpkin because I’m dying to sport that right across my chest. And I want it as colorful as possible.”
I was feeling a little better about this. Holding Smurfette in my hand made it feel like all my missing memories weren’t totally horrible, but getting the part of myself back that liked to draw was just a silver lining in the middle of all this shit.
“Can I keep this sketch pad and pen?”
Jade grinned at me. “I got them for you. Things may have gone to shit, but an artist should still be able to create.”
“Okay, let me at that pumpkin.”
Aeron had been silent this entire time, but when I stood up, he was right there and pulled me into a huge hug. Jade let out a wolf whistle as I stood there pressed against his hard chest.
“You can do this, Speedy. You can do anything you want. You always have.”
Aeron had all this faith in me. He handed me my bat like he just knew I could defend myself getting out of that hospital, even though I had no idea who I was. I needed to have more faith in myself.
I didn’t make a stencil for the pumpkin. I was just going to practice. I picked up the tattoo gun. It was heavier than the pencil, but the weight just felt right in my hand. There were little cups for the ink. This was familiar. I used to be able to do this in my sleep. I could do this.
I squirted gel on my paper towel and situated my ink cups in it so they wouldn’t fall over. I kicked the gun on and felt the vibrations in my arm. I knew this. I could remember a little. I spent years apprenticing with the best tattoo artist in Los Angeles before I opened my own shop with a great artist I’d met and bonded with at a tattoo convention.
I just knew as I started working on the pumpkin. I knew how much pressure. I knew how deep to go without scarring and I knew how to blend to make just the right color palette. I worked in a haze. I had an image in my head, and I just needed to get it out on the tattoo. I couldn’t even say what it was if someone asked me what it was. I would have been pissed if they broke my concentration.
I turned the gun off and stepped back. I didn’t even know what I had tattooed on this pumpkin. I looked to see what it was. Aeron peered over my shoulder. I had tattooed four stylized horse heads. One was the color of Meremoth, one was black, one was red, and the other was white. Was this some memory because it didn’t make sense?
“What does it mean?” I asked Aeron.
“It means you are getting closer to getting your memories back. And it means you can give Jade something she’s been wanting for years. You can spread some light during all this mess.”
“That looks like Meremoth and his brothers. If I never met you before and Meremoth scares the shit out of me, how do I know what his brothers look like?”
“In time, Speedy. Get that tattoo done because I think more of your memories will come back when I get you home.”
Chapter 25
I
had so many questions about those four horses I tattooed on the pumpkin, but I knew Aeron would not tell me yet, and I had a job to do. Maybe it would all make sense when we got to Los Angeles. I didn’t want to think about why I was drawing strange things on pumpkins. I didn’t want to think about bombed-out landscapes or corpses that chased you.
I wanted to feel normal for a few hours, so I threw myself into doing Jade’s tattoo. It just felt right, like I was supposed to be doing this. It took several hours, but I eventually finished it. Jade was ecstatic and walked around the entire top floor in just her leather bra to show it off. That was the kind of happy customer I liked.
Jade wouldn’t let us leave until she threw a tattoo celebration. It was a strange party, but there was alcohol. Most of it was moonshine and hooch, and I was pretty sure I would end up with hair on my chest after drinking it. They’d made this endless supply of dips from local produce and dairy.
By the time we got back to the hotel room, I had passed out. Aeron was nowhere near as drunk as the Wild Turkey incident and had to hold my hair back while I puked. How mortifying. He was very gentle when he helped me to bed.
I was hungover as all fuck the next morning, but Aeron wasn’t going easy on me. He woke me up at the ass crack of dawn, and I was on the back of Meremoth after breakfast. If I thought riding that horse sober was scary, trying to hang onto that saddle with a raging headache, while I felt like barfing, was much worse.
Aeron kept a punishing pace to Los Angeles. We stopped to sleep only when curfew started, and we would have gotten arrested for being on the street. We were back on the road as soon as curfew allowed us to be back on the street.
I was so tired, but at least I was clean, and my belly was full. I could deal with that because I think we were both banking on a lot of my memories returning at my apartment. Jade’s gift was also paying off. That sketch pad was coming in handy, and we’d eventually have to find another.
Before bed, I would sit with my sketch pad and sort of go into this trance. Some things I drew made little sense at all like the four horses. Most of the pictures Aeron would explain to me. The first photo I drew was my father, as I last saw him. Aeron confirmed that for me. I drew him in a trance with devil horns and 666 written across his forehead.
I drew more scenes like the Alice in Wonderland tattoos on my arms. Aeron explained they were my favorite books as a child. My father never gave me any or read to me. It was the only book appropriate for children in his library. I stole them and read them cover to cover all the time. I took his first edition copies when I ran away. Aeron swore they were still at my apartment where I’d left them. He also promised there were still sketchpads all over the place, and he’d make room in his saddlebags so I could take as many as he could carry and us still eat.
I was antsy, and the closer we got to Los Angeles, the more my anxiety grew. What if we got to my apartment, and I didn’t remember a fucking thing? What if it seemed like a stranger’s home? I knew that would break me. Aeron put all his stock and planned his route to Mexico with a stop there. He had all his hopes in that apartment triggering some of my memories.
