A Life, Forward: A Rowan Slone Novel Page 19
With a deep breath, I closed my eyes, put my palms together, and did something I rarely did—I prayed. I prayed to God, to spirits, to whoever rested just beyond my sight.
I prayed for guidance and more strength. And then I did the most important thing. I said, thank you. My life could’ve turn out far different. True, it could’ve turned out better. But it could have also turned out worse.
Thank you for all that I’ve been given.
Chills ran up and down my arms like a ghost or a spirit had caressed my skin. I opened my eyes and gazed into the gray orbs in front of me. And I smiled. Then with a deep breath, I went into the closet and pulled out my old, worn-out suitcase, its edges frayed; the same one that Mike had packed for me when I moved into his home.
I laid it on the bed and flipped it open. Soon the empty pit was filled with my clothes. That night even though I had two weeks until I could move into the apartment, I packed my things. It was time to move on, to move forward.
“YOU DID it!” Miss J. hugged me tight. It was a warm day in May with the sun’s rays showering the football stadium in golden light.
For a moment I was speechless. I looked around at my classmates, clad in red robes, red caps, and broader smiles than I’d seen during any day at school. Jess was nearby talking to Janie, Angel, and Mr. Sumners.
Her stomach pushed against the cheap fabric of the robe and she rested one hand on the small of her back, but she was smiling, rubbing her belly with her other hand like she was searching for good luck. The baby was due seven days ago, but nothing had happened. Maybe she would have the baby tonight. The apartment was ready. She seemed ready. Now we just needed him to be ready.
I looked at Miss J. “I can’t believe it, but you’re right—I did it.”
She nodded. Even Miss J.’s smile was brighter than it had ever been within the dark halls of the school. “So, now what?”
I knew now what but I wasn’t ready to tell. I would show her later. She did live in the apartment below me, after all.
“This or that.” I waved a hand in the air. “I have a few errands to run.” A group of kids behind me busted out in a song and dance so awful it was perfect, and I laughed.
She nodded. “Now that you’ve graduated and you’re no longer a student, maybe you and Jess can come down later and have a cup of tea.”
My lips spread wide. “Great. We’ll be there.”
“Perfect.”
It might seem weird to start hanging out with my old guidance counselor but during my senior year, and especially after living above her for the past several months, I’d already started to think of her as a friend.
I gave her a quick hug. “I’m going to head out now.”
She nodded, and I started to walk away. “Hey, Rowan.”
I turned.
“You can call me Tanya now.”
“ROWAN?” GRAN touched my shoulder and I turned.
“Hi, Gran.”
“Congratulations, honey. I am so proud of you.”
I smiled and it wasn’t forced at all. “Thanks, Gran.”
“I have a little something for you.” She handed me a white envelope. “Please open it.”
With my thumb, I ripped through the flap and pulled out a check written for more money than I could’ve ever imagined. I thrust it back at her. “No.” I shook my head.
She folded my fingers over the check. “Please.” Her voice cracked. “I have led a thrifty life. I don’t need this for retirement.”
“I appreciate it, but this is too much.”
“It’s not. There is still plenty left.”
I shook my head again, not quite comprehending.
“Rowan, you have overcome so much. I think you are an incredible person and if I can give you just a little bit of help, please let me do that. It doesn’t make amends for the past but maybe it can help with your future. And sweetheart,” she put a hand on my cheek, tears filling her eyes, “it’s going to be such an amazing future.”
Speechless, I let her pull me into her arms where she held me for a long, long time.
I SHIFTED on my feet, waiting at the counter of the small shop. The walls were painted red and covered in abstract prints of skulls, crossbones, dragons, and devilish imps. The floor was covered in checkered red and black tile. There were four large black leather chairs, two on each side of the room. Along the wall were waist-high cabinets with multiple drawers.
“Can I help you?” A man nearly twice my height and three times my weight walked up to the counter on heavy feet.
I tried not to look afraid, uncertain. This was the answer; the next step. If I was really ready to move on from the past, I had to deal with the scars. They may never heal, emotional or physical, but I could turn them into a powerful reminder of what I had overcome.
“I’m here for a tattoo.”
His eyes narrowed. “How old are you?”
I pulled out my ID. “Eighteen. Old enough.”
He grunted in reply and slid the ID off the counter into his beefy hand. He pulled it all the way up to his eyes, as if he needed glasses but wouldn’t wear them.
“Doesn’t look fake but if you’re eighteen, then I’m the Prince of Wales.”
I hardened my stare. “I’m eighteen. Are you going to help me or not?”
“Do you know what you want?” He tossed the ID onto the counter.
He was a bald man, wearing a white T-shirt that was pulled thin over his belly bulge and a black leather vest with silver studs on the shoulders. Tattered jeans hung low on his hips and a silver chain hung from one pocket.
I watched him as he watched me. Finally, I shook off my hoodie. Wearing short sleeves for the first time in years, I thrust my arm out. “I need to cover these. All of these.”
He gasped, a strangely feminine sound from his thin lips. “My God, kid. Why’d you do that? Your mom not love you or somethin’?”
I let my arm fall to my side. “No. My mom did not love me. Not in the way I needed. Nor did my dad either for most my life. And I have a sister who is psycho and a drug addict. Do you want to hear my life story or should we get on with it?”
“We’ll get on with it. Come on.” He walked toward a black chair. “Let’s figure out what we can do to cover up those ugly scars.”
I followed him and plopped down on the chair, scooting my butt back. The chair nearly swallowed me and my feet dangled off the end. He pulled out three white binders. He sat two on the small cabinet, pulled up a backless stool, and brought one binder to me. He opened it up and said, “Let’s see what our options are.”
“I know what I want, and we won’t find it in those binders.”
WHEN I left the shop, the sun was still shining bright overhead. My arm throbbed like I’d been stung by a hundred tiny bees but compared to the pain I’d put myself through those years of cutting, it was nothing.
I glanced down. The inside of my left arm was covered in tattoos. When I walked in, my arm looked like a chopping block, now it was covered in black and blue ink.
I could only see the underlying scars if I looked really close. I guess they would always be part of me. Part of what shaped me. But they no longer identified who I was.
Along these cuts lay words now, words from my own heart:
Always a light will shine
Down upon my life.
Always a hope will spring
And my heart will be full.
Always an angel will sing
As he watches over me.
Where the deepest cut was carved, where I had cut the A for my dead brother, blue angel wings were tattooed. Angel wings for my angel brother, Aidan.
As I stood on the sidewalk, beams of sunshine warmed my upturned face.
And I smiled.
Other Rowan Slone Titles
by Tracy Hewitt Meyer
A Life, Redefined
Meet the Creative Team
Cover design, interior book design,
eBook design, and editing by
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Tracy writes Young Adult fiction as well as Adult Romance. She lives in the mid-east with her family, a goldendoodle, a bearded dragon, and four curiously antisocial fire-bellied toads. Visit her at www.TracyHewittMeyer.com.
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Table of Contents
Book Description
Praise for “A Life, Redefined”
Title Page
Copyright Info
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Light - Rowan Slone
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Coming Soon - A Life, Freed
Other Rowan Slone Titles
Meet the Creative Team
About the Author
Visit the Author
The Butterfly Project