I sat alone in the hospital waiting room, of course, waiting - hence the name waiting room - for results for any cancer.
My phone vibrated.
I jumped, the sudden ticklish vibrations of my phone scaring me. I pulled it out of my pocket and saw I got a text.
From unknown:
Hey Jenni-fer has the results come back yet?
I stared at my phone, confused. I had no idea who this number was and how do they know I'm at the hospital waiting for test results for cancer.
Who is this?
Immediately I got a message back.
Unknown:
U know me Jen, we talked last night in ur truck. I'm the hottie with sandy hair.
"Jon?" I said out loud, flinching, looking around I checked to see anyone heard me. If they did they didn't say. I sighed a breath of relief.
Ohhhh Jon. Sorry hi and no they haven't, I'm still waiting for them.
As I waited for a reply I looked at my shoulder, and all the tattoos there, both my shoulders were covered in them, my side, thighs, all easy places to cover up. My tattoos were all clustered above my elbows, well not clustered and there was at least two on my left and one on my right.
So . . . what r u up to after this?
I looked at my phone and smiled. Nothing at all.
:-) will u meet me at the park?
Sure, I'll text u when its over k?
Sure thang sweetie ;-)
~~~~
I walked into the park, my winter coat warm as I walked, the snow crunching under my boots.
It had snowed 10 inches this morning, layering the ground with a white, crunchy, blanket.
I leaned against the statue into the middle of the park, looking around for any tall, hot, sandy haired guys that look like twigs.
"Jen?"
I looked over my shoulder to find Jonathan there on the other the side of the statued bull, leaning on the corner, smirking like a dumbass.
I unintentionally smiled. "Jon."
". . . so want to go to the café? Get something to warm us up?" He asked, holding his elbow out and I interlocked my arm with his.
"Something warm sounds really exceptional right now."
He laughed as we left the park.
"Where you born here?" He asked after awhile, looking down at me.
I shrugged. "I was born in . . . in . . . the ocean? I don't know, I was born in a plane . . ."
"Wow . . . sounds exciting."
"Sure was . . .definitely when they had to chose which year I was born in."
"What do you mean?"
"I was born on New Years Eve. So they had to decide if I was born in 88 or 89 when they got off . . . they went with 88."
"New Years? Plane? Huh, cool."
I shrugged as we entered the café. "I guess . . ."
"Well, it sounds more exciting then mine, I was born in a hospital in Cincinnati Ohio, in 1985."
"Exciting stuff." I said as I took my coat off, then stared at my jacket, contemplating if I should take it off. Jon sat down in the booth, chuckling. I shrugged, pulling it off.
Jonathan's jaw dropped. "Holy shit."
I looked at him, mystified, sitting down. "What?"
"I wouldn't expect you to have tattoos, well that many anyway."
I looked at my left bicep, then at him, and shrugged. "I got them a few places on my body."
"How'd you get so many?"
"I . . . made some bad choices as a teen . . ."
"Like . . .?"
"Normal bad kid stuff . . . like drugs, smoking, drinking, this crap." I pointed at my shoulder. "I got into fights, I was messed up."
"How'd it start?"
"My parents were going through hard times, and I couldn't handle it, so one day they were at it again and I just broke down, so I desperately looked for something to help, I found it in the wrong places."
"Are you . . .?"
"No," I sighed. "At 18 I fixed myself up as hard as it was . . . I made it."
"That's great." He said as a waitress came up to us and we ordered out drinks, when she left I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck, uncomfortable. He looked at me. "I didn't have a great teenage years either, Jen, I was out all the time, fought in street fights, smoked, drank, and I still have a really bad drinking problem, but I found something as my anchor."
"And that is?"
"Wrestling."
"Wrestling." I repeated, somehow not surprised, maybe it was because his body that ruined the surprise. "Like WWE?"
"Yeah, you watch it?"
"I used to, I haven't since . . . 2007, I was busy with all the getting off drugs and smoking shit that year." I looked at the waitress as she approached with our drinks I smiled. "Thanks," I looked at her name tag. "Izzy."
She smiled at me happily. "You're welcome!"
I watched as she walked away, a new spring in her step, I continued smiling.
"So . . ." Jon said, regaining my attention, I looked at him. "Cancer free?"
I nodded, taking a sip of my peppermint coffee. "Yeah, I am."
He clapped, still staring at my tattoos. "Yay."
"Why are you staring at them?" I asking, chuckling. "They're just tattoos."
He looked me in the eye. "I just can't . . . imagine you as a bad person, you're so nice and funny."
I smiled. "Sometimes the most happiness people are the saddest." I took another drink of my coffee. "The saddest people always seem to be the nicest. I've heard it all before."
Jon stared at me, his coffee mug resting under his bottom lip. "Well its true."
I shrugged and nodded, looking out the window. "Yeah . . . but I try to see myself as a normal person, or at least blend in, because no one is normal, everyone is different." I smiled embarrassingly, looking down. "Sorry, my mom likes that kind of stuff . . . "
"Its okay."
I still didn't look at him, studying the world outside. "Do you remember Robin Williams?"
"The actor from The Night in the Museum? The president with the horse?"
"Mhm. He once said All it takes is one beautiful fake smile to hide an injured soul and they will never notice how broken you really are. I think its true . . . it is all it takes to hide a broken spirit."
"So do I."
My phone when off, and I dug into my coat, pulling it out of my pocket.
Zach:
Jeeeeeen I need heeeeelp there's this really old guy called The End I can't find him!
I giggled.
If he's old then u should be able to get em
Zach:
I CAN'T HELP!!!!!
"What's so funny?" Jon asked as I laughed, I looked up at him, smiling.
"My brother is begging for my assistance with an old guy on his game . . . its really abusing his ego because, in his words," I did air quotations, " 'really old guy that's beating my butt'."
He chuckled. "What game is this?"
I hesitated frowning, thinking, trying to recall the title. "Um, Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater. And he has been needing my help killing The Pain and The Fear now its The End and it better be the end of him asking me to kill these "The" people."
He laughed. "What's with the The?"
I shrugged, standing up, grabbing my coat and jacket. "Hell if I know. Well, I shall be going . . . talk to you later . . . sorry about the interruption, I'll make sure I'll turn my phone off next time for this 'kill this The whoever person again."
He got up, putting his coat on, leaving money on the table, I left the tip. He walked out with me, we headed back to the park. I looked up at him, noticing his hat finally, I don't know how I didn't before, it was a black snow hat.
"You like hats?"
"Yes I do."
"Hmm cool."
"I guess."
I smiled as I looked around, feeling like we were being watched I turned around, standing in front of him, smiling up at him. "Well it was nice seeing you again, Jonathan, bye."
He smiled down at me. "Bye Jennifer, good luck with The End."
I chuckled, spinning around, walking away. "Thanks," I called, "I'm probably gonna need it."
~~~~~
I sat on the couch, controller in my hand, staring at the TV as Snake looked for The End. It was hard. I had been tranquilized and sent back to the Graniny Gorki Lab three times and I was on my forth try when my phone rang.
I paused the game, answering it. "Hello?" I unpaused it, returning to the game. "Who is this?"
"Hi Jenny." Jon's voice greeted as I 'died', I growled, muttering under my breath before I yelled.
"Fuck!"
"Whoa, calm down, Jen, what's wrong?"
"The End is frickin difficult!"
He bursted out laughing. "You can't get it either?"
"No . . ." I grumbled as I let my aggravation out on a poor soldier, even after I killed him with a real gun I stood over him shooting him with tranquilizer darts, it saved ammo . . . ammo I was saving for The End. "Die random person die."
He chuckled. "What are you doing?"
"Shooting a dead person I already killed. Oh more, yay. Die!"
I changed my gun to a machine gun and rained down hell on the soldiers, smiling wickedly.
"I feel bad for those soldiers." Jon said sincerely, most likely hearing my rapid shooting. I laughed evilly.
"Ha ha. Its the end for them . . . Ooh a dog." I shot it with a tranquilizer. It yelped and collapsed onto the ground.
"You killed a dog?" He exclaimed over the phone, sounding amused but also a little . . . grim.
"No! I used a tranquilizer gun. It's just napping so it won't kill me . . . Hey!"
"What?" He laughed.
"A guy pushed me into the electrical fence! When he's done and falls to the ground I'm killing the person who did that."
And I did.
"Ha! Revenge!"
He just laughed. My phone vibrated with a text. I paused the game again and put my phone on speaker, seeing it was from Heather, my friend from college, it was a Facebook text. I read her message.
OMG Jen u won't BELIEVE this!
After that she sent me a link, I tapped on it and my jaw dropped my eyes as big as saucers. In big bold letters above a picture of me and Jonathan in the park read:
DEAN AMBROSE AND MYSTERY GIRL has the lunatic fringe found a new girlfriend?
"Jen, you there?"
"Jon . . ." I whispered, my voice uneven.
"Yeah?" He responded, worriedly.
"Who's Dean Ambrose?"