May. 14th, 2022

drippedonpaper: (Default)
Prompt: Include a character who has very poor memory and needs to remove a tattoo right away.
Details to lead into story: Glue and a phone call at 3am.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(musical interlude, instrumental version of the beginning of "I Just Called to Say I Love You")

Crash!

Crap. While reaching for the phone, something fell. I swiped up:

"Hello?" I whisper. Why am I so hoarse?

"Did you get the glue? We need it now. It's going to be impossible without glue!" the voice is urgent and somehow fully awake.

"I...well..I"

(dial tone)

"What the heck?" I whisper and shake my head. I know something is broken on the floor, but refuse to look. I grab my phone again. 3am. Who needs glue at 3am?

No clue about the glue.

Hey, that rhymed. Maybe a glue bottle, I mean that would be original right? A glue bottle tramp stamp. Glue is used to fix things so it kind of works, right?

I grab my phone to message myself and that's the last thing I remember.

```````````````````

"Mom, Mom, it fell apart!"

The voice is somehow right in my ear. I open my eyes and "Oh my gosh, Bobby, don't...give me space especially when I've been asleep." Bobby, age 7, looks adorable in his Superman PJs. All of his hair is sticking up, but who cares? Time enough to deal with that right.

But he's holding..
"What that's Bobby?"

"My project. You said it would be safer in your room, but look at it!!" The popsicle sticks look like a tornado turned them into pick up sticks so they would fit back into a game canister better. "It's due TODAY! My teacher will kill me! And if I fail second grade, I'll never be an astronaut or go the moon. If I never get to walk on another planet, I'll just be a normal person. And I don't know how to be normal, Mom! There's no way!!"

He plopped the remains on my bedspread.

"Hey, buddy, just a minute. We need all those pieces. Give me a second."

I try to slide out carefully. I know how easy it can be to set him off in the morning. When I stumble to the kitchen, I see a cutting board I left on the table. Is that cheese on the knife? What the heck, Patty? But no matter, I grab the cutting board and pad back to my room.

"Look, just put it on here." I lay the board next to the popsicle sticks, and start piling.

"But there's no time. The bus is coming!" Bobby runs his finger over his head, and his hair gets wilder. "No time!"

"Hey, hey.." I gently grab his wrists, and say, "Look at me." He hasn't cried yet, but his eyes are shining. Meltdown time, great!

"You go get some clothes on, and grab your backpack. I'll do a fix it job."

He runs off towards his room.

Great...glue right? Where is the glue? I fast trot the cutting board to the kitchen table, and check the school supply door near the back door.

"Bingo!" I start redoing all of last night's work, adding a stick or two from the open box on the table. "This has to work," I mumble around a popsicle stick.

Somehow, it finally looks approximately cabin-like.

"But what if it breaks on the bus?" Bobby runs in, shoe laces trailing.

"I'm putting it in here," I say, sliding it carefully into a tupperware and popping the lid on. "All safe. Now let's go!"

Another walk of shame to the bus stop. I try to smooth my hair with my hands. I'm glad I wore sweats to bed.

"Why hi! Up early, aren't you?"

Mrs...who was she again? I mean, it's the lady who...anyways, I hate to ask her name again. She's always there. I often wonder if she sleeps in her front garden or is just always watching from the window to dash out whenever someone is walking by. Great. I wonder if my wonderful morning is about to provoke a comment-fest on Next Door. I smooth my sweatshirt down in the back.

"Just getting Bobby to the bus," I wave, nod and walk purposeful.

We reach the stop.

"I gotta run, Buddy, I've got work." I try to smooth Bobby's hair down one more time. I want to hug him, but he established the bus stop as a strict "no hug" zone at the end of last year.

"Ok, Bye, Mom!" He throws over his shoulder as he races over to Will.

I turn the other way. Maybe if I jog, I can get around the block quick and avoid Mrs...Whatever. Mrs. Bobble Head if what I want to call her, but surely that isn't her name. She does bob though, up and down over her flowers...crap! Somehow I just jogged past my own driveway.

I jog backwards, trying to act purposeful. People do that, right? If they are trying for marathons or something.

`````````````````````

The drive to work is uneventful. I think it was anyways. Let's just say I got there. I walk in, grab my time card.

"Did you cancel the appointment?" Shelley looks confused

"What appointment? Oh crap! Um, I need to run!" I back out. That was today?! I blame the log cabin as I sprint for the car. I buckle and start the car in a super coordinated motion which makes the phone fumble in the night seem like another person entirely.

I reverse the car. Should I call? No, just go right? It would take too long to look up their number.

``````````````````````

I walk in, out of breath.

"I wondered if you were coming. I thought you might have chickened out." Johnny chuckled. "This shouldn't hurt too bad."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I don't know where my mind is lately. We needed glue and then it broke and Mrs. Bobble Head.." my words tumble out like acrobats released from a clown car.

"Whoa. It should be ok. Did you decide? Because I need to know."

"Um... I was thinking glue?" Wasn't I? I can't remember. This was a big decision. Surely...

"Glue? No, girl, that would suck worse that Princess Tiger Lily back here."

I take off my work blazer and lie down, face first on the table. The cool breeze of the air conditioner is chilling, as Johnny uncovers a past, which honestly needed to be buried and right quick. Why had I ever agreed to put a Native American princess on my spine? Gosh the things I was willing to do for Rob. Why, why? Or course, at the time I'd never even hear the phrase "cultural appropriation." You live, you learn, and my gosh, you pay. That seems to be part of every lesson.

"Listen, Patty. Of all the things you suggested last time, I'm thinking the bear cub"

A bear cub, did I suggest that? I don't know. I try to visualize my back, but Bobby in his Superman PJs comes to mind. Bobby. You know, I guess that works. I am raising a cub.

"Sure. You know, that works. It has to be better than good ole' Tiger Lily."

"Are you sure this time? Because it's going to be like a silhouette, but then all filled in. This one won't be easy to change. I want you to be sure..."

"Bear cub. I'm sure. Let's down this."

I breathe deep. A bear. Why not? Kind of suits my wild life. And if some future guy comes along, I guess he'll have to love me anyways. Bears are pretty neutral, right?

I think about it, as Johnny gets to work. The noise of the machine reminds me of a fan. Steady white noise. Oh well. It should look ok. I trusted Johnny. And if I ever meet someone ready to be part of my life, I'm sure my feisty boy will be a bigger hurdle than any tattoo. Anyone who would get serious about a single mom isn't the type would have a problem with a bear stamped right above her butt.

I sigh. The feelings of the needles wasn't bad at all. This was the best break I had had in a long time. Almost as good as the dentist. Where else can you lie back and no have to be running around helping anyone.

It might end up a good day after all.

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