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lucas
Just what I fucking needed.
As if the situation with Charlee weren’t enough, my current session was taking longer than expected. I had those two appointments this afternoon that would probably be better suited to Charlee’s designs—the incredible one she showed me that was similar to the tattoo I designed for her still on my mind.
And now this.
“Give me a sec,” I said to this morning’s client. It was a walk-in from yesterday, a tourist in town for the weekend. Attracting both locals and tourists had always been the plan, and with minimal advertising, I was pleasantly surprised at the steady stream of customers so far. But pretty soon, if this kept up, I’d have the problem of being too busy.
“Dad, what are you doing here?”
I hadn’t talked to him since the morning after I fetched him from the bar. After checking in on him and listening to his excuses about his drunken behavior and lack of current employment, I’d left without looking back. I’d spent half of middle school and all of high school trying to help him, despite the fact that I was the kid and he the adult.
He just didn’t want to be helped.
“A father can’t come to see his own son’s new business?”
Thank God for small favors. He wasn’t drunk yet at least. Which meant I might actually be able to carry on a conversation with him.
“By all means, come on in. But I’m with a client at the moment.” Alex wasn’t in until this afternoon, so it was just me, myself, and I.
“Mind if I watch?”
Do not be fooled, Lucas. How many times had my father lured me in over the years? Made me think he was actually going to be a real father for a change? Cautiously, I waved him over. “Sure, come on in.”
I turned back to my client. “Sorry about that,” I said, resuming work on the compass on his chest. “What do you think so far?”
“Looks great,” he said. “Size is perfect. Design, spot on.”
“A compass,” my father murmured as he sat next to us. So, he was going to offer commentary throughout the process. Great. “Couldn’t do my job without it.”
My father had had a lot of jobs in his life. Not one of them required a compass. Mechanic? Bartender? What a cluster that one was. He’d hauled wine barrels for a vineyard and worked construction. But a compass?
“Which job was that?” I asked, wiping my client’s chest. This ink was looking pretty sweet.
“When I first moved here to work for GeoNY.”
I paused. “What’s that? Never heard of it.”
“That’s because they went out of business. I was a geologist by trade. Worked for them for over ten years.”
“A geologist? Dad, don’t you need to get a degree in that?”
In response, my father, his eyes still bloodshot, blinked. But he didn’t argue with me either.
“You don’t have a geology degree. Right?”
“Wrong.”
My client and I exchanged a look.
“Wait, what?”
“Graduated from Syracuse with a geology bachelor’s. Moved here to work for GeoNY. Met your mom. Had you. Lost my job. Your mom left.”
I started working again, aware that this sounded crazy. “How is it possible I knew all of that except the geologist part?”
Still didn’t believe it.
