Saints of Youth
1
It’s safe to say that when it comes to being stubborn, Frank’s got it hands down. Ever since he was born his parents couldn’t get him to see their side of anything. When he was seven, he wanted to wear a dress to school. And he whined and cried when his Mother tried so desperately to tell her son that boys just didn’t do that but he didn’t want to hear it. Instead he went to school that day stomping with pride over the fact he had one the argument. So when he was sixteen he was dead set on getting a tattoo.
“But honey, what if you get a job as a lawyer, or something very professional where you have to have bare skin?” Frank rolled his eyes and laughed that his own Mother even thought he could be “professional”
.
“What about when you’re older son, at my age any old thing looks nasty on your body, everything really.” And Frank, although disgusted with his Father’s innuendo had looked him dead in the eye and told him that getting old didn’t bother him and that he’ll only love the tattoo more.
So after about twenty times getting caught trying to sneak out and get this tattoo, they came to a compromise. Frank could get his tattoo, when he was 18 of course. And those two years were the longest years of Frank’s life, him designing different ideas and thinking of a place to put his beloved image.
And that all leads up to today, Frank was walking home from work at Abercrombie and Fitch, trying so hard to get the smell of today’s new scents to come off his clothes. So while he didn’t want to go home smelling like a male prostitute, he decided to go take a walk down by the tattoo parlor.
He was almost a regular there, if you minus the fact he hasn’t even gotten his tattoo yet. He was still $160 short of his total, and that would take another three months pay to afford that, he felt he was working for peanuts with his measly job.
“Hey Frank, are you actually going to set up an appointment yet?” The owner Ray joked.
“Nah, I’m just gonna keep you on your toes, dude.” Frank smiled and waved at the girl who was currently setting up some equipment.
“Hey Leesha, how’s married life?” Frank had questioned.
“Oh just wonderful, if you can even get my lazy ass husband out of our house.” She blew her hair out of her face and sat down on the counter.
“I told you he doesn’t leave the house, he’s like an introvert.” Ray had commented.
“Yeah well, that being said I’ve got to work almost double my hours these days.” She had sighed, Frank could make out the dark circles under her eyes. Her arms flopped to her sides and she looked almost a bit helpless.
“Frank, I really would appreciate it if you went to church with me this weekend.” She had given him pleading eyes.
“Leesha, you know that I had enough of that after middle school.” Frank complained, shivering as he remember the way churches used to freak him out.
“Oh please, you’re the only Catholic I know these days, I need some support, and you need to help me pray that I don’t kill my husband for not getting off his ass.” Ray laughed as she swatted at his arm.
“Ray, what about you?”
“Dude, don’t look at me, you know I have my own mental scarring from my wife’s side of the family.”
Frank had sighed and wiped his face. “Fine, I’ll go, but I’m not promising you any miracles.”
She had rubbed his back and thanked him. “Hey, if Mikey makes it out the front door, it will be a miracle.”
“But honey, what if you get a job as a lawyer, or something very professional where you have to have bare skin?” Frank rolled his eyes and laughed that his own Mother even thought he could be “professional”
.
“What about when you’re older son, at my age any old thing looks nasty on your body, everything really.” And Frank, although disgusted with his Father’s innuendo had looked him dead in the eye and told him that getting old didn’t bother him and that he’ll only love the tattoo more.
So after about twenty times getting caught trying to sneak out and get this tattoo, they came to a compromise. Frank could get his tattoo, when he was 18 of course. And those two years were the longest years of Frank’s life, him designing different ideas and thinking of a place to put his beloved image.
And that all leads up to today, Frank was walking home from work at Abercrombie and Fitch, trying so hard to get the smell of today’s new scents to come off his clothes. So while he didn’t want to go home smelling like a male prostitute, he decided to go take a walk down by the tattoo parlor.
He was almost a regular there, if you minus the fact he hasn’t even gotten his tattoo yet. He was still $160 short of his total, and that would take another three months pay to afford that, he felt he was working for peanuts with his measly job.
“Hey Frank, are you actually going to set up an appointment yet?” The owner Ray joked.
“Nah, I’m just gonna keep you on your toes, dude.” Frank smiled and waved at the girl who was currently setting up some equipment.
“Hey Leesha, how’s married life?” Frank had questioned.
“Oh just wonderful, if you can even get my lazy ass husband out of our house.” She blew her hair out of her face and sat down on the counter.
“I told you he doesn’t leave the house, he’s like an introvert.” Ray had commented.
“Yeah well, that being said I’ve got to work almost double my hours these days.” She had sighed, Frank could make out the dark circles under her eyes. Her arms flopped to her sides and she looked almost a bit helpless.
“Frank, I really would appreciate it if you went to church with me this weekend.” She had given him pleading eyes.
“Leesha, you know that I had enough of that after middle school.” Frank complained, shivering as he remember the way churches used to freak him out.
“Oh please, you’re the only Catholic I know these days, I need some support, and you need to help me pray that I don’t kill my husband for not getting off his ass.” Ray laughed as she swatted at his arm.
“Ray, what about you?”
“Dude, don’t look at me, you know I have my own mental scarring from my wife’s side of the family.”
Frank had sighed and wiped his face. “Fine, I’ll go, but I’m not promising you any miracles.”
She had rubbed his back and thanked him. “Hey, if Mikey makes it out the front door, it will be a miracle.”