My swollen knuckles are killing me, and I relax the grip on the tattoo gun. I spent the last five days pummeling the shit out of my punching bag.

I’d canceled all my appointments on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. It’s Friday today, and I figured I could use the distraction of working.

It’s the end of the day. There have been a few slips and mistakes but nothing I couldn’t cover up. Plus I haven’t exactly been gentle with the needle. There’s some satisfaction making grown men wince with pain.

“You’re done for today. You’ll have to make another appointment to finish off this spider,” I tell the burly guy in my chair.

“I thought you said it would be done today.”

“Look at this,” I say, holding up my battered right hand.

“Fuck, man. You been fighting?”

“Only myself.”

“Idiot.”

“Pretty much. Hey, Ryan, can you tell this guy about aftercare for what he’s had done today and book him in to get the rest done.”

“Sure, man,” Ryan says.

I stand and move through the door to our private staff area. There’s still some coffee in the pot and I pour it into my mug from this morning.

It’s lukewarm and bitter, but I chuck it down my throat anyway.

Both of my hands are stiff and painful. While I’ve been punching, I’ve been thinking of my left hand as the pain of Eloise and my right hand as the pain of my mother.

But I realized there’s only one root cause of all the pain, and that’s Eloise’s mother, Miranda.

It doesn’t seem to matter that it’s been fifteen years, my mom’s death seems to bubble along just under my surface. And seeing Eloise’s parents brought it bursting through the barrier. Now it seems like her death is fresh all over again.

It was stupid to go there and see them. I thought I could do it for Eloise. I wanted to do anything for Eloise, but the pain was too raw. And now I have the raw pain of losing Eloise on top of it.

No one has ever made me feel the way she does, and I know no one else will ever make me feel that way. When I’m with her, the pain of life fades into the background.

“Hey, where are you going? You can’t go back there,” Ryan shouts.

Eloise’s mother storms into the staff area. Her hair is half tied back and her clothes are disheveled.

“Gabe, I’m so glad I finally found you. We need to talk,” Miranda says.

“No, we don’t. Get the fuck out,” I say, slamming my mug onto the counter.

“For Eloise’s sake.”

“The best thing for Eloise is a clean break.”

“No, it isn’t, she’s been a wreck all week. She hasn’t even been able to leave my house.”

“Good, she needs her family.” I turn my back on her, wanting her to leave.

“What she needs is you.”

My throat tightens as I picture how upset Eloise was when I left her. Doing that to her crushed me. The last thing I want is to cause Eloise any pain. But I had no choice.

“Too bad she has you for a mother, now you’re responsible for causing us both a lot of pain.” I turn back to her, my eyes fierce.

“I’ll never forgive myself for missing your mother’s cervical cancer.”

“Good, I’ll never forgive you either,” I say, my voice harsh.

“She wasn’t just another patient, you know.”

“I know. She was my mom.”

“And she was a mother with two young kids in each of my own children’s classes. When you and Eloise were small, we used to help out on the PTA together. We were friends.” Miranda swallows and continues. “Losing her broke my heart.”

“Then you should’ve caught the cancer.”

“She came in complaining about back pain. When someone comes in with back pain your brain doesn’t exactly jump to a cervical cancer diagnosis.”

I close my eyes and remember my mom’s smile.

“She had other symptoms,” I say flatly.

“But she didn’t tell me about them right away. She was too embarrassed to talk about the symptoms that might’ve saved her life. Trust me, when I did start to suspect something else, I had a hard enough time convincing her to get a Pap smear.” Her eyes and voice plead with me, but all I feel is rage.

“Stop blaming her,” I say, my teeth gritted.

“I’m not,” she says, shaking her head. “I’ve spun this around over and over in my head, and I realized that some situations are simply tragic and we have to accept that.”

“I don’t have to accept a damned thing.” My hand whacks against the cupboards, sending a shot of pain through my swollen hand.

“You do if you want to find happiness. Because if Eloise really does make you feel the way you make her feel, you owe it to your mother to embrace that. She and your father were so much in love, and she’d want you to have the same thing. I know she would.” She wipes a stray tear from her eye.

I don’t say anything as I digest her words. I hadn’t considered what my mom would want, but I’m sure she’d want me to have what she had before everything fell apart.

“Leave.” I spit the word at her.

“Can I show you something first?” she asks, yanking down the collar of her shirt.

A small tattoo of a rose sits on top of her heart. I’m shocked. She definitely doesn’t seem like the type of woman to have a tattoo on her breast. Getting it must’ve been an extreme action for her.

“I will never forget her, and here’s your proof. You don’t have to like me or care about me, or even hate me, but please don’t let the pain of this mistake I made so long ago carry on to my child.”

“It’s not my fault, it’s yours,” I say, my voice softening.

“I’ve done everything I can to ease the pain over losing Rose the way we did. I even donated half my income that year to the trust fund I set up, and convinced most of the other parents at school to make donations.”

“What are you talking about? What trust fund?”

“The one for you and your sister that you each got when you turned twenty-five.”

“You set that up? I thought that was insurance.”

“Insurance? No, didn’t they tell you?”

“My father hasn’t been in my life for a hell of a long time. My aunt didn’t know what it was. She said it must be insurance.”

“And the lawyers? Forget it, it doesn’t matter. What matters is you and Eloise. You both deserve each other, you both want each other. And both of your mothers want you to have each other, and to be happy together.”

She reaches out her hand to me, clasps my hand for a brief moment. I refuse to meet her eyes, and she turns and hurries out of the room.

My mind is racing. The trust fund was how I was able to buy Incredible Ink. Miranda seems genuine. And the rose tattoo proves what she’s saying.

But does it matter how sorry she is? If Eloise and I were together, I’d have to see Miranda and I can’t see how I could ever do that.

How could I tie myself to the doctor who missed my mother’s cancer diagnosis? For the rest of my life I’d have to have her in my life.

But I love Eloise.

I don’t know what to think.