In Memoriam

~{x}~

Memorial tattoos were a rather common request for a tattoo artist to get commissioned for. Many people commemorated the memories of loved ones who had passed on though art. It gave them a way to carry a person's memory with them wherever they went, and also a way to start conversations with family members that would otherwise be difficult to begin. Christine herself knew from both observation and firsthand that when a person looks at a grave marker a sense of sadness befalls them, seeing a cold slab of stone as all their mother or son has been reduced to. But when a person passes a mirror and sees the smiling face of their childhood dog or long lost baby looking back at them, it gives them a sense of peace. The tattoos capture a personality, a photograph of who someone was. It was much more personal.

Maybe that was why Christine loved to do them. They really made her feel as though she were making a difference in someone's life. People would come to her crying, telling her heartbreaking stories of loss and hurt, but in the end they would see the result of her work and light up right before her eyes.

She had a consultation with a new client in just a half hour, and busied herself setting up her workstation. The woman had already called ahead to give a general idea of what she wanted to Meg, who handled payments and appointments up at the front desk, and those notes had been passed on to her. The plan was to do a large shoulder piece of a flower with her mother's name and date of birth inscribed alongside two of the petals. Though typical of Meg, she'd forgotten to ask what sort of flower the woman had in mind. So instead of sketching up possible drafts as the minutes passed by Christine simply leaned back in her chair, foot up on her desk and sketchbook in her lap, patiently waiting for her client to arrive.

As the hour tolled on she started sketching the outline of a stalk of lavender, followed by that of a rose and finally a chrysanthemum. Those were the most typical flowers her clients asked for, and so she could practically do them blindfolded after three years in the business. She had several designs of them available for flash work, which she did at least five a week of. For in a touristic town like Bradbury, flash tattoos were rather popular, since many people decided on small tattoos as a momentum of vacations. And that was just fine by her. It was the majority of her income after all, and she loved to hear the many fascinating stories that travelers had to offer.

Though why people vacationed in this city she would never understand. It was as loud as it was violent, and often dangerous to wander around in once the night fell. Drug dealers were known to shoot people who so much as glanced at them sideways, and if you happened down the wrong alleyway by accident you were sure to be jumped for whatever valuables you kept in your bag.

Because of their sky high crime rate, Christine herself carried pepper spray on her hip and a taser in her back pocket at all times, even though she only lived about fifteen minutes away from work. It was her belief that one could never be too safe.

Maybe it was the music of the city that continued to draw people in. That was what had brought her own family here after all. She'd been only eight years old when her family had relocated themselves from Maine to Virginia, her father having been accepted into the state renowned Symphony Orchestra. A part of her could still remember Maine. That crisp, cool weather and the magical snowy winters. Virginia was much different. It was humid year round, and being on the border of the Northern and Southern states there was no clear cultural standpoint. Half of her clients were smooth talking city folk, driving slick black cars and rocking high heels, while the other half were country folk who merely came into the city for their ink, only to quickly return to their sanctuaries of solitude outside the urban limits as fast as they possibly could.

Christine felt Meg hovering over her shoulder, staring down at her notebook scribbles.

"Sorry I forgot to ask which one she wanted," she said offhandedly, not sounding the least bit apologetic. She pointed to the rose on the sketchpad. "Do you think you could teach me how to draw these sometime? They don't seem difficult. I just can't seem to get the hang of them though."

Christine smiled up at Meg. The daughter of a tattoo artist, Meg Giry had been trying all her life to gather up the skills needed to follow in her mother's footsteps. But unfortunately it seemed as though she hadn't been born with a single artistic bone in her entire body. She'd doodle all day long up at her desk, but nothing she sketched would ever look above that of a sixth grader's work. Bless her heart though, she still tried. She was always striving to do better, always taking classes at the local community college and city art club. Christine was positive that one day Meg would discover some sort of an inner skill set, and until then she was more than happy to help out however she could.

"They aren't too hard," Christine explained, "We can work on them Saturday, if you're still planning to come over."

"Sounds like a plan," Meg said. She turned her head as the shop's bell rang out, her short, ringlet curls bobbing over her shoulder playfully. "This one outta be yours. I'll go bring her over."

Christine watched Meg practically bounce over to the client, a shorter woman who appeared to be in her mid to late thirties. She had frizzy red hair that was tied back fiercely from her face, tight enough that the corners of her eyes were drawn up, and the majority of her cheeks were dusted with dark splothces of clustered freckles. She appeared anxious, pulling on her fingers, twisting them back and forth as if she were wringing out a small towel. She smiled sweetly though as she was guided across the hardwood to Christine's corner on the shop. Christine returned the gesture, shaking her hand and gesturing for her to have a seat.

"So, what can I do for you, Ms...?"

"Dubeux. Please, call me Charlotte though," the woman replied with a nervous laugh.

"Charlotte then," Christine agreed, flipping open a new page in her notebook. She clicked her pen and scribbled in the far right corner of it, testing the ink. "Well now Charlotte, what is it you had in mind? Meg mentioned to me earlier that you wanted to do a floral piece. Any idea what kind?"

"Oh yes, definitely! I'd like a lily, if you can do that. You know, those big flowers that look like..." She made an awkward, outstretched motion with her fingertips to demonstrate the shape.

"I got you," Christine said with a smile, "And what about size?"

Charlotte made a puzzled face. "Large, I suppose?" She shimmied the sleeve of her tank top down and twisted in her chair. "From about here-," she pointed to the edge of her shoulder and then over to her scapula, "-to here? Could you do that?"

Christine nodded, scribbling down an approximate size and the name of the flower on her notepad. She then proceeded to ask Charlotte follow-up questions. She triple checked the spelling, the birth date, and the death date of her mother, listed the colors she wanted used in her tattoo, and talked over a general design idea. Charlotte made sure to state that she wanted it to be just the flower, no stem, angled inward and down. Simple and elegant.

"I had another artist draw one up earlier this week...but I didn't like it," Charlotte admitted shyly. She reached into her purse and pulled out a folded piece of paper, holding it out for Christine to take. "This is it if you want to take a look."

Christine took the drawing from Charlotte and unfolded it, turning towards her desk lamp. The drawing was beautiful, drawn in a modern and bold style. The colors weren't blended as well as they could be, but it truly wasn't a bad design. Dark leaves were swirled behind it, complimenting the reds of the petals.

"What don't you like about this?" Christine asked. "So I know what we don't want in the new design."

"It looks too cartoony," Charlotte stated with a sigh. "Too bright. Too dramatic. If we could do one that looks...I don't know, softer? My mother had this huge garden of lilies in our front yard when I was little. I just want to capture the gentle look of them for this tattoo. I want to remember her like that. She was just as pretty and soft as her flowers were."

Christine nodded in understanding. She had flown all the way out to San Diego for the tattoo on her left hand. She'd commissioned the artist after seeing her photo-realistic designs on the website Image-N, impressed by the way her work had looked more like paintings rather than tattoos. The women's skill had been tenfold what Christine's would ever be, and she'd wanted nothing but the best for a tattoo in her father's memory. So yes, she understood completely wanting nothing but perfection for a tattoo that meant that much to you.

"Give me tonight to work on a design for you," Christine told her. "Then come back tomorrow, whenever you're free, and we'll look at it together and see if it works for you. If it doesn't strike your fancy...well then, we'll just have to start over and continue working on it 'til it does. That sound like a plan?"

Charlotte grinned wide, her eyes watering with happiness as she nodded enthusiastically. She stood up as Christine rose from her chair. "Thank you, Ms. Daae. You have no idea how much this means to me."

Christine reached out her hand, the tattoo of her father's violin outstretched to her client. They shook in parting and with a happy smile Charlotte walked over to Meg to fill out a health form and settle a commission rate. As she did Christine remained where she was, looking down at her hand, twisting it back and forth in the light. Out of all her tattoos this one would always mean the most to her.

The violin on its surface was a beautiful mahogany color, with strings that were perfectly spaced and shadows that complimented it from every direction. Whenever she looked at it her heart grew warm and fuzzy, for whenever she looked at it she swore she could hear her father's playing again. She could see him standing there in her childhood home, running rosin over his bow. She could smell his strongly scented wood varnish as it dried throughout the afternoon. But most importantly she could hear him. Like a guardian angel, her tattoo carried those gentle tunes with her wherever she went.

That was what she wanted for Charlotte. She wanted her to be able to smell her mother's flower garden when she looked at her tattoo. She wanted her to feel that long ago summer sunshine on her face from when she'd played in the yard while her mother pulled weeds, to be able to hear that exhausted parental voice telling her to stay out of the mud and on the stepping stones...as she'd asked ten times already with the unmatched patience of a saint. If Christine could give her that much, she knew she'd make a difference.

The shop bell rang out again as Charlotte stepped out over the threshold, waving a quick goodbye over her shoulder as she left. Christine immediately went to work then, drawing out a variety of rough sketches and different designs. Time passed quickly as she worked, two in the afternoon quickly rolling into four in what seemed to be only a matter of minutes.

A few clients came and went throughout the rest of the day. One was a cover-up appointment for Annette herself, the owner of the establishment and Meg's mother. Her specialty was covering up terrible choices, and people would drive for miles for her to give them that blessed second chance.

The studio was set up as a large open lobby that diverted into six open sections on the back wall. Annette's studio was on the farthest side, connected to her office. Even from five walls away though Christine could still hear her booming laughter as she cracked jokes with her newest client. Annette had a way with folk that was unique. She was a people person through and through, always able to light up an entire room with her positive attitude, and was a warrior down to her bones. She'd been a marine in her youth, and had gone into art following two tours in Iraq, one in which her leg had been injured beyond repair. It was shorter than the other one now, twisted through the calf, and she had to walk with a cane in order to keep her balance. If it ever bothered her though she never mentioned such. She simply thanked God she was still alive and continued to live life one day at a time.

Granted living life one day at a time had definitely had its ups and downs for her in the past. Twenty-three years ago a man had offered her a life on the road to tour with his band. She'd told Christine she'd stayed with him four months, traveling the east coast of Florida all the way up to Maryland before finally settling down in Bradbury with the knowledge that she would be a mother. The man hadn't stuck around after learning that, which Annette had always said was a blessing all it's own, and then she'd had Meg, a beautiful and healthy baby to love and cherish, and according to her that was all she'd ever needed.

Christine glanced up at Meg, who was at the moment attempting to balance a gel pen on her nose like a dolphin with a beach ball. When the shop bell rang out again the pen dropped to her desk with a clatter. Christine watched as she then straightened up to greet a couple of college girls, straight from the beach by the looks of their tans. They seated themselves in the leather chairs of the sitting area and started flipping through the flash books at Meg's direction to do so. When one of them reached for hers she stalled her drawing and set it over on her desk, watching them. She assumed they were getting matching tattoos from the way they grinned and laughed with one another as they exchanged booklets.

After about thirty minutes the girls had decided on flash designs of anchors with birds in front of them. Meg had them filling out health forms then as Christine acknowledged her nod and began prepping her station for work. She cleaned off her chair, reclining it back and wrapping it with plastic to create a sanitary surface, then reached up to tie her hair back, making sure she got each and every streak of blue out from in front of her face so she could work without distraction.

The girls were indeed college students from farther down the coasts of Norfolk, in town for the weekend to visit one of their mothers and see a show. Their tattoos were the result of a happy, impulsive decision, something they were doing to mark the four year anniversary of their friendship. The solid foundation of said friendship was the symbolism behind their choice for anchors, they'd told her, which Christine had to admit was clever. They were polite, held a decent conversation, and tipped very well, so even though it took the rest of her shift she enjoyed the work, thanking them wholeheartedly as they left and wishing them the best.

As she cleaned up her station and disposed of all the used equipment her thoughts drifted back to the lily design she'd been working on before. She picked up her notebook, feeling dissatisfied more and more the longer she stared down at it.

She marched over to the counter and flopped down the drawing in front of Meg.

"Does this look too much like a lazy tulip to you? I'm getting a lazy tulip vibe."

Meg popped a piece of gum into her mouth and leaned over the counter, moving the notebook towards herself with one finger. "Is this a trick question? Is it not supposed to be a lazy tulip?" she asked.

Christine groaned. "No, its supposed to be a lily."

Meg shrugged. "You act as though I know the difference." She picked up the notebook and held it out for Christine to take. "You know all flowers look the same to me."

Christine took back her notebook and bit the inside of her cheek, looking over the large curved petals she'd drawn. Charlotte had specifically asked for the flower not to be too bold, and yet that's exactly what she'd sketched.

"I need a real flower - a model to look at," Christine decided aloud, "This has to be perfect. This client has already turned down another artist's design. I don't want her to reject mine as well. It will look bad on all of us if she ends up leaving a negative review online."

Meg blew a bubble and popped it, rolling her eyes. "Souds like she's way too picky. I reiterate, a flower is a flower."

Annette walked out of her studio and came over to the desk, letting Meg know that her client was finished and ready to pay the second half of his bill. She then leaned her cane against the wall and looked over at Christine, raising an eyebrow.

"You were off a half hour ago. Why you still hangin' around?" she asked.

Christine replied by holding up her sketchpad to her boss' face. "Tell me what this is."

Annette mused the illustration. "A tulip?"

"Gah! No. It's supposed to be a lily," Christine sighed. She ripped out the picture and balled it up, tossing it into the wastebasket nearby.

"Well now, that was a waste," Annette said flatly, "Christine, what have I always told you about throwing out a design? What good does it do you if you can't look back on your mistakes and learn from them later?"

Christine ignored her, changing the subject. "Annette, where do you think I can get a lily this late at night?"

"Why not just look one up online?" Meg prompted, "Wouldn't that be easier?"

"Easier doesn't always mean better," Annette explained, "Live models are an amazing resource to utilize." She pointed towards the door. "You know, there is a florist right around the corner from here. If you hurry you can probably make it there before they close. I think they're open until eight."

Christine was shocked. "Really? We have one right around the block?"

"Sweetie, you've got to get out of your apartment more often," was all Annette replied before walking back towards her office with a smirk, her cane tapping the hardwood as she went.

Christine bid Meg adieu as she began to ring up her mother's client. After gathering her things she walked towards the door and exited the shop, their tiny bell tinkling behind her. Late into the summer, the weather outside was warm and the sun would be glowing at least another hour. Christine stuffed her notebook into her bag and rounded the corner of the street, hoping this flower shop was easy to find.

As it turned out it was right there on the corner. How Christine had never noticed it before was beyond her. The building itself was aged brick, two stories high, with a wooden front that had been painted a deep forest green. As she walked closer she noticed the windows' blinds had all been pulled up, allowing sunlight to shine in on the plants. Bradbury Florist was etched in large white script on the glass door, the hours scrawled below. Christine checked the time on her phone. This shop would be closing in fifteen minutes, and while she hated the idea of disturbing someone who was probably eager to close, she knew she wouldn't be satisfied with her work tonight if she didn't get a model to reference. So with that determination in mind she took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

It made her smile when she heard they also had a little bell.

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Welcome to my first modern AU everyone! Make sure you 'follow' it to get new chapter alerts, as I tend to keep an erratic posting schedule. Also, I do ask that you leave reviews along the way as you read. I read each and every one of them and they're super motivating for me as the writer!

An added note, this story is in no way related to the other florist AU on FF, Petals and Ink. Indeed, Petals was originally written based off a Tumblr outline of mine and the author states such in her story, but at the end of the day they are two completely separate identities and we hope you enjoy them independent of one another.

xoxo,

Nicole