Paper Bags and Plastic Hearts

“Mom, come on, just hear me out!” I whined.

“Farrah, I’ve already told you a thousand times. I am not letting you get any part of your body pierced!” She huffed, walking back and forth to her closet and laying out different outfits on top of her bed.

“But it’s my body, mom!” I crossed my arms. “It’s not like I’m asking you to get something pierced."

“I honestly don’t understand why you’d wanna mark your body like that!” She shook her head, pulling out a mini skirt from the closet and taking it to her bed.

“It’s not a tattoo, mom,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“It still leaves a mark. Your skin will be perforated,” she argued, dragging out the last word.

“But this is something I want!”

She sighed. “Farrah, do you even know how dirty those tattoo and piercing studios are? You can get seriously infected.”

“That’s not true. I’ve been doing some research and found out that studios these days are cleaner than an average doctor’s office,” I reasoned wisely.

My mom shot me a disbelieving look before going back to her closet.

“What are you even doing?” I asked annoyed, eyeing the massive amount of clothes that were scattered on her bed.

“Archie’s taking me to a restaurant tonight and I need to find something fancy,” she replied, holding up two dresses in her hands and examining them carefully.

I sighed in frustration. “What the hell do you see in this guy?”

“I happen to like him a lot, young lady,” she said, glaring briefly at me before going back to her clothes.

“Seriously? The guy looks like the spokesperson for anabolic steroids and his name is Archie, for Christ’s sake!”

“And your point is….?”

Hm. She was not taking me seriously, was she?

“Mother, you are dating a man named Archie.”

“Yeah, well, in his defense, his full name is Archibald,” she replied.

“Oh, that’s much better,” I shot sarcastically.

My mom hung her head back and let another loud sigh escape her lips. “Don’t you have anything better to do than speak ill of my boyfriend?”

“Yes, but you won’t let me,” I muttered.

“Ugh, forget it, Farrah! I am not going to allow some stranger to ram a piece of metal through my daughter’s skin!”

I grunted. “But you let me get my ears pierced when I was only two!”

“That’s different and you know it,” she shot. “Almost every girl gets their ears pierced at a very young age.”

“Exactly! So why can’t I get my eyebrow pierced?”

“Farrah, please,” she whined. “I don’t even know why we’re back on this subject. I thought you’d let it go!”

“Mom, I wouldn’t insist so much on something unless I was completely sure of it and I am sure of this. I want an eyebrow piercing and all I need is your consent.”

"Farrah...."

"Did you know that tons of teenagers get pierced without their parents knowing? Be thankful I'm not one of them. I'm asking for your permission," I stated calmly.

She frowned, throwing a black strapless dress on her bed. She seemed to be taking what I said into consideration. “But you won’t be the same anymore.”

“What?” I looked confused. “Of course I will! You think I’m gonna change just because of a pierced eyebrow?”

She sighed long and loud. “I don't know......You really want this?”

“Yes.”

“But you’ll have to spend money.”

“I’m well aware of that.” I crossed my arms.

“And do you have the money?”

I furrowed my brows. “Mom, I work. Of course I have the money.”

She narrowed her eyes at me before her whole expression softened. “You know what? Fine. It’s your body, it’s your life. But you know that piercings require a lot of TLC, right? Otherwise you’ll get a massive infection. And if you do get an infection, you better not mention the word ‘piercing’ to me ever again, you hear me?”

I bit back a smile. “So I have your approval?”

She pursed her lips and stared at me intently for about five seconds before sighing out in defeat. “Yes."

I smiled widely.

"But how does this work, exactly? Do you need like a written consent or something?”

“I don’t really know. I’ll have to see.” I continued smiling idiotically. “Thank you, mom!” I squealed, throwing my arms around her, which nearly made her lose her balance.

“Wow, the last time you hugged me like this was when I gave you that iPod for your thirteenth birthday,” she laughed, patting my back. "You only like me when I give you things?"

"Of course not, mom," I laughed. Then I detached myself from her and smiled widely. “Thank you so much.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved her hand. “But please please take good care of yourself. You wouldn’t want to have your face deformed, now would you?”

I chuckled. “I will, I promise.”

“Okay, now that I’ve allowed you to do this, you’re gonna have to do something for me,” she said, crossing her arms.

“What?” I asked, arching a brow.

“You’re gonna help me pick an outfit for tonight.”

__________________________________________________________

It was a cloudy day that afternoon. It looked like it was going to rain, but it wouldn’t. I hated when the sky teased us like that. I enjoyed rain very much and it was a bummer that all we had was a gray sky with no sun. It was depressing, actually.

Earlier that day, I had gone to pick up Andy for work. I had a bit of trouble though because I’d stupidly forgotten that I was supposed to turn left on his street and I ended up turning right. Idiot me. Fixing my mistake took a bit longer than expected because I had to wait for a few cars to pass by so I could finally make a U turn towards Andy’s road.

Once I’d finally made it to his house, I saw him sitting on his porch steps waiting for me. He was wearing all black, as usual. It was cold and he was wearing a form fitted hoodie and a black beanie. I had stared a bit as I saw him coming towards my car but I’d quickly shaken off any stupid thoughts in my mind. Yeah, he was cute. Handsome. Good-looking. Admirable. Well-fitted.

Okay, I’ll stop with the adjectives.

The whole ride over to work, Andy kept making fun of my hideous singing abilities. We were sort of doing an American Idol skit where we judged each other on our vocal performances. Andy threw me a few evil remarks in a terrible British accent, imitating Simon Cowell. It was hilarious. When he sang, though, I couldn’t come up with anything bad to say. His singing voice was actually really good.

It was now our break time at work and we were sitting on the ground rather than the tables. I was munching on some mini pretzels while Andy was chewing on a big wad of bubble gum, trying hard to blow big bubbles but failed miserably at his attempts. After three minutes, he finally got bored and just spit the gum onto the concrete.

“Classy,” I chuckled, eyeing the small pink mass in front of us.

“Right?” He grinned smugly before reaching for something in his pockets.

I shook my head. “So guess what,” I said, taking a bite off another pretzel.

“What?” He asked, now holding up a cigarette in between his lips and lighting it. He took a long drag before glancing briefly at me then at the ground.

Yeah, he was a smoker. But it really didn’t bother me that much. At least his breath didn’t reek like Mrs. DeLuca’s. No, his was actually a weird mixture of cigarettes and mint. Oddly pleasant.

“I’m getting my eyebrow pierced.” I grinned.

He looked surprised. “No shit, your mom let you?”

“Yep. I was quite persuasive,” I stated proudly.

He chuckled. “Awesome. So when you gonna do it?”

“I don’t know.” I laughed. “How does it work? I mean, do I need my mom there with me or something?”

“Well, like I said, you could easily pass for eighteen. If they think you’re eighteen, they’ll pierce you no problem. At least, that’s what happened to me. I was fifteen when I got these,” he pointed to his snakebites.

“Huh.” I nodded pensively.

Andy took another drag before looking at me. “Want me to come with you?”

I furrowed my brows. “Would you?”

“Sure. If by any chance they can tell you’re a minor, I’ll just tell them I’m your guardian.” He laughed as another smug grin reached his lips. “Plus, I wanna be there to see the look on your face.”

I shoved him playfully. “If you’re gonna tease me about it, then don’t even bother coming.”

He laughed, flicking some ashes on the ground before placing the cancer stick back between his lips. “I won’t tease.”

“Hmm.” I shot him a disbelieving look, but quickly replaced it with a smirk on my lips. “When do we go?”

“Tonight, if you want,” he suggested with a shrug.

I nodded, eating another pretzel. “Okay.” Then I paused, glancing at him. “Does it hurt too bad?”

“No. But then again, I have a high tolerance for pain.” He smirked.

My eyes widened a little. “Shit, it’s painful, isn’t it? Maybe I shouldn’t go through with this….”

He snorted in laughter. “Relax, I’ll be there.”

“Yeah well, I’m scared you won’t be much of a help.”

He laughed, puffing out a smoke ring. “I’ll be as helpful as you want, alright?”

I smiled crookedly. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Promise?”

“Would you like a pinky promise?” He teased.

“Not necessary. I don’t do pinky promises.”

“Oh, good. Neither do I.” He shook his head.

I laughed a little, watching the smoke twirling around in the air and then disappearing.

“What’s so great about smoking, anyway?” I wondered aloud, which had Andy shooting me a weird look. His lips curled into a smile as he puffed out more rings.

“It’s calming,” he replied, as if it were obvious.

I nodded. “Know what else is calming? Baths.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “Baths?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “It’s relaxing and it doesn’t affect your health.”

He rolled his eyes. “So everytime I feel the urge to smoke, I should take a bath?”

“Yeah.”

“What if I’m not home?”

I frowned. “Then do something else.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “No, thanks.”

I rolled my eyes. “You wanna die?”

He shrugged, taking another drag. “I’m not scared.”

“Death doesn’t scare you? Seriously?” I asked, bewildered.

He smiled. “No, it doesn’t.”

“That’s messed up,” I muttered, biting a small piece off another mini pretzel.

“It’s unavoidable, Farrah. We’re all destined to die,” he said calmly.

“I guess.” I stared at the ground. “But smoking only makes you die earlier.”

“If it’s my time, it’s my time.” He shrugged indifferently.

I chuckled, resting my chin on my knees. “You’re pretty morbid.”

He grinned slyly before throwing his now tiny bit of cigarette on the ground and stepping on it. “I’ve been told.”