Tattoos: A Novel Read Online Free Page A

reminded me of Gran.
    “I’ve got to shower and get out in that mess of weather,” I said, scratching the stubble on my chin.
    “Yes, wash that horrible smell of smoke and sour beer off you,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
    Less than thirty minutes later I was on my way to the hospital. I knew it would have been smarter to take the bus since it was like a monsoon outside, but I’d wasted too much time having the tarot card reading. I didn’t have the luxury of time to wait for a bus. I grabbed plan B, my beat up racing bike that had been converted to a single speed bike. I’d won it in a bet a few years back.  
    Racing bikes were supposed to be the fastest ones out there, hence the name, but this bike wasn’t anything like that, because the frame was slightly misshapen after an unfortunate accident with a pick-up truck. The tires were bald, most of the padding was gone from the seat and since it was one speed it meant it didn’t have a freewheel, making it impossible to coast on it. Meaning you had to constantly pedal to keep it going. It made for a hell of a workout, but in the rain it was the worst thing in the world because the faster you went the worse the visibility became. Even with swimming goggles I had a tough time seeing, not to mention that I looked like a complete tool wearing them.
    Ten minutes later, that had actually felt like a couple of hours of torture, I rolled into the St. Martins hospital for Children parking lot. After I’d locked up my ride, which seemed kind of dumb since no one in their right mind would have wanted to steal it, I strode through the emergency entrance of the hospital. My soaked Converses squeaked with every step I took. I knew I was leaving a trail of water in my wake, but there wasn’t much I could do about it.  
    I made my way to the linen room, using a couple of towels to dry my hair and face. My clothes would have to air dry, but at least I’d have a coverall over me while they did. That way I wasn’t completely frozen in the climate controlled environment, which always seemed to be too cold for my taste.  
    Despite my attempts at drying off I knew I still looked like a drowned rat. Water dripped from my hair onto my coveralls and my wet clothes were already soaked through in patches. Not one of my best days to say the least. It didn’t help that I found my thoughts drifting back to the matter of the Tower card that I’d pulled. I didn’t want it to take me down, but I couldn’t help but think back to a time when things had gone terribly wrong for me. I shook my head, unwilling to waste anymore time in the past. The past was best left where it was.
    I made my way to the third floor Pediatric Cancer ward. I opened the utility closet that was just outside of the ward with my personal set of keys. I grabbed the utility cart, locked up and moved down the hall, still dimly lit. I checked the time and was shocked to see that I’d actually made it to work on time with a few minutes to spare. I pushed the wheeled bucket down the hall to the bathrooms, the place I knew Chip, the day supervisor, would want done first.  
    It wasn’t brain science and the routine was easy enough to learn. Chip was a good guy to work for but for some reason, there seemed to be a revolving door of people coming and going. Nobody really lasted very long, in fact next to Chip I was one of the longest running employees, having worked there for just over a year.
    When I was halfway down the hall I notice room 312 was empty. The bed was stripped and all the pictures, balloons and get well cards were gone. Though I’d witnessed more than my fair share of those kind of scenarios over the past months, it never failed to hit me hard in the guts. So much so that it made it hard to breathe. Because none of it made sense, why the hell would a child with almost no experience with life have to get cancer. It wasn’t fair that innocents had to suffer.  
    At times the anger and resentment for a world