Jay stood before the mirror, tightening and smoothing the bandages over his chest in an attempt to hide his clump of amaranth. Jessica helped him tuck the forget-me-nots in his hair under his favorite hat. She reassured him that he looked perfectly normal and told him to stop fussing. Despite his protests, today he would celebrate being the only worker in the shop to have been there from opening to present date. Jay had suggested a simple party, a cake or something - nothing too special. It wasn't that big of a deal. But his co-workers had a different idea. What better way to celebrate Jay's seniority than to get a tattoo that he could never remove and risk discovery of his condition?
The tattoo shop next door had only been open for a few months but it seemed to be doing well. Jay oftene wondered about the shop's name, "Operator Ink", and it's strange logo. Just a plain, chalky circle with an "X" through the middle. Two men worked there and lived in an apartment above the shop. He would often see one of them leaning on the balcony railing around lunchtime with a cigarette in one hand and an energy drink in the other. His flatmate, the one with the tan hooded sweatshirt, would take his place when he finished. It was their way of making sure someone was always at the counter.
Today was a slow day for both shops. It was a foggy, wet Wednesday afternoon. The whole town seemed to be hiding from the rain. Jay waited until one of the men was on lunch break to duck inside. The less people he had to deal with, the better. The shop smelled of cigarette smoke and incense. Clouds of smoke drifted around like lost ghosts beneath the moody lighting fixtures. Art, vinyl records, and faded band t-shirts littered the brick walls. The mess was broken up only by the occasional mirror in front of each station.
"H-Hello?"
The old wood floor creaked beneath his feet as Jay entered the shop. The man at the front counter looked up from the book he was reading and stubbed his cigarette out into the ashtray beside the register. He sat up straight and looked at him with a forced smile.
"Welcome to Operator Ink." He recited. "I'm Tim. What can I do for you?"
"Um, I'm here for a tattoo."
"Do you know what you want?"
"Kinda?"
The man motioned for Jay to follow as he lead him over to a cluttered work station. The faded leather chair complained under his weight. Tim glared at it on his way past.
"That thing is ancient. One day it's going to break and knowing my luck it'll be when I'm in the middle of a tattoo."
A nervous laugh stumbled out of Jay. He tried not to obsess over the thought of that happening now, to him.
"So, what kind of tattoo are you looking for?"
"A flower." Jay blurted. He expected Tim to give him a strange look or laugh, but he didn't.
"Nice. You work at the shop next door, right? Did you want something like the rose on your logo or are you looking for something with a specific meaning?"
"It's supposed to be a sort of milestone marker. I guess it should mean something."
"I have a book about symbolism somewhere around here. We can look at that for ideas if you want."
"Sounds good."
After ten minutes of pawing through the glossy pages of a book about new-age symbolism, Jay had settled on hydrangeas. According to the book they symbolized gratefulness and pride. And he was both grateful and proud of his six years of service to the shop. They had a brief discussion about where the tattoo was going to be, deciding at last upon the right shoulder. Jay had plucked out the vines and leaves from his shoulders just yesterday, so he was certain there would be no risk. Tim was patient in explaining the process of what he was about to do. He offered reassurance about the pain and explained what would he would need to do to take care of the tattoo to prevent problems later.
"So, you know I work next door?" Jay stared straight ahead, trying to drown out the hum of the needle with idle chatter.
"You walk across the street to the bakery every day and get a bagel for lunch."
"Oh."
"I see you from the balcony." Something seemed to dawn on Tim and he stuttered out an apology. "I'm not stalking you, there's just not much to look at when I take my lunch break."
"No, it's fine, I just didn't ever consider that someone might be looking. I dunno, it's kind of surreal, isn't it? To think that someone's looking in those little inbetween moments?"
The men fell into an awkward silence that didn't break until the door connecting the apartment above to the shop below swung open. It was the man with the hoodie. When he noticed Jay he put on a friendly face and waved. Jay mumbled a short hello and forced a nervous smile. Tim glanced up from his work.
"What's up, Brian?"
"Nothing. Just back from lunch. Whatcha gettin'?"
"Celebratory hydrangea." Tim said flatly. Brian laughed, peering over Tim's shoulder to get a better look.
"You're the guy that works next door, right? What's the celebration?"
"Well, it's the 6th year anniversary of the shop being open. Since I've been there from opening to present day, my friend convinced me to get a tattoo." Jay explained. He was glad to have something other than the stinging of the needle to focus on.
"Oh dude, we did that for the first year birthday of this shop!" Brian pulled his sleeve up to reveal a stylized tattoo of a frowning face done in a red stitching pattern. "Tim did mine and I did his."
Tim paused to pull the collar of his shirt down and show off his tattoo. It looked like a doll-faced mask of some sort. Thick black markings surrounded the oversized eye sockets and laid daintily on the lips.
"Hey, maybe we should do another one for our seventh year shop birthday next month." Brian called over his shoulder as he made his way towards the counter. "Eh?"
"Maybe." Tim shrugged and resumed working.
Jay felt uncharacteristically comfortable sitting there next to this familiar stranger. The three of them made small talk about regular customers and local happenings. Brian changed the incense to something that smelled a lot like honey and lilacs, which got them talking about flowers. As it turned out, Brian kept a small rooftop herb garden (which Tim regularly raided for use in his home cooking). It was the first time in a long time Jay had felt at home. It was the first time in his life that he had felt like a normal human being.
Jay handed over his payment while Tim went over the aftercare process again. He couldn't help but notice the sleeve of tattoos adorning Tim's arm as he reached out to accept the bills. Instead of the usual dragons or stylized tribal patterns, Tim's tattoos seemed much more personally relevant. Broken mirrors and spilled pills, chalky-looking symbols resembling the shop logo, oddly jagged depictions of forest trees...It wasn't until Tim pulled his sleeve down and cleared his throat uncomfortably that Jay realized he'd been staring instead of actually handing him the money. He flushed bright red and hurriedly handed it over. Tim was kind enough not to mention it.
"Thank you, by the way." Jay offered, brekaing the awkward silence. "You did a really great job. If I ever want to get another one, I'll definitely come back here."
"Oh, you're welcome." Tim looked up from the register, surprise melting into laughter. "I don't think anyone has actually thanked me just for doing my job."
"Really? I mean, it doesn't seem like an easy thing to do. You put a lot of effort into making art on human skin, you should really be thanked for that."
"I appreciate that." Tim was quiet. He seemed lost in thought for a moment. "Well. Make sure you keep that clean while it heals. See you around?"
"Y-Yeah."
"Take care."
"You too."
Jay stepped out into the sunny street. The rain had cleared up, leaving the air thick and damp and smelling of wet earth. The stinging on his shoulder wasn't so bad and the whole ordeal hadn't been nearly as awkward as he'd thought. Maybe he'd get something other than a bagel for lunch tomorrow. He wondered if Tim would notice.