Alice Mendell had lime green paint on her patched overalls. Her hair, now down to her waist, was held back in a long ponytail so she wouldn’t get an unintentional dye job. Lipstick Trace’s first CD Less Mic, More Jive was playing in the other room, quite loudly in fact. Alice hoped that Quin’s new neighbors wouldn’t mind. They already made a comment about ‘loud college kids’, and was hoping that she could help Quincy’s neighbors warm up to him more. Sunlight filtered in through cream colored curtains and tiny dust particles floated lazily in the air.
Quincy Abrams walked into the room, carrying another roller paintbrush. He walked up to Alice and kissed her, while his hand and the rolling brush layered her backside with green.
“See if I kiss you again.” She took her brush and slapped his face until he looked like a lime.
He wiped the paint from his face and patted her on the shoulder. “Thanks for helping me with the renovation. I appreciate it.”
“I wasn’t about to let this apartment be painted in black and trimmed with red. God only knows if you’ll put your little skull head garlands around your windows. You’d get away with it now, but if I do end up moving in, keep in mind that this’ll only be the beginning of the renovations I’ll make.”
Quincy sat on a bar stool and swiveled around, looking at his new office room. “I think it looks good, I can start moving stuff in here now.”
“Stuff.” Alice sighed. “Your technical term for everything.”
“I didn’t coin the word, but I won’t hesitate to use it.” Quincy snickered.
“Will and Ross’ll be over soon; they just texted me.
Said they have more apartment warming gifts for you.”
“If they got me another base drum I’ll be happy.” Quincy walked around the room, opening the door to a closet. “It smells like wood.” He laughed. “I miss that car.”
“I’m kinda glad it’s gone, your new one suits you much better.” Alice walked over to a window and peered down at his red sedan. “Much more comfortable. Oh look, there they come now.” Alice said.
Quincy smiled, and walked to the front door to unlock it. William looked rough with stubble across his face and a cake box in his arms. “Hey buddy!” William sat the cake down on a fold out table and clapped Quincy on the back. “How’s the new digs?”
“Doesn’t look very healthy does he?” Roslyn reached out and held Quincy’s chin with the hand not holding a bottle of grape juice. “A bit green all over. Has he been feeding himself again Allie?” Roslyn leaned on William.
“I’ve still got the paintbrush if you want some color on those pale cheeks Miss Lyden.” Quincy nodded, holding his hands out for the drink. “And thanks for this, it’s my fav.”
“So, Quin, I was thinking. And this time I think I’ve got a good idea.” William tugged at his friend’s shirt sleeve. “Let’s stop renovating the place for today, and go do something incredibly boss.”
“Are we going to finally get your hair dyed purple Will?” Alice asked.
“Not today! Maybe tomorrow, or at the next show!”
“Today, we should all go get our first tattoos. He pumped his fist in the air. “I’ve thought about it for a while…”
“Half an hour…” Roslyn broke in.
“…and as a professional band with a full length CD, we need one at the very least for each of us. Otherwise how will people take us seriously?”
“I take you seriously.” Quincy smiled.
“Aww thanks Quin.” William grinned, white teeth illuminated by the sunlight that once again shone through the window.
“I think that could be fun actually. I’d like to get one.” Alice stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Quincy. “What do you think? You up for a little pain today?”
“My whole life is a torrent of pain, assuaged only by the numbness I feel from the deepest sleep. God surrendered my soul to the devil, and I’ve become his playground.”
“Didn’t you try that line on your parents once?” Alice asked.
“Yep.” Quincy bent to tighten his shoelace. “But I was actually quoting…”
“I knew you were quoting,” Alice pushed him softly. “Quincy just heard his poem has received an A by his professor. He’s pretty excited over it.”
“Way to go man! That’s totally awesome.” William high fived his buddy. “All the more reason to celebrate!”
“Well, let’s go then.” Quincy said, making sure he had his wallet.
“I think I’ll get changed first…if you don’t mind. I for one won’t walk out with green all over me.”
“Your box of stuff should be in the bedroom!” Quincy called after her, and he walked with Will and Roslyn out to the front steps. He breathed in the early Fall air and leaned against the cool brick of his new place. “It’s nice; I think I’ll like it here.” Quincy commented.
“I hope you do; we’ll get the tour when we come back. I wanna check out your patio.” William nodded.
“It’s good, I’ve got some room for the dart board and grill.”
“So what kinda tattoo are we gonna get?” William asked.
Quincy shrugged and looked to Roslyn.
“I’d tell you to get something hideous and embarrassing, that way you’ll always have something to talk about at after parties.” She suggested.
“How about the heart and flower symbol off the album?” Alice said, coming out of the apartment and locking the door behind her.
“I’m all over that, I could see myself with our sign.” William reached out and grabbed Roslyn’s hand.
“That’s actually pretty appealing,” Quincy agreed. “We’d be like the Corps! All having the same tattoo!” William clapped his hands. “That’s it, I’m doing it.” William announced.
“Alright then, let’s break the skin.” Roslyn grinned as they all walked out to the driveway where her bike and Quincy’s car waited for them.
“You lead the way dude, we’ll follow.” Quincy said, stopping to open Alice’s door.
“Righteous!” William said, strapping on a frosty blue helmet and taking the reins of Roslyn’s bike.
William kicked the bike to life and Quincy watched as the Roslyn & Will pulled out. “Alright,” Quincy said, turning on the radio and smiling devilishly to Alice. “Should it be on my rear end?”
William sat on the patched and padded bench and watched his three friends smile encouragingly at him. His artist returned with a tray of colors and slender packages. Will’s heart was thumping like a wild rabbit’s foot.
“So, you’ll be doing me?” Will asked, and he could almost see Roslyn’s crooked little smirk.
“Chest tattoos usually mean you take your shirt off.” The artist replied.
“I’ll take it off, but can I at least know your name first? Will asked, lifting his shirt over his head.
“I’m Peter.” He ran a copy of the band logo off a nearby machine.
Will laid his shirt down. “Like Brady?” Peter scowled. “No. Like a dick.”
Will heard Quincy stifling his laughter, but Roslyn & Alice made no effort to hide their own.
“Hmm.” Peter stood in front of William. “Ain’t got much nipple do ya?”
William blushed, as Peter put the trace on his right breast. “Does this look right to you?” Peter readied his gun.
“Doesn’t look left for sure.”
A smile crossed Peter’s face. “Then let’s start.”
Will was surprised that it didn’t hurt more. He had expected terrible agony, at least the pain of a bee sting! But he was quite comfortable. “You know Peter, I asked a rabbi about tattoos and he said they were a violation of God’s law.”
Peter shook his head incredulously.
“Will, every word you say is a violation of God’s law.” Quincy said.
“And you’re not even Jewish.” Alice piped in. “Good thing, too.” Will peered down at his chest as Peter dipped his gun in ink.
When Will was finished, Roslyn went next. She had volunteered to take Quincy’s place, as he wasn’t yet ready.
“Will I be tattooing your chest also?” Peter asked hopefully.
Roslyn watched as William grew wide eyed. “I think you had more than enough fun on first base playing with my boyfriend’s chest. I wouldn’t want you getting too excited; those are nice pants and I’d hate for you to ruin them on my account.” She said smartly, as she got positioned on the bench. She raised her shirt up to just above her belly button. Taking her hand, she pointed to a spot close to the line of her pants.
“There?” Peter asked. “Absolutely.” Roslyn replied.
He held out his hands uncertainly. “Just to put it out there,” he said as he readied a new needle. “If you ever have kids, this might not look the same afterwards.”
Roslyn grinned. “It won’t be an issue.”
William smiled, and the secret knowledge. Was shared amongst Quincy & Alice. Peter shrugged, terribly out of the loop.
“It’s your body.” He said, putting his outline on Roslyn’s flesh.
Alice got hers just above her bust line, and with every successive pass of Peter’s gun, Quincy’s face got a bit green, William noticed.
At last, Quincy’s turn came. “I want it on my hand please.”
“Since I’m a songbird of sound advice today, I’ll say visible tattoos can inhibit job opps. I’ll do it; I just don’t want angry parents in here. Kid got a 666 tattooed on his wrists once when I first started. He had a faked release form from his parents. Got in some shit for that one.”
Quincy scoffed. “I’m 20, I live on my own, my father is the devil, and my Mom didn’t know when to stop buying me cartoon crotch huggers. Trust me, I’m good.”
Peter nodded and set to work. “It’s odd, all you guys getting this symbol. But, whatever.”
“We’re in a band! Lipstick Trace.” William stepped forward shamelessly. He put his arm around Roslyn. “Well, except for Roslyn here. She’s our talent agent.” He took out a bright yellow flyer from his back pocket. “Come see us some time, we always play this club.”
“…Thanks?” Peter said as he walked them to the front of the shop and totaled them up.
Alice’s tattoo was the cheapest. “A discount for the enchanting view.” Peter commented.
Quincy escorted Alice out with his right hand, once outside he couldn’t control himself.
“That guy was a dick!”
William smiled. “You mean; he was a Peter.”
William corrected him.
***
Quincy spent the next few days making his apartment feel like his old room. The music helped, like it always did. “There are blank spots on these walls where AC/DC posters should be. I really should go back and rescue them, presuming they’ve not been burned.” Quincy spoke to himself, this habit had been growing on him in this last year.
He heard keys turning in their slot, and went out to see Alice. She carried two brown bags with her, full to the brim with groceries. He smiled.
“Is there really early blizzard coming?” he took a bag off of her hands.
“I’ve got yogurt, popsicles and two or three coffee blends.” Alice said, sitting her bag on the bar table and methodically putting each item in its newly appointed spot.
“Sweet. I can always use more caffeine.”
“Mr. Cineplex Manager, you.” Alice tossed a can of green beans at him.
Quincy rolled his eyes. “Someone needs to make sure teenagers aren’t screwing in the back rows.”
Alice grinned, then her smile faltered. It did not escape Quincy’s notice.
“What was that for? My jokes that bad?”
She folded up the emptied bag and stuck it in her recycling drawer. She sat down on a barstool and opened a can of lemonade. “Saw your Mom.” Alice let this bomb fall through the air.
Quincy blinked, willing away the itch that wouldn’t be sated. “Really? She never goes out.” Quincy recalled. “Like…ever.”
“Yeah.” Alice’s resolve cracked like a hardboiled egg.
“Well, what did she say?” Quincy asked curiously. “She didn’t recognize me at first. She wanted ….”
Alice paused, collecting herself. “She asked how you were.” Alice held her head steadily, and looked at Quincy carefully. She watched his eyes, for in them she saw everything.
“That’s strange.” Quincy played with a paring knife.
“Loneliness can do that to people.” Alice licked her lips. Uninvited silence crept into the room.
“Quincy,” She reached out for his hand not holding the knife. “Your Dad…” she saw his eyes darken, “Your Dad left your Mom.”
Quincy stopped playing with the knife, and blinked. “What?”
“I’m sorry baby,” Alice said compassionately, “he’s been gone for the last few months.”
Quincy coughed, and shook his head. He moved like a broken needle on a record. Back and forth, yet not really going anywhere or making any comprehensible sounds.
“I’m sorry, to tell you.” She said.
“Don’t be. Nothing he does really surprises me anymore.” Quincy said.
“Didn’t show up for my graduation, doesn’t give a damn about anyone but himself.”
“I really wish I could say something that would make your words untrue, but she looked really bad Quincy. I can tell she’d love to see you.” Alice got up and led him to the barstool next to her, before he wore a trail into the hardwood.
Quincy was a little surprised to feel the back of his eyes burning, of all the things his father had ever done, he had never expected him to abandon his mother. “It’s just like…where is the structure in life?” he said, looking up at Alice.
“It’s not so big a deal,” Alice quickly took that back. “I mean, it’s not not a big deal, I just mean, it happens to people. People fail and sometimes things get taken for granted.”
Quincy felt himself shaking. “That’s why she was out.” Quincy swallowed, feeling like he was forcing cotton down his throat. “Because she’s alone now.”
“She’s got to be missing her son. Didn’t you always say she seemed more in touch with you than your Dad?”
“Seemed to be more, but she rarely acted on it.”
“At least she was there in May.” Alice said, looking at the picture of Quincy in his long black robes and hat.
“Rituals. Meaningless rituals and traditions. Yet why am I bound to them? Why do they matter so much to me?”
“Because. You care. You kiss every kiss like it’s your first.” She grinned uncontrollably for a second. “Not that that sorta thing is bad. But, you treat every day like your last one, and you want to be remembered for your integrity and faithfulness.”
Quincy smiled briefly. “Yeah.” He turned his face away from her. “I just, feel like the world has passed me by, and I’m the only one abiding by the true things.”
She shrugged. “What does it matter what the world does, so long as you’re happy?”
Quincy stood up and stared out the window. “Because I am the seed of my father and his traits are in my blood, and I don’t want his shadow to fall on me.”
“I don’t see your father in you.” Alice said.
“It’s because he hides behind my eyelids, he lunges into my laughter, and I can’t stand it. I will not be him.” Quincy said.
“You won’t be.” Alice frowned.
“Every fear in me has that basis, that root.” Quincy turned on his heel. He seemed to be battling so much within himself. “I’ll go see my mother soon, Allie, I promise.” Quincy said. “Excuse me a minute.”
“Sure.” She took a drink from her lemonade. Closing the bathroom door securely behind him, and making sure the lock was engaged, Quincy sat upon the sink. He could almost hear his mother’s voice echoing through the years, telling him not to break the sink. “If I am my father’s son, and he didn’t have the resolve to keep his word, am I that much better than him? Can greater things be expected of me?” Quincy questioned himself, staring down at the small diamond he had pulled out from his pocket.
***
William was sitting comfortably in The Keen Bean on a plush chair drinking his favorite iced coffee. He was reading a copy of his Introduction to Philosophy book. Darryl, his manager, came out with a fresh tray of fragrant scones. “Weren’t you off an hour ago Denslie?” he asked, placing the scones in their display cases.
William lowered the book. “Indeed Sir, I was, I’m just meeting Roslyn here after she gets outta class.”
Darryl nodded.
“Boss?” William asked tentatively.
“Employee?” Darryl said, wiping his hands on his pants.
“You know I’m in a band, right?”
William’s bearded and bemused boss nodded. “You wanted to invite me to a show, right?”
William sat up. “You know you’re always invited. But what I really wanted to know, was if you’d be willing to let my band’s CD be sold here. You see, I tried going to music stores but they said they didn’t support local tragedies. I’m not sure what they meant, but I’m sure it was a misunderstanding.” William grinned.
“Yeah, well go on Buffalo Bill, what do you suggest?”
William’s lip twitched slightly. “Well,” he tried to remember everything Roslyn had suggested to him about sales. “You buy some of our CD’s, and we split the profits 60/40.”
Darryl considered it, twisting his fingers through his brown forest of chin hair. “Alright, forty percent is good for me, that’d be no problem.”
William blanched. “No I mean, you’re doing us the favor, you could have the sixty percent if you wanted it. Course, I’d be okay with paying you less.” He flashed his pearly whites.
“And I’ll be happy to pay you less if the CD’s bomb.” Darryl extended his hand and shook William’s.
“Sir, there are two things that I know beyond any shadow of a doubt. 1: The sixties are over, and the good guys lost. 2: Lipstick Trace is going to change the world.”
Something in Darryl’s smile made William think he was believed. William took out his backpack and removed ten CD’s. Darryl handed him sixty dollars from the drawer and placed Less Mic, More Jive on the counter just above the sparkly sugared scones.
William left the coffee shop smiling as he saw Roslyn roaring through the parking lot.
***
Roslyn was lying on her bed that evening, listening to her lecture from earlier that day, when she felt her phone vibrating. She rolled over wearily, Will knew not to call her for at least another hour. But when she saw Quincy’s number on her caller ID her interest peaked. Smirking, she removed her earphones and answered in a low, throaty voice. “Lady Lyssa’s pleasure line, how can we spice up your night?”
“Aw jeez,” came his response. “I was looking to talk to a guy….”
“Ass.” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know.” He sighed. “What’s up? Will isn’t here.”
“I know he’s not, I wanted to talk to you.”
She waited through his hesitation. “Well, what can I do for you?” She asked, sitting up in bed. She listened intently as he explained about his Dad, his voice was stronger than she would have expected. She knew Quin could be overly emotional at times. She took a deep breath when he finally fell silent.
“I’m sorry about this, first of all.” Roslyn said gravely, as memories of her failed father came to her mind. “It’s tough. How are you holding up?”
“Alice left a little bit ago; she was good about helping me…”
“Yeah, I bet she was.” Roslyn grinned.
Quincy cleared his throat dramatically. “But I honestly don’t think she can relate to the situation like you can. You know her Dad.”
“Well…” She shrugged. “Quin, I’ll tell you. I don’t think there was anything you ever could have done to change the man. He was the loser. Not you.”
“I always thought it had been me, I still wonder if, like…”
She shook her head and switched the phone to her other hand.
“Quin, listen. I spent years trying to figure out my excuse for a father. Trust me. He’s the one who messed up.”
Quincy was quiet.
“You’ve grown up a lot since I first met you, and it all started when you got the boot from that hellhole you were in. You’ve got your life together, and I don’t think your Dad ever did.”
“Roslyn, do you think that…I’m a completely different person than who my Dad is? Like, I won’t make his same mistakes?”
Roslyn considered his question, suspecting some other meaning behind it. “If you scorched your hand by putting it on the burner of a stove, would you do it again to see if it feels the same?”
Quincy laughed.
“I didn’t think you would Quin. And I don’t think you’ll make his mistakes, you are your own person.”
“Well, I … yeah.” Quincy stammered. “Thanks Roslyn. I knew you’d be able to help.”
“I’m gonna go now, but, does Will know this yet?
Should I be the one to tell him?” She asked.
“It’s up to you. I’m going to go to bed, it’s been a tiring day.”
“Alright, talk to you later.” She hung up the phone and considered the conversation. It didn’t come to her what Quincy was truly worried about, but that didn’t stop her from hypothesizing obsessively. She only minded not being able to read him like a book.
***
Quincy sat outside his old home until his feet began to tingle. He shook them awake and with a deep breath, he exited his car.
He approached the door and laughed. The welcome mat always had been misleading to him, he wondered if he could ever feel welcome here.
Closing his eyes, he knocked on the door and waited. He saw the curtains flutter in the window next to him, and seconds later, the large wooden door opened before him. Like the smell of lilac rushing to meet him, the memories of the last year grabbed him by his shirt collar and bombarded him with emotion.
Denise Abrams appeared before him, and there was such a reassuring calm about her that Quincy lost the words that he thought he was going to say. He gave all he had left to offer. “Hi.”
She looked him up and down, frowning slightly as she immediately saw his tattoo, yet still she seemed happy.
Quincy said “Hi,” again, not quite sure he had made himself loud enough, and not wanting to make her think he was being rude.
At once, her arms were around him, and Quincy felt his heart race at the unexpected outpouring of emotion.
Releasing him, she smoothed out his hair. “Come inside?” she asked He felt awkward, to his right was the room where the dreadful TV had been…he paused and reflected on his thoughts. Where the TV had been. The room was now occupied by a set of exercise equipment.
Once they were in the kitchen, Quincy sat down at the table and realized he could rest his elbows on the table. No longer was it being used to house coffee tins and varied refuse. “It looks so different in here, so…clean…” he was awed.
“Your father’s” she said the word distastefully, “absence has made a genuine difference.” She said.
“I can tell.” He leaned back in his seat. “Why did he leave?”
Denise didn’t answer immediately, which made Quincy feel guilty. His question had come suddenly, selfishly, and he began to regret asking it. “It’s just…I was always alone, and at least you two seemed okay…not really happy, but at least okay.”
“Your father and I are different people; I think we always have been Quincy.” She said, sitting down.
“I wonder why you married him then.” Quincy tried to remember the last time he’d had this long of a conversation with his mother; the concentration made his head pound.
Denise shook her head and clasped her hands. Perhaps unknowingly her attention fell to Quincy’s hand again.
“What is that?” She tentatively reached out for it. “This is my tattoo.” Quincy said with pride.
Denise frowned. “I hope they were clean.”
“I don’t want to sound like an asshole…” Quincy shook his head. “But where was this concern when I needed and wanted it?”
Denise frowned. “I’m sorry Quincy, no matter what happened with your father and I … I was always trying to protect you from…” Denise rubbed her hazel eyes and Quincy still noticed the tears that she was trying to stop from coming out. “…I was always trying to protect you.”
“I protected Alice that one night just before I got kicked out.”
Denise blinked hurriedly and nodded. “I know; I think it scared your father.” She said quickly, her face flushing.
Quincy shook his head, not understanding how or why it would have so scared Bad Brad.
Denise pursed her lips. “How is Alice?” Denise asked, steering the conversation away from Brad.
Quincy couldn’t help the smile that came onto his face. His mother genuinely seemed to care. How he would have loved this interest years ago!
He looked at his tattoo and then at his mother. “I think I’m going to marry her.” He admitted, and his mother was the very first person to whom he had confessed this secret ambition.
“You’re so young Quincy.” She said after a painstaking minute. “Are you sure?”
“From the very first kiss, I’ve known.”
Denise smiled. “Well, she is a very lucky woman, I’ve not told you this, but I’m proud of who you are. I could see it for years now; you’ve always been smarter than your age.”
Quincy’s thoughts were washed away like driftwood as he heard these words. It was the truest expression of love he’d ever received from his mother. She was proud of him.
When he didn’t respond she faltered, her gaze broke. “Have you asked her parents yet?”
He shook his head. “I’m resolved to do that next, today is the day.”
His mother looked at him, and Quincy truly saw her for the first time. She had changed so much, she held her head up and spoke strongly, so much different from before. “I’d like to have lunch with the two of you, Quincy; I think it would help me into this idea of you getting married.”
“Just as soon as she says yes.” Quincy said, and the ring box in his pocket had never felt more right.
***
The day seemed to pass unnaturally fast, and Quincy wondered how he was going to broach the subject with the Mr. & Mrs. Mendell. Quincy hopped onto the stoop outside their house and with a great breath, he knocked politely on the door.
He had left his mother’s house feeling uplifted and secure in himself. She was proud of him, and therefore, he was not someone to be ashamed of. In fact, the Mendells’ were the luckiest people because their daughter was going to marry a wonderful guy.
All of these happy thoughts were precariously balanced on whether or not Alice actually would accept his offer of marriage.
Brenda opened the door and seemed surprised to see Quincy.
“Hi Br…Mrs. Mendell.” Quincy decided formality would be best.
She grinned slightly. “Hello to you, Quincy.” She said, adding emphasis to her own formality. “Come on in.” she said.
“Thank you.” He grinned anxiously, listening for the sounds of Alice’s father.
“Alice isn’t home yet Quin, she’s still in her last afternoon class.” Brenda mentioned, straightening a picture in the hallway that Quincy had just absentmindedly set off center.
“I understand that, and it’s actually you and your husband I want to talk to.” He was right on it now, he could feel the secret rushing to his lips, and he could see himself asking the Mendells’ for their blessing in his decision.
Quincy wasn’t expecting to see Brenda frown. “I’m sorry, bu