INKED LOVE -Prologue

A delicious aroma came flooding through my nostrils and registered hard into my brain. My mind and palate reeled with anticipation, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was producing such a mouthwatering scent. However, it seemed that I would not be given the opportunity…

She kept urging me on, faster and faster, until my legs were barely able to keep up and the burn was cramping my calves. We finally turned the corner onto yet another narrow cobblestone street, when the sound of laughter and dishes breaking, filled my ears. Despite this, my focus remained steadfast as I continued skipping over the stones, each more uneven than the next.

Inhaling deeply for the second time that evening, I took in the most enticing scent. Unmistakably, I recognized it as poutine ; that infamous gravy and fries dish renowned here in the Province of Québec. It was greasy, gooey and bad for you in all the best ways. Or so, I assumed anyway from what my friends had told me.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I focused on another forbidden scent. Cigarette smoke and beer. I loved the way it seemed to blanket the city’s thick summer heat.

There was something sublimely perfect about that moment. And despite it lasting only a few seconds, it would remain etched in my mind, forever.

My mother rushed along even faster than before, her heels clicking repeatedly along the uneven stones. She tugged at my hand impatiently as I slowed down to gaze at the hordes of loud, boisterous patrons on a nearby terrace. From the corner of my eye, I caught my mother’s nose wrinkle in disgust at the sight of cheese curds sprinkled atop of their food. People were laughing and calling out “Bon appétit!”, as they dug into these seductive dishes. They seemed happy and relaxed in a way that I had never experienced or seen in my immediate surroundings. It was amazing that we were only six hours from home, and yet the people of Montreal, seemed to be living in a different universe.

“Alexis stop ogling; it’s such a classless behavior.” My mother scolded loudly, as if her judgmental behavior was perfectly acceptable.

As usual, my father was strides ahead, pretending he wasn’t even with us. Talking on the phone as always; he was immersed in a world of cases, depositions and problems that seemed far more important than us. My older brother Logan was trailing even further behind, but no one seemed to notice or care about him. Just me. How typical.

I tried to keep up with my mother’s pace but it was next to impossible. She was on a strict schedule, as always. Aiming to be exactly down to the minute, and if possible— even the second. I, on the other hand, would have been content to wander the streets leisurely and take in all the fascinating sights and sounds.

Looking up at her, I smiled. Despite my annoyance at her constant lecturing, her beauty captivated me. I had always been told that I was a carbon copy of her. And I couldn’t deny that we both had the same thick, bouncy white blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. Our skin was a light caramel color from the summer sun. But our differences ended there. Where she sported a hard-stern stare, I offered a distant dreamy innocence.

That look was not for anything. I had learned long ago, how to keep her happy. Agree, placate, smile, and repeat. It was a cycle that was so familiar to me it was almost natural. Except that it wasn’t. And somewhere, somewhere far off and deep within in my being, I knew it.

We continued around that last corner and ran straight into a mass of people dancing, singing and clapping in tune to a street band. Needless to say, my mother’s mood went from bad to worse. What she perceived as such low-class behavior, nearly gave her a coronary. She just kept muttering under her breath about the loud music and the scandalously clad young women, dancing in the streets. Like oil to her water, I was mesmerized. Hypnotized, by the freedom that they joyously displayed. They seemed to dance without a care in the world, and in that moment, I wanted to be one of them.

Glancing behind me, I saw that Logan was looking equally entranced, but perhaps for a different reason. We caught each other’s eyes and he smirked as I rolled my eyes back at him. We weren’t really all that close, Logan and I. However, in times of allegiance against the uptight, rigid, rules of the roost— we were always in each other’s corner.

Finally, we had reached our destination and caught up to my father. We slipped dutifully in the lineup behind the other guests. It seemed that everyone had arrived at the same time which forced us to halt and wait for our turn to enter. My mother brushed the creases in my dress and fussed with my hair aggressively. Her attempt to fix the errant strands of hair that had been messed up during our speed walking, only made it worse. She made my fifteen-year-old self, feel like I was five in an instant.

Standing there and trying to ignore her while she fussed, I shifted my focus to a nearby door. A door that was dark, sinister and yet so very intriguing. It had an aura that made shivers go up my spine as I silently wondered what was happening on the other side. No signs or markings had given me a clue.

As if the universe was answering my thoughts, the mysterious door opened, and a man appeared. He leaned against the arched door frame and lit up a cigarette. It was impossible not to stare at him despite knowing that every second that I did, would get me into more trouble than it was worth.

His jeans hugged his lower body in a way that made me stare at places that I hadn’t before. His t-shirt clung to the rippled form beneath the thin white cotton. His arms and neck were lined in an array of tattoos that left almost no natural skin showing at all. He had a five o’clock shadow and a black tuque that hung off the back of his head, despite the summer heat.

My erratic, heavy breathing soon caught my mother’s attention. She leaned in to my ear tactfully, and whispered, “Stop staring Alexis. Despite him being an unsavory character, it’s still rude.” Her voice stung me with a sickly sweetness.

Unfortunately, my mother hadn’t been subtle enough though. In fact, she may have even caused him to notice me. Or… maybe not. In any case, we locked eyes as he flicked his cigarette in our direction and lifted his chin towards me like he approved of what he saw. He held my gaze long enough that my heart began to pump faster in my chest and my breathing faltered in rhythm. I could feel the prickly heat of embarrassment and curiosity dancing its way across my chest. Looking away was impossible. He held me, captive and entranced. He was definitely way older than I was, but he looked at me not as the little girl my parents saw, but as the woman I desperately wanted to be. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds but it felt like an eternity before he threw his cigarette on the ground and winked at me as he ground it out with his foot.

Logan brushed past me and whispered in a sing-song voice, purposely loud enough for my mother to hear, “Ooohh… looks like Lexi’s got a thing for older bad boys, eh?”

Appalled, my mother grabbed my face below my chin and yanked it to get my attention. “Don’t you even think of it young lady!” She scolded. Shaken out of that most blissful moment, I sighed turning to her. This was the story of my life. Being reprimanded for something before I’d had the chance to even consider it.

“If you ever come home with tattoos— or with a boy who looks like that, you’d better just not come home at all!” She continued on, rambling about how respectable young women should behave. Once again, I plastered a zombie-like smile on my face and zoned out.