Mia & Joseph| (#Wattys2017)

« chapter twenty-seven »

It was different than I imagined it being—the tattoo parlor. It was bigger for sure. The walls were lined with millions of different tattoos. Some were pictures I assumed the artists have done and others were just drawings, a mere sample.

"You coming?" Derek asks. I turn around to see him and the artist standing. I only nod, not sure where we were going.

I follow them behind a crimson curtain, entering a corridor with many other curtains. The sound of humming needles filled this dimly light place. We walk to end of the hallway and the artist slides open a purple curtain, letting Derek and I enter first. He took a seat in the laid back chair.

I stood, observing one of the many walls covered in tattoos. There was a couple I thought looked cool. Many of them were big, so big the tattoo took up an entire forearm, or someone's entire thigh. If I ever got a tattoo, I think to myself, it'd be something small and simple. I couldn't help but imagine what these big portraits meant or represented. For someone to get an entire sleeve dedicated to pictures, it had to tell a story. If I ever got a tattoo, I think to myself, it'd mean something to me.

The tattoo artist comes in and sits a worn down chair next to the one Derek was sitting in. Before I know it, the sound of the buzzing needle fills the little room.

"Schools almost over." I hear Derek say.

I turn to him with my arms folded across my chest. "Yeah," I nod, "a little scary don't you think?"

He shakes his head, careful not to move too much with a needle repeatedly hitting his shoulder. "I'm over it." He says.

I squint my eyes at him. I had been thinking about the topic of life-after-school lately. "Really?" I question and he nods. "For the last twelve years we've woken up at the crack of dawn with a purpose—with something to do with ourselves. Now we aren't obligated to do anything. What are you gonna do with an extra eight hours on your hands?"

He lifts up his left shoulder—the one not getting tattooed—and shrugs. "I'm just grateful to have an extra eight hours."

I roll my eyes, "Are you going to college or an university?"

"I don't know yet. I have no idea what I would do." His words reminded me of mine to my parents a month ago. "Are you?" He asks in return and for the first time I had an answer my parents would like.

"I think I am." I answer. "I started applying to some colleges a couple days ago."

His eyes widened as if he was surprised by my answer. "What are you going to major in? I can't even think of something to guess." He humors.

"Are you saying I'm boring?" I couldn't help but smile in amusement.

"I'm saying you're very unreadable."

"I'm going to study something that has to do with photography." I finally answer his question. My mind instantly travels to the thought of Joseph, and that if he was study something, it's probably be something along the lines of writing.

"Maybe you can jumpstart my modeling career." He jokes and I burst out laughing.

Giving him a smile, I reply, "yeah, maybe" half-heartedly.

We fall into silence, the buzzing of the needle taking over our ears once again. I turn back to the wall, overlooking all the tattoos once more. 

"You see one that you like?" I hear Derek ask from his seat. I don't turn to look at him to answer. I only shake my head, deciding I wouldn't get any of these tattooed anywhere on my body. "Are you going to get one?" He lightly chuckles. Before I answer this time, something catches my eye.

I point to the little doodle on pure white paper, "This one. I think I'm going to get this one."

The rest of the weekend had came and gone. My mom was gone by Sunday and the house had become exceptionally quiet. I hadn't seen much of my dad, which was expected.

I had told the two what I had told Derek Friday night at the tattoo parlor and they were surprised and excited. I didn't mention the tattoo resting on my inner forearm, of course. I had managed to wear shirts that covered it.

With the elective classes changed after we came back from spring break, I found myself in my usual psychology class with Jess and Rory. They sat on either side of me, and surprisedly didn't gossip the entire time. I had this class for the majority of the year and had grown to love it and I could tell they did too.

"Today," the psychology teacher Ms. Leroy began, "is going to be a journal day."—days when we spent the entire class period writing about a given topic—"I want you to about what you look for in a significant other."

"Physical or character wise?" A kid pipes up from the other side of the class room

"Both!" She looks towards the kid and smiles. "We as humans seek out companions for company and I sometimes think we choose people based on a couple things. Theres the media—we grow up watching people on tv who all seem to have the same physical features and we grow up falling in love with people who look just the same. We're listening to what we've heard our parents say and seeing what type of people are shown to us—whether it's by race or gender—and we form a mindset based on that. We form opinions like the ones before us and create bias—sometimes not on experience but based on what we've received through the media and/ or the experiences of others.  From a young age we are shown stereotypes and sometimes we abide by them or we accumulate our own opinions based on what we're told.

"I like this topic because there's no wrong answer. You like what you like. I just find it interesting how similar and different your answers are going to be based on upbringing and experiences." She pauses, looking straight ahead. The class is silent, taking in what she has said, all of our eyes on her. She lets out a satisfied sigh, turns on her heel, and goes to sit behind her desk. Once she says no more and we hear the clicking of her computer keyboard, we know that our cue to begin working.

I sit back in my desk chair, a little stumped by the topic—as simple as it was, I look over towards Rory, pencil scribbling across the paper quickly. Looking over to Jess, I see she's sat back in her chair like me. I look at her paper and many words filled the lines.

"You're done?" I gawk. She nods, chuckling slightly. "Can I read it?" I ask, and once she nods, I quickly take her journal. I read it over, slowly getting an idea of what we were supposed to be writing down. Setting her journal back on her desk, I turn towards Rory. She was still writing away

I turn back to the paper, looking the blank lines and that's when it clicked. Though epiphany scared me to my very soul, I knew what I looked for in a significant other. One word, six letters—it was as simple and just as complicated as that.

Everyday as the week continued to pass, I didn't talk to Joseph. Every night as the days passed, I went on a run, trying to oppress the feelings that had recently surfaced. And as everyday went by, my mind went back to the days before seeing how obvious these feelings should of been.