New Years Resolutions

One. I knew this was going to be it. I wouldn’t have any more opportunities after this. I built up my willpower and forced the door open. It smelt like ink and men’s cologne, the faint sound of buzzing made me shiver. 

“How can I help you?” asked a woman behind the counter. She was chewing gum like it was some sort of punishment. Her blue eyes glittered behind the thick, black liner and piercings through her upper nose area. She reminded me a little of the Klingons with the divides up their forehead. 

“I’m looking to get a tattoo,” I replied. My voice was a little shaky and I tried to stand more confidently. She gave me a superior smile and nodded. 

“Sure thing, do you have something in mind or do you want to pick from the wall?” she asked, pointing to her left at the wall of small hand drawn designs. Some of them were clear: animals or hearts that were embellished but some of them made no sense to me. They were just weird swirls on the wall. I stared at them hoping I’d find one that connected with me or “spoke” to me as my friend Amber said it would. Finally, I landed on a small dragonfly covered with twinkling stars. I pointed at it. 

“That one, please,” I mumbled. She followed my finger and nodded as if that’s the kind of thing she expected from someone like me. I ignored her though and filled out the forms she pushed towards me. I started to get a bit more anxious as I read through the disclaimers and warnings. But before I could change my mind a short, stout man who was covered in tattoos from head to toe walked to the counter and took my papers from me. The woman pointed to the tattoo I had chosen and he gave me the same judgmental look but said nothing. 

“Alright, right this way,” he grumbled. 

The process was uncomfortable but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as I had imagined it would. I kept my eyes away from him and stared around, memorizing the room. Even though most of it wasn’t my taste, I couldn’t deny the art surrounding the four walls was exquisite. I was surprised when he finished and I had hardly noticed. He pulled me up towards the mirror and I was amazed at how lovely it looked. It looked almost natural on me. 

“What do you think?” he asked, obviously already proud of his work. I smiled, beyond pleased. 

“It’s really beautiful. It looks really good,” I said, unable to hide the surprise in my voice. The artist clearly thought nothing of it. He moved to grab his phone and took close up pictures of his work. 

“What are you doing?” I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. He didn’t bother to look up at me as he answered but he gave me a half smile and a chuckle. 

“It’s for my website. I document each tattoo and post it for future clients to see my work,” he explained. It made sense. The details of what it meant to be a tattoo artist, though, were not ones I had ever thought about in depth. 

I handed over the cash I had in my pocket and walked back out the door into the sunshine, feeling a new sense of excitement and joy. I wanted to catch people looking at my new tattoo and admiring its beauty. 

Two. I knew this one would be significantly harder. I stood at the edge of the water, sinking my toes into the wet sand. I hadn’t been this close to the ocean since it happened. My heart was pounding and my fear thumped through me like a thunder cloud. 

“I can do this, I can do this, I can do this,” I continued to mumble to myself. 

I watched the children around me running carefree and joyfully into the water. They had no lingering fears or worries about the dangers of the ocean. There was nothing to hold them back from enjoying their time. I watched them in wonderment, trying to imagine a time when I felt like that. Slowly and carefully, I inched my foot closer and deeper into the water. 

I gasped when a wave crashed against my knees. It was powerful enough to shake me but not to knock me down. I looked around but no one was watching me and no one else seemed nervous or afraid. I took another step forward and the water slopped around my thighs. It was colder than I remembered but it still felt nice against the hot sun. Only in Hawaii could it be this warm on new years day. 

I could also see her beyond in the waves, beckoning me to her. I felt like a small child again. I took a few more brave steps and the water was at my waist. It felt like her memory was taunting me but I could do this. I would conquer this fear. I was almost there. I could reach the spot and be done. I stopped dead in my tracks when I heard a child scream. It shot me right back to the moment and my heart started to pound harder like it could escape from my chest and save me from what I was about to do. 

When I looked over towards the sound I realized it was a playful scream. There were children trying to climb all together onto a larger innertube and failing miserably. None of them seemed to truly mind though. I smiled at them and tried to calm my anxiety back down. 

I crept along and finally landed in the spot. Without thinking I held my breath and sank under the water. It was a strange and refreshing feeling. Nothing like taking a bath at all. It was a pleasantly peculiar feeling.  For just a moment I could understand how this could be a fun and pleasant activity. I jumped up and moved quickly back to the shore. 

“I did it mama,” I snarled, to no one in particular. I knew she couldn’t hear me. But it made me feel like I could do anything and stand up to her in any way. 

Three. My hair was still damp. I pushed it out of my face as I walked into the crowded hospital. The building smelt of bleach and medicine, I almost gagged. I forced myself to keep walking towards the elevators. I pushed the round button and couldn’t help but wonder how often they cleaned that space. 

The elevator jolted to life before starting its slow crawl up the building. Naturally, everyone got off before me - off on floors where their loved ones were expected to live. That would not be the case for me. I waited and got off on the 14th floor - the death zone. I walked silently through the white halls and up to the now extremely familiar front desk. 

I recognized the woman here as a regular during the afternoon hours. She gave me the usual sympathetic smile. How would she know this wasn’t a negative thing for me? 

“I’m ready,” I stated, knowing she had already pulled up my file. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. 

“Are you sure? Today?” I could tell from her tone she was trying her best not to sound as appalled as she felt. I took a deep breath and forced a smile. 

“Yes, today. I want to start this new year off with all of this behind me,” I answered. She gave me a half smile, clearly unable to understand or relate. She typed into her computer and nodded at me. 

“Have a seat and Doctor Samuels will be out shortly.” 

I moved over to the couch that was splashed with bright purple and other accenting colors. It was as if the hospital wanted to transport people back into the 80s. I laughed and took a deep breath. I couldn’t believe it. These might have been the hardest resolutions I had ever designed for myself and I was going to complete them on the first day of the new year. 

“Morgan?” Doctor Samuels called. I stood up and walked over to him. He gave me the same confused and sympathetic look the receptionist had. 

“Now, are you sure you want to do this today? I know you said you’re ready but often people find this more traumatic than they realize.” 

I nodded. 

“I am ready.” 

He didn’t fight me. He walked me back to the room where she lay - silent and motionless, as if she was already dead. The monitors beeped rhythmically. She looked little and helpless now. I knew finally, finally she wouldn’t be able to get to me. Finally, I could be the one who hurt her. 

“Do it,” I state, calm and collected. Doctor Samuels pushed some forms in my hands. 

“Just sign the forms,” he said. I tore my eyes away from my mother and looked at the papers. I didn’t even bother to read them before signing. When I finished a nurse moved over and started to turn off and unplug the machines. The beeping gave out a soft cry of defeat before flat lining. 

“5:52pm,” Doctor Samuels muttered, writing it down on his chart. “Do you want to say anything or perhaps we could call a priest for you?” 

I stared at my mother’s lifeless body, knowing her eyes would never open again. Her mouth would never be able to spill toxic poison at me and her hands would never touch me again. I shook my head. 

“No, thank you.” I didn’t wait for what else he had to say or take the card in hand for a counselor. I was finally free. I walked out of the hospital and embraced the new year.