Wallflower Ink

Chapter 22

· Merri ·

I spent most of the day with Jace and Katie, and by the time I left the tattoo parlor I felt ready to confront my mom. I park on the familiar street, walk up the familiar sidewalk, climb the familiar steps--but none of it feels familiar anymore. Though nothing about the place has changed since I was a child, I have. The way I view everything has, including how I see this remarkable family who has been so good to me for so many years.

They are a gift I've never deserved.

As I give the perfunctory knock before opening the door and step inside, an uncomfortable feeling wells up inside me. It isn't the normal sadness I carry around with me these days, it is something more. It hints at a finality I'm no longer sure I'm ready to accept.

Today I need to make amends with Mamma Sophie, if I can. I can't bear the thought of my mother's anger, or her disappointment. Though I don't know if I can erase either, I know that today I have to begin trying.

"Mamma? Are you home?"

"In the kitchen," she calls back.

I make my way through the house, entering the kitchen without a sound. Sophie is sitting at the table; a book of crosswords rests in front of her with a glass of sweet tea beside it, beads of sweat clinging to its sides. She looks up at me, and though her smile says she's happy to see me there is something else in her eyes that immediately makes me wary.

"Hi, mamma," I say softly as I pull out a chair and sit down."Just wanted to stop by to see you."

"And I'm glad that you did."

Though I believe that's true, something about the way my mom is looking at me tells me she is equally unsettled by my visit. She has never looked at me that way before, as if she suspects me of something terrible and has been thinking about how to confront me with it.

I recognize that look from the only time either of my brother's had ever gotten into any real trouble. I had been little then, and I remember Mom and Pop yelling at Byron. I had hidden in my room until everything had quieted back down, hoping their anger wouldn't turn next on me.

It hadn't, but there had been a cold silence surrounding the dinner table that evening. I never found out exactly what my brother had done, having never felt it was my place to ask. But I remember that look in my mother's eyes. It is the same look she wears now.

"I think you have some explaining to do, young lady," Sophie finally says, her mouth pulling into a frown.

"What's wrong, mamma?" I ask, my voice as small as if I am still that seven year old who had been so afraid of the new family I'd been sent to.

"What's wrong?" she asks, leaning across the table and folding her hands on top of it. "Now, isn't that the million dollar question?"

I swallow hard and nod my head.

"First off," she begins, leaning back in her chair and eyeing me intently, "I want you to explain to me why that ... man, is living in your house."

The older woman's eyes don't move from mine, only pierce my gaze with one that is both smoldering and icy.

"He ..." I clear my throat. Though Sophie already knows the answer, she is expecting me to say the words aloud. "Jace is a tattoo artist I hired to do a job for me."