Saturday, October 28
(Gus)
I wish I could stay in bed all day and just sleep. I want to skip this day. I want to jump from Friday midnight, to midnight Sunday morning.
I hate reminders.
And today is the worst reminder of all.
It's five-thirty in the morning and I can't go back to sleep. Ma is awake; I hear the coffee pot brewing down the hall. She's always been an early riser, like Bright Side was.
I vocally kick myself in the ass. "Get up you big bastard. Let's face this day."
I search around on the floor for a pair of shorts. I should probably think about doing some laundry—it's reached a critical level. I find a pair of swim trucks and give them the sniff test. They smell bad but still look clean, so I slip them on.
Ma's in the kitchen when I get there. Her coffee mug is raised halfway to her mouth. She doesn't look surprised to see me up so early. Without hesitation she sets her mug on the counter and walks over to me. This is the part where we say good morning and make small talk. The part where we act like it's any other day.
Except that it's not any other day.
Ma wraps her arms around my waist, and I wrap mine around her shoulders and pull her in tight. We both hold on. She's tense, and she's trying not to cry. She always tenses up when she's trying to hold back emotion. It's hard for her because she's emotional by nature. It's not that she's a crier. She's not, but she wears her heart on her sleeve. She's easy to read because she shares her emotions with everyone she meets.
We stand there for a long time before I say anything. "Twenty-one. Can you believe it, Ma? Bright Side would've been twenty-one today."
Ma nods and repeats, "Twenty-one."
I don't know why, but I'm smiling thinking about her. For a moment I'm filled up with light. Bright Side's light. It truly was fucking infectious. "I bet she would've spent today on a wicked, drunken rager."
I feel Ma trembling with laughter against me, and hear her chuckle quietly. It makes my heart happy to hear her laugh.
"I don't know about a rager, honey, but I'm certain she would have made the most of it. That's what Kate always did best. She always knew how to make the most of every day."
I'm still smiling. "She did. Guaranteed she would've done a twenty-first proud. Rager. I'm telling you, it would've been epic."
Ma laughs again. "Maybe you're right."
I release her and pour myself a cup of coffee and stir in a few scoops of sugar before turning back to Ma. "You going to the cemetery today?"
She smiles and nods. "I am. Do you want to come with me?"
I surprise myself when I answer without even thinking about it. "Wouldn't miss it."
After we both shower and dress, Ma drives us to the florist for two bouquets of yellow tulips. Then we stop at the convenience store for four Twix bars. By the time we park in the cemetery lot, Ma's hands are clenching the steering wheel so tight I swear she's going to leave an impression. I've been trying like hell the entire ride to not think about what we're doing. I thought that terror would overtake me. It's strange, because now that we're here, I feel calm. I feel like Bright Side is nearby. I haven't visited since the funeral, because I thought it would destroy me. I thought it would amp up my anger. I thought it would remind me that my life is shit without her. But, right now, in this moment, I feel more whole than I have in months. Leave it to Bright Side to haunt me from the grave—and instead of it being creepy, it's sunshine and rainbows and fucking unicorns.
"You okay, Ma?" I ask.
She nods. She can't talk. I pat her right hand, then step out of the car and gather the flowers, candy bars, and a blanket from Ma's trunk before walking around to open Ma's door. She's still holding onto the steering wheel for dear life. I shift everything I'm carrying to one arm and gently pry her fingers off the wheel. Taking her by the hand, I urge her out of the car and we walk hand-in-hand to Bright Side and Grace. When we reach their small, simple, matching headstones, I release Ma's hand and spread out the blanket. Ma sits down without ever taking her eyes off the headstones. She's not blinking and her eyes are full of fresh tears.
I don't know if Ma's visited Bright Side here, so I ask. "This your first time, Ma?" Bright Side passed in January. It's been nine months.
She shakes her head slowly and pries her eyes away to look at me. It's only then that she smiles. "I visit them every week. I don't stay long ... just stop long enough to make sure my girls are okay."
I have the best mom in the entire world. She loved them like she loves me. Fiercely and with her whole heart. "Well, looks like I really am the asshole then, first time and all."
She smiles at my joke.
I remove the cellophane from both bouquets and lay a bundle on the grass just in front of each headstone. It's warm today, they'll wilt quickly in the heat, but they're fresh and pretty now. Grace loved yellow tulips. And Bright Side loved whatever Grace loved, so I know they'll both be happy. Next I unwrap a Twix bar for each of them and set them next to the flowers in the grass. "Sorry, it's not frozen, Bright Side. I'm winging this visit today and I didn't have time to prep properly, dude. Deal with it," I taunt.
Ma laughs behind me. "She did like them frozen, didn't she? I'd forgotten that."
I shift back onto the blanket and hand Ma her Twix bar while I open mine. "Damn skippy, she did. She was picky as hell when it came to coffee and chocolate. Coffee had to be black and chocolate had to be frozen."
Ma laughs again. And then we eat in silence. The silence is nice.
After we finish our candy, we tell stories about Grace and Bright Side. They were family. We did everything together. There are a million stories to choose from.
The sun's getting high overhead when Ma and I decide it's time to leave. We've had the place to ourselves since we arrived. It's been peaceful and warm, and the sky is a bright ocean of blue. Ma kneels down and lovingly runs her hand over each headstone, her fingers passing over their names. The tenderness and adoration on her face and in her touch is lovely. There's no other way to describe it. It's a reminder of the beautiful things the human heart makes possible. She tells them both to be good. She tells them both she loves them. She tells them both she's hugging them. And then she tells them both good-bye. I have a feeling she does this every week when she visits. It's a ritual. A sincere, loving ritual.
I wait for Ma to walk to the car before I fold up the blanket and squat down in front of Gracie's headstone. I lean down and kiss it. I always used to kiss both of them on the forehead, so this feels symbolic. "Bye, Gracie. Take care of your sister for me, okay, dude? I love you." Then I turn to Bright Side's headstone. I kiss it, too. And I look at her name. Kate Sedgwick. That name holds so much power over me. The best kind of power: inspiring, encouraging, and respectable. It's a name that I've always associated with badass bravery. It's a name that always meant anything was possible. It's a name that was love and goodness and kindness. "Happy birthday, Bright Side. I hope you're in charge of showtime tonight. I'm expecting nothing short of fucking incredible on behalf of your big day, just so you know. No pressure, but you'd better step up and do epic." I pause, not because I feel weird talking to her, but because I don't want to leave. "I miss you, dude. I miss you so much." I stroke her headstone one time and glance at Ma. She's waiting patiently next to the car. She'd wait for hours if that's what it took. "I love you, Bright Side. I'll never stop loving you. Peace out."
When we get home I call Franco. He answers on the second ring. "Cuntcake?" He sounds worried. And questioning. He knows what today is.
"Namaste, dipshidiot. Hey, I need a favor."
"Anything." He's already agreed. That's the great thing about true friends, they're there whenever and wherever you need them.
"I need to get in to see your brother today. Can you make that happen?"
"You want a tat?" He sounds surprised. He's covered in them from the waist up, while my body is a blank canvas. I always thought it would stay that way, but after this morning I know that's not possible.
"Yup."
"You going big? I'll need to let Julian know what kind of time he's looking at. He doesn't usually work Saturdays."
"Small. Two words," I answer. That's all he needs to know.
"I'm on it. Let me give him a call. I'll hit you up in a few minutes, man." He's so excited he hangs up without saying good-bye.
My cell rings less than five minutes later. We skip the usual derogatory name calling and get straight to business. "Well?"
"Pick you up in fifteen minutes. Julian will meet us at the shop."
"Sweet. I'll be waiting."
I head outside for a cigarette before Franco gets here. He won't let me smoke in his truck so I need to get this out of the way. His grin is joy, and excitement, and curiosity, and maybe even a little pride thrown in, when he pulls up to the house. He claps me on the shoulder when I climb in the cab. "I can't believe it. The candyass caves. Thought needles scared the shit out of you?"
I swallow and my stomach roils. I fucking hate needles. "Don't remind me." And then I catch an earful of what's playing on his stereo. "Now shut up so I can listen. This the new album?"
He turns it up. "Yeah. Sunset Sons is the shit, huh?"
"Fucking killer, dude. They can do no wrong." We continue listening while we drive. His brother's tattoo parlor is about twenty minutes away—just long enough to dwell on the situation and work my stomach into knots.
When we pull up to the storefront, my anxiety kicks into high gear. I'm light-headed when we step inside Julian's shop, but I swallow down the raging nausea, determined to make this happen.
Julian, a cool dude and mega-talented artist, greets us. He reaches out a hand to me, and when I take it, he pulls me in and pats me on the back twice for a bro hug. "How's it going, Gus? Long time no see." He's relaxed and in good spirits.
I'm not. I nod. "Good to see you, dude. Listen, I don't mean to be a dick, but can we just get on with this before I revisit breakfast and deposit it all over the floor?"
He and Franco both laugh as he takes a seat and grabs a pencil and paper. "What's it gonna be, big man?" Julian's always called me that. He's a good eight inches shorter than I am. And he's a skinny little fucker. Basically, he's just a smaller version of Franco and a little more baby faced, which makes him appear younger, even though he's the older brother by a couple of years.
Pointing to the inside of my right forearm, I describe the vision I have.
I catch Franco's smile out of the corner of my eye before he punches me in the arm. "I knew it."
I continue. "I want to keep it simple, but kinda badass, you know? And just black, no color."
Julian nods. He's already drawing.
As I watch the letters come to life, I smile. He gets it. It's flowing script, but it's masculine and bold. "That's it, dude. That's it."
Franco's on my ass as I follow Julian to his room and I want to turn around and tell him to heel or punch him in the throat. He's doing it on purpose; I know he is. He's trying to push my buttons because he knows I'm nervous. Strike that. I'm fucking scared shitless.
My eyes pinch closed as Julian cleans and preps my forearm, only opening them after he's applied the stencil drawing. He asks me to take a look and give him the go-ahead before he makes it permanent.
It does look badass, but I only nod. If I open my mouth I'll heave.
When his gun buzzes to life, I close my eyes again.
"Want me to hold your hand?" Franco asks, his voice high-pitched and ridiculous.
"Fuck off, dude. I know you've always wanted a piece of this, but I'm off-limits at the moment."
He laughs and claps his hands in amusement. That's one of my favorite things about Franco, his sense of humor. He always knows when to use it. And it's always spot on. It's always just what I need.
Surprisingly, the tattooing feels more like an irritation than actual physical pain. If I can keep my brain shifted away from the fact that a needle is jabbing and piercing my skin in rapid succession, it's almost bearable. Almost.
"You doing okay?" Julian asks. "You need a break? We're about halfway there."
Keeping my eyes closed, I shake my head. "Just keep going. Stopping makes it worse."
"Well, this is something I never thought I'd see." It's a new voice that's joined our little soiree.
"What the fuck? I thought this was invite only." I challenge from behind closed lids.
Jamie answers, "Franco texted us. We had to come see this with our own eyes to believe it."
When I peek one eye open Jamie and Robbie are both standing in the doorway leaning their heads in since there's not room for another body in this cramped space. "Believe, motherfucker," I mutter.
I'm trying to focus on breathing steadily, but my need for a cigarette is nagging me to the point that it's a distraction I can't ignore. I need that calm. My body needs that calm. My mind needs that calm. That and the fact that the repetitive needle jabbing is no longer irritation and has transformed into pain now. "I need a fucking cigarette," I say, my voice strained. I'm not getting up out of this chair until we're done, but verbally acknowledging the craving seems to quiet it. Makes it bearable.
Julian laughs. "You're doing great, big man. Only a couple more minutes, then I'll go outside and have one with you."
"Deal," I say through gritted teeth.
When the hum of the gun quiets, I know he's done. I open my eyes and my throat seizes when I see her words on my arm.
Her words.
Do epic.
Damn, I loved that girl and everything she stood for.
"That's pretty damn epic, asswipe." It's Franco. And it's sincere.
They're all leaned in to take a closer look.
My skin is angry, raised, and red, but the tattoo is eight inches by two inches of beauty. "You're a goddamn Picasso, Julian. Thanks."
Julian grins. He and Franco have the same huge grin. He looks proud of himself. "Glad you like it, big man."
When I stand up, Jamie claims my vacated spot. "I'm next. Same tattoo." He looks resolved. He has a few tattoos on his back, but his arms are bare.
"Me too." Franco and Robbie chime in together.
I scan the small crowd, my confidants. "Really?"
They're all nodding. Solemnly. Our band. A band of brothers.
Jamie speaks up. "Remember, it was on Kate's list. Do epic. She was talking to Rook. We should all get it. And what better day than her birthday?"
I narrow my eyes at him. "You remembered today was her birthday?"
He nods. "Of course." Jamie is the most innocent of all of us. He's just ... good. Of course he remembered.
They're all nodding again. They all remembered. I look at Julian. "You have plans? Can you make this happen? I'll pay for all of them. Double, since it's your day off."
"Let's go have a cigarette and then we'll do this."
Julian makes it happen. We all walk out with matching tattoos. Though Franco's is smaller, on his wrist where his sleeve ends, because blank real estate was in short supply.
Outside on the sidewalk, I stop in my tracks. The sun is setting. It's like fire in the sky.
Bright.
Brilliant.
Orange.
The four guys stand with me in awed silence. They know how much Bright Side loved to watch the sunset.
My smile grows as the sun makes its final descent and plunges us into darkness. Bright Side was definitely in charge tonight.
"That's my girl."