Act Normal
1412 Words
Honor
I look at my phone for the hundredth time. I know Greg is in court, and I can't help but wonder how it is going. I had to stop myself from texting him before court started to give him an encouraging word or two, because that’s just me. Luckily, I did stop myself, especially when his words, ‘she texts all the damn time,’ floated through my head.
When we showed up at Josh’s shop, he was going through inventory. He was surprised to see us until he saw my face. I must have been puffy from my crying jag.
“Hey, babe, what happened?”
I tell him everything. His face goes stone-cold, and his eyes turn hard.
“I’ll f*****g kick his ass.”
“Down, caveman, I have dibs,” CeeCee said.
I asked Josh the same thing that I asked CeeCee. Was I too much? Did he think I smothered Greg with my notes, cooking, and texts?
“No. Absolutely not. If I had a dude or chick that cared for me as much as you care for Greg, I’d be in f*****g heaven, knowing someone thought about me.”
I thanked him for his reassurance.
We ordered Chinese. Josh didn’t have any clients today because it was his inventory day of the month.
“When are you going to let me ink your skin? CeeCee lets me.”
CeeCee nodded and showed off her arm with the Pride flag on it, and under that a cute baby-looking unicorn that winked.
“I don’t know, Greg doesn’t like tattoos on women. And besides, I don’t really know what to get.”
“Since when are we letting Greg dictate what can happen with your body? And I’ll design something especially for you. It’ll be a one-of-a-kind piece that I’ll put right here, on your thick, beautiful thigh,” he said, putting his big hand on my thigh.
“You hitting on me?” I asked with a smirk.
“If I knew you were into me, I would. But no, you have gorgeous skin, and your body is a blank canvas that I am itching to defile with my tattoo gun.”
“You make it sound so naughty,” I said.
“Baby, you have no idea how naughty I can get with a tattoo gun.”
“Ugh, stop it, white boy, you’re turning me on,” CeeCee said, and we all laughed. “Seriously, though, girl, you should let him. He’s a genius when it comes to tattooing. Just look around the shop. This is all his work.”
She was right. Josh was a true artist. His work was phenomenal. I especially liked the one of a heart pierced by a dagger, blood dripping into a puddle. That’s how I felt. It resonated with me.
“Okay, design something for me that depicts me. But I’m not guaranteeing I will tattoo it on my body.”
“You got it, baby cakes,” Josh said. I rolled my eyes. He calls both CeeCee and me baby cakes when he’s really happy.
An hour later, Josh knocked my socks off with a sketched picture of two chef’s knives that cross at the tip and have curved handles to make a heart. Then, in the reflection of the knives, is a paintbrush dragging paint in an S pattern from one knife to the other. Then, three paint-splatter shapes pool at the tips of the knives.
“What are your favorite colors?” he asks.
“Bright red, baby blue, and lavender.”
“Okay, I can do the S-shaped paint mark that starts off bright red and fades into blue to lavender. Then the paint splotches will be each color. What do you think?”
“I f*****g love it. And that would go right on top of my thigh?”
“Yeah, whenever you’re ready, we can do this. I’ll charge you half price. You get that friends-and-family discount. It’s still three hundred, though.”
“Yeah, let me think about it, and I’ll get back to you.”
My phone buzzes. I look at it, and it’s a text from Greg. I didn’t open it, but I read the preview, and it was in all caps.
Babe: I WON
I wanted to text so badly, congratulations, I’m so proud of you.
“He won,” I said.
“That’s awesome. How are you going to respond?” CeeCee asks.
“I don’t know. Should I even respond?”
“Have you decided to confront him about the butt dial you overheard?”
“No, I’m not ready.”
“Then you'd better act like things are normal. Or as normal as you can stand,” she says.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
I text back a thumbs-up emoji with fireworks, then say, "Congratulations."
Babe: Let’s celebrate
I have to work tonight
Babe: Oh ok, I’ll be out with the group then. I’ll see you later tonight. I love you. This means great things for us.
I just sent the excited face emoji.
“No, I love you back?” Josh asked. I didn’t realize he was reading over my shoulder.
“Too hurt to say it, to be honest.”
“Don’t blame you.” He puts an arm over my shoulder and gives me a side hug.
A couple of hours later, I’m welcoming the bachelorette party in my studio, and I push my drama aside and focus on the clients. I closed the blackout curtains on the front window of my store and told the ladies to strip to whatever they were comfortable with. They were the ones who picked the body paint theme, so I told them all to wear thongs.
We had a blast. Everything came out wonderfully. They didn’t mind that I took pictures for my website, and by the time I said goodbye to the last drunk girl, I was exhausted. I didn’t get much sleep last night, my emotions were all over the place, and right now, I just don’t want to go home. I have a couch here in the studio, and I might just crash here.
I clean up all the paint, water cups, and paper plates. I put the paint rags in the sink before I scrub them clean. I washed all the brushes that were used and put away the paint tubes.
It’s midnight by the time I’m done, and I have decided to crash here. I checked my phone and saw two texts from Greg. One was a picture of him holding up a shot, Lucy, Jerry, and Mark next to him. I was happy for him, truly. This was what he'd been working so hard for. The second pic had my cheeks warming. It was a d**k pick with the caption "He misses you." If this were a couple of days ago, I would have said f**k it and rushed home to hop on that d**k, but now I just scoff.
“You miss the girl that’s too much? Too mommish, too loud? Yeah, right,” I mumble out loud.
Drank too much at this party, crashing at the studio.
That’s it. I don’t say I love you, no heart eyes emoji or kissy lips. He must have passed out because he hadn't read it by the time I turned the lights off and made sure everything was secure. My hair was going to look like s**t in the morning. I didn’t have a silk bonnet with me, no silk pillow case. Hell, I didn’t even have a blanket. I had changed from my attitude outfit into a comfy pair of flowy pants and a T-shirt that had paint splattered on it. I didn’t need a blanket anyway. This was Florida in the springtime.
I lay awake for a long time thinking about how I’m going to do things. I think I’ll just quietly fade away. I'm just giving him the space he wants. Besides, he works so much, I doubt he’ll even notice. Tears fell from my eyes. This will be the last night I cry for what I’m walking away from. Three years of my life were wasted on a man who didn’t appreciate the kind of woman he had. I hope you like the space I’m about to give you, Gregory Anders. By the time you realize what you have lost, it’ll be too late for you.
- Writer
