Renn and I passed the five-minute walk from Starbucks to the studio in companionable silence. There was a lot for my brain to unpack from the previous hour. The wall provided by our working relationship was crumbling, becoming closer to dust each time we interacted.
I smiled as we reached the entrance. Studio Obscurum had made a nod to the season with a black wreath on the door, wrapped in silver ribbon with tiny white skull ornaments adorning it.
“I’m not sure who would enjoy that wreath more—the Addams family or The Cure.”
Renn smirked. “Honestly, if I’d had my way, we would have a bunch of red and green twinkle lights around the door next to a four-foot Santa, but Archie said we should keep it pretty chill, kind of dark, so we didn’t—let me see if I remember his exact phrase—‘give people the impression that we’re not total badasses.’”
“Ahhh. You wouldn’t want people to find out what a big ol’ Santa-loving marshmallow you are.” I playfully punched him on the shoulder as we walked into the space and he grabbed his arm like I had just gone Hulk smash on him.
“Ow…us marshmallows are delicate flowers.” I stood in the entryway while Renn woke up the lights, fans, and sound system and began preparing his station, the familiarity of these tasks evident in his seamless movements. “Seriously, the success of the studio is my priority, and if that takes a certain aesthetic, then it’s fine with me.”
“Well, if you’re ever jonesing for some disgustingly traditional and over-the-top Christmas kitsch, you should stop by Hal’s. Zach’s in charge of decorating and he goes crazy every year.”
“I remember Zach from the fundraiser. That’s your friend who…uh…helped get you back to LA, right?” I appreciated Renn being careful, not saying explicitly he remembered Zach was the person who’d rescued me from Boston.
“Um hmm. He’ll be Hal’s official owner in a few weeks. Anyway, he loves the holidays so always goes overboard. I’ve basically been tending bar in Santa’s workshop since Thanksgiving. Feel free to check it out whenever.” Renn’s eyes snapped up. I hadn’t meant it to seem like I was asking him out. It was one thing to run into him by chance, or exchange a few—okay, more than a few—non-tattoo-related texts and DMs, but we’d never made a firm plan to see each other outside the studio. Still, the idea of him visiting me at Hal’s, seeing me in my other life, was undeniably appealing.
Renn eyed me levelly, deep voice replying slowly. “I just might stop by.”
“Okay…cool.”
I felt intoxicated by the draw of him. And just like the other times I’d been near him, I let myself revel in the pull between us as his admiring gaze swept over me. But there was also a teensy part of me that found the sensation worrying, reminiscent of the drug-like hold Henri had had on me when I’d confused attraction with willing suffocation. Henri’s voice may have been relegated to the fringes of my mind these days, but I still heard it often enough to know it was there, like a scorpion waiting to strike.
As though sensing my inner conflict, Renn blinked away our stare-down and switched topics casually. “So, you’ve met my brothers. Sorry Robbie was rude.”
I huffed. “You do realize I’m a bartender? I handle rude douchecanoes all the time. Except those frat boy idiots don’t have Robbie’s excuse of being an actual child. He was fine. Besides, I really like kids, even though I don’t get the chance to be around them much.”
“Yeah, that makes sense, working in a bar. What about siblings? Nieces or nephews?” Renn was engaged in the pseudo-yoga routine I’d seen him do several times before and during our sessions. Pre-tattoo warm-ups or whatever. That was why he missed me flinching at his benign question.
“Um…none of the above. Only child.” I plastered on a neutral smile.
“Well, that’s probably why you like kids. Because you don’t have to be around them often enough to be driven slowly insane.” He grinned and stretched an arm across his chest.
“Do Robbie and Gage drive you crazy?” Renn had been so precious with little Sloth and Turtle.
“I mean, sometimes. Like, Gage is obsessed with the movieCars. He literally will watch it five times in a row. When I tell him goodnight, he always wants me to say it using my ‘Mater voice.’ And Robbie is just getting to that age where he’s straight-up disgusting, so his room always reeks like I imagine the inside of a bag of stale farts and chopped onions would. I’ve been thinking of hunting for mushrooms in there.”
I chuckled as he scrunched his nose like he was smelling something foul.
“Honestly, Sadie, they can be challenging, but I wouldn’t want you to think I don’t love the little monsters. It’s a fairly good balance between love and insanity.” He switched arms, stretching his left one over the melting heart logo on his Studio Obscurum tee.
I had wondered in the coffee shop about the relationship between the brothers, and with Renn’s mention of bedtime, as well as the regular assault of a stank tween bedroom, the picture was becoming less hazy. “So you live with your brothers? And you’re…in charge?”
Renn looked taken aback for a moment, and I knew I’d stumbled on a delicate subject. “Uh…Pete is around. He helps sometimes, like you saw him pick them up earlier. But the boys live with me, and it’s mostly me who takes care of them.”
Interesting. I knew Thomas had passed away, but what about their mom? There was certainly more to the story, but Renn didn’t offer it, and I didn’t push. I understood not wanting to expose yourself. That was why I hadn’t told him the real reason I liked being around kids so much.
I shuffled my feet as Renn fluttered around the studio, grabbing a folding table and rearranging some things on the shelves. As he prepped, my mind replayed the scene from earlier, the love clear between the brothers. That was what all children deserved.
My grandma had tried. But even as a preschooler, I could sense her simmering resentment. As an adult looking back, I almost sympathized. I mean, one minute, she’s a year past retirement, finally getting to socialize and travel, pursue her hobbies after a thankless career as an executive secretary to some real estate fuckwit. The next minute, she’s saddled with raising her only granddaughter.
I thought about Renn scolding Robbie and Gage that morning. I would never have found myself in the boys’ situation because I had never slept over at friends’ houses. Never joined a scout troop or attended backyard birthday parties. I’d known better than to ask for things that required extra effort on Grandma’s part. From a young age, I’d understood that the way to make Grandma happy was to inconvenience her as little as possible, and as I got older, she remained as absent from my life as I’d tried to be from hers. She hadn’t hassled me about grades or made me do chores. Never cheered me at a track meet or asked about dates. There’d always been food, and birthday presents, and money to buy shoes or go to the movies, but never more than the basics. Just enough to keep things copesetic. When I’d left for college, her relief had been palpable.
I didn’t understand what I’d been missing. I just thought that, with Henri, I’d found it.
Poor, sweet Sadie. All alone in the world. I can be your family, darling.
Eleven months of therapy had helped clarify things. Henri hadn’t physically abused me, but he’d played on every insecurity. He’d filled the void where Grandma’s unconditional love should have been. And he’d filled it with judgment, criticism, and the withholding of affection.
