Olive's P.O.V.
I woke up throwing up again. I hate stomach bugs, especially when I have a long drive ahead. I'll probably have to pull over a lot more if I continue to stay nauseous. This better stop before Thanksgiving because I refuse to not feel well enough to eat Hailey's family's cooking or Leo's for that matter.
I grabbed my suitcase and headed towards the amazing car mom left me. She made sure I was taken care of before she left, maybe as her way of making up for those long years without her. I threw the suitcase in the trunk, before taking my seat. I had to adjust the driver seat, since Lucas drove last. I wish he was driving me now. Maybe next time I go, I'll take him with me and he can see where I liked to hang out.
I started the playlist I created this morning for the road trip. It was a mixture of energized music and soft melancholy tunes. I wanted to wallow in missing Lucas, but also needed to not get tired. I forget how beautiful the drive home can be with the foliage of fall. I wished I could put the top down and enjoy the sun against my skin, but the crisp cold air of New York's November told me it was a terrible idea.
The drive was relaxing, and I only had to pull over once to throw up. It wasn't too terrible considering. I really need to go to the doctor when I get back.
Welcome to Portsmouth
The familiar green sign with white border welcomed me as I entered my hometown. The historic buildings of downtown came into view as I drove into town. Nothing changes much here. The ice skating rink at the Starwbery Banke Museum was open again, littered with kids who were out of school this week in preparation for the holiday.
The owner of the music hall must have had the signed fix since I was last here, having all of its letters flash brightly again. I headed to the Water Street Inn. It's far enough away that I won't risk running into dad, but close enough that I won't be driving an hour away to get into town. The historic house came into view, with its beautiful landscaping.
"Good afternoon," I was greeted as I entered the door. "Do you have a reservation?"
"Yes, it should be under Brewer."
"Ah, yes, welcome Ms. Brewer. We have you booked in room 2."
After some finagling of the computer she grabbed the key and led me to the room. I placed my suitcase on the bed and began to unpack my things. I decided that I'd go pay Joe a visit first. He is the only friend I have here. If you can even really call him my friend. He's more of my therapist/tattoo artist, and if you ask either, they can't be your friend. Maybe I'll have a session. I've been itching to ink my sink more.
I grabbed some lunch before heading to the Iron Works Tattoo parlor on Congress Street. The small shop between Jumpin Jay's and The Goat Entertainment came into view. It's welded sign still hung over the shop. The glass was always clean, letting me peer in before entering. I could see Joe, leaned over a woman working his magic on her ankle. I opened the door to find a new face behind the counter.
"Welcome to Iron Works Tattoos. What can we do for you?" She asked me. She screamed hardcore chick with her multitude of piercings and sleeved neck tattoo. She had her hair dyed a faded blue with large gauges on her ears. She didn't smile much, looking at me like I shouldn't be here.
"I'm here to see Joe. I'll wait." I answered her, taking no offense to her presumptions.
I scrolled through my phone trying to find something good to add onto my sleeve, even though I know Joe will do what Joe wants. About 10 minutes later the woman Joe had been working on paid and left. Joe was busy cleaning his instruments, still not noticing me. He was always very oblivious when he was focused on something.
"Joe you got a customer!" The blue haired girl called back to him.
Joe was a big guy, not necessarily the one you would pick to do your tattoos. His looks make you believe that gentle is not in his dictionary, but that would be a very big false assumption, as Joe is the gentlest. I have never so much as felt a jolt of terrible pain when he's worked on me. His dark brown thick eyebrows, that were just a shade darker than his brown hair, furrowed as he turned. He seemed upset that someone had interrupted his routine. His rich hazel eyes looked almost green today with flecks of gold. He smiled as he recognized me.
"How is my beaut?" He asked about the tattoo sleeve he made. I lifted my shirt to show it off, impressing the girl behind the counter. "Pause, that's not mine." He pointed to the pink ribbon with a scowl.
"Yeah, I know. I needed it, and you weren't exactly a close drive." I shrugged.
He narrowed his eyes as he approached to investigate it further. His rough large finger traced over the ribbon as if he were trying to imagine how the tattoo had been done. He shook his head in disappointment, clearly not happy with it.
"Come on, I'll fix it. She deserves better than this." He pulled me to his table without letting me say a word. My chest tightened at his words, he knew who it was for. He saw the name, recognized the symbol, noticed the date.
"Thank you, Joe," I whispered as he got to work on my side.
"Start talking, I know you're dying to tell me everything that is bothering you," He said as his needle made contact with my skin.
I started by telling him about Hailey and how she helped me. I then moved on to Julius and how I finally lost my virginity, he scrunched his nose in disgust at that revelation.
"Didn't need to know that part, cherry bomb." I hadn't heard him call me that in a long time. Sweet as a cherry with the explosive anger of a bomb, he'd explained it to me.
"Too bad, now you know. Anyway, I'm not done so shhh."
I continued on with my story, telling him about Lucas, then Leo. I told him about mom, then Lucas some more.
"Moved in already?!" He arched his brow, surprised that I would be so reckless in his eyes.
"Yes, moved in. It was right for us, so fuck everyone else's timeline of how things should go." I nodded in determination.
"Alright, way to blow up the norms. Continue."
I told him about how dad is having a baby with some new girlfriend. I then asked him to watch out for her and let me know if he sees anything suspicious when it comes to her health.
"I'm not some secret agent for you, Cherry, so I'm not going out of my way to check on this girl, but if I see anything I'll let you know."
"Thanks, Joe."
"Alright, all done. Here." He handed me a mirror to use to look at it. He'd outlined the ribbon in black and added flowers to come out the center top. They were her favorites, orange tulips. He then wrote one of mom's favorite sayings from the movie Forest Gump "Life's a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get."
"It's perfect. Thank you, Joe. Although, how you know these things about my mother astounds me." I arched a brow at him curiously.
"Did she never tell you?"
"Tell me what?" I propped myself up on my elbows, extremely interested now.
"I was the one that helped her leave, kid." He grabbed the white gauze as he dropped that bomb shell on me.
"You?"
"Yeah, me. We went to high school together, and we were once close friends. She was the one that got away."
"Fucking shit, Joe."
My mind was reeling, refusing to process the words that just came out of Joe's mouth.
The one that got away. I guess I have one of those too.
"Did you know where she was all this time?"
I couldn't look at him as I asked, keeping my eyes on the ceiling, trying to hold back tears. I've poured my heart out to this man many times, trusted him with everything, and he never once told me he knew mom. He never once stopped me and told me 'I know, cherry. I know it all'. He let me complain about how she abandoned me and how dad was an ass.
"No, I didn't. She didn't know where she was going when she left. I just helped her get out, and hide her steps along the way. I hid the money she saved to escape as well as a go bag. She asked me to look out for you, to save you if his fists ever turned to you in her stead. How do you think you ended up on my chair without permission at 17?" He asked me, like it should have been obvious.
"I don't know, I thought I was just charming, or that you pitied me enough not to care." I wiped at the side of my eyes, where a tear had rolled out. "Thank you for helping her, Joe." I whispered with my voice cracking.
My emotions poured out of me like a river. My tears couldn't seem to be stopped, keeping my wrists over my eyes and wiping them continuously. I wanted more time with her... needed more time with her. I wish she could have told me about Joe herself. There's so much I still don't know about her, pieces of her I am still learning about. I tried to imagine her and Joe in high school, but it was a hard image to picture.
"Come on, Cherry Bomb, let's go get a cup of me and talk more."
I laughed seeing what he did there, a cup of joe.
"Okay, I expect all the details about you and my mom." I pointed at him as I got off his table.
"I'll be back later Vicky, taking a lunch break."
Blue haired girl, apparently named Vicky, nodded at him. Her eyes roamed my body assessing me like she still wasn't sure of me. I returned her gaze, showing her I don't shy away just because someone is looking at me. She could have fucking face tattoos and I would still return her gaze. She's not hard.
Time to fess up, Joe.