Page 86 of Pretty Thing

Rock music can be heard before I even open the door and poke my head inside. I’ve painted everything to look like a popular graffiti spot. Black and grey walls purposely aged. Splashes of bright color and the studio name, Devil’s Pulpit. Tagged by yours truly.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

I walk into the studio to find Matt tattooing a client’s forearm.

He can’t have been in the chair more than an hour, but he’s sound asleep. Matt has that effect on people. I call him the whisperer.

“Great,” he says, stopping long enough to glance at me.

Walking over, I inspect Matt’s work. The snake winds its way down the guy’s arm, and the head rests on the back of his hand. Each fine line is perfectly placed, and the image is really coming together.

“Looks good. I love how the scales are turning out,” I say, veering over to the counter to leave the open container of fresh cookies out for customers.

“Thanks, it’ll look sic once I shade it.” He sniffs the air, eyes landing on the container. “Fuck…you love to torture me. I’m going to be sitting here the next two hours smelling cookies,” he complains.

“You know I love to make your life hell,” I tease.

“Are you taking off?”

“Yeah, I’ll be back in a bit, and I’m bringing a guest.”

That gets his attention.

“You’re bringing Eden here?”

“Yeah, she doesn’t know it yet. It’s a surprise.” I shrug on my jacket and grab my keys.

“About time. I have to get a look at this girl,” he says, and my movements stall.

“Not too close a look,” I say, and he shakes his head.

“Man, you’ve got it bad. Don’t worry. I owe you my life. I’d bury a body for you,” he says, turning back to his work. “I’m certainly not going to make a move on your girl.”

Matt and I went to high school together, but we weren’t close until grade ten. He was a foster kid, in and out of homes, and living on the street half of the time. My mother always worried that I didn’t have friends. So when I asked if Matt could move in, I think she was relieved and all too happy to help. He’s been living with me ever since. Now he has one of the other apartments upstairs and pays his rent by working for me. He is the friend I didn’t know I needed or wanted, and yet he’s helped me get through some really tough times.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

I stop with my hand on the door and look back at Matt.

“Hey, do me a favor. Don’t mention Sam’s or Mum’s deaths to Eden. She just lost her parents, and I’m trying to keep sad conversation to a minimum.”

“What if she asks me about my life? Half of it is kind of tied to all of you.”

“That’s fine, just keep things…happy.”

“You got it, man,” he tosses over his shoulder.

I step out into the bright winter morning where the snow catches the sun and throws it back twice as bright. It’s stunning, and yet Eden outshines even the golden rays that give us life. There is nothing in this universe or beyond that compares to her beauty. She ruins traditionally beautiful things just by standing near them. I should know. She ruined my heart for anyone else long ago.

With a sigh, I picture Eden standing in my space…in our home, and know that this is finally the beginning of the rest of our lives.

eden

Felix seems lighter today, more carefree. He’s smiling, making jokes, and teasing me. It has been the closest thing I’ve had to a regular day in a month.

We pull up in front of a four-story building and park. It’s not quite downtown Pembrook, but a few streets over and still in the busier section.

It’s a perfectly old-fashioned, square sticking up out of the ground on a corner. The old architecture gives it a lived-in feel. It’s clearly been around for generations.