Chapter Seven � All Things Must End

 

So I had grown accustomed, again, to partnering with Cheech at Skin Graphics. I returned to settling into a familiar routine with him, as well as many our friends we had had before, getting new tattoos, as well as some old ones freshened up. Not unlike riding a bicycle, I easily returned to tattooing after so many years. I had been here before, and things were going as they had before.

            But, they were different this time also. After a few months, I realized the difference from before. Years ago, Skin Graphics had been much like a partnership, being that it had mostly been me and Cheech running things. Now, we had Lady Kimberly to contend with as well with our day-to-day dealings, as well as the rest of the family that occupied the back part of the building that was their home. From what had once been only us, meaning Cheech and I, it was now a group and team effort. This had its benefits as well as drawbacks. It was great to hang out and feel like part of a family, but, as I have learned not only here but in many circumstances, when working in family business and you are not a family member, one very quickly realizes who the outsiders are. Rather than the focus being on the tattoo shop, it was on the household (understandably so) but it was always unavoidable for Cheech and, to an extent, myself. Slowly, I could see it affecting Cheech, in that he had very little time for himself.

            There were also complications with the house itself. Though the front of the main floor had been renovated and separated as a separate address, the household occupied most of the real estate. And the rest of the house was sorely in need of repairs and renovations. A contractor had been to the house before renovations to the shop were done, and he had abandoned the project he had been working on in this house. It eventually came to light that the work he had performed was not done properly, and there were now some issues with the structure of the house itself. Though the shop was fine, the rest was badly in need of repair, and most savings had gone into getting the shop open. This led to a lengthy threats and actions of legal proceedings, which I am unsure of the outcome. This left many repairs and renovation projects up to Cheech, who had little time for much else, between running a household, business, and work as a mechanic. There were instances that he had not slept for 24 hours, as he had simply been too busy trying to get to many things done. Needless to say, this caused much tension between Cheech and Lady Kimberly and the rest of their family.

            I too was being affected by the stress in their household, as I often had little choice but to not only be a witness to such events, but to become involved in them as well. Lady Kimberly and Cheech had begun arguing after a few months of dealing with this chaos in their home, and eventually this led up to one big fight with the end result being Cheech deciding he was leaving the house, leaving Lady Kimberly, and taking much of his tattoo stuff with him. I came to the shop one day to hear of all this happening the evening before, and though my equipment and stuff was still, left in the shop, almost all of Cheech’s stuff had left with him. I was able to keep my current appointments, which were few, but I was unsure how long it could go on. I bit my lip and hoped for the best, a theme I would continue for a while. After a couple tense days, and a few long conversations, Cheech came back to Lady Kimberly, but I knew things would no longer be the same.

            As well, the tattooing scene in Welland had change as well. Since Skin Graphics had last been open, new shops and talents had emerged, and we were in competition with these shops for business. We were able to hold our own with clients and business, but I still maintained my other dead-end job at a mall working in a kiosk to be sure the bills were paid. I certainly wasn’t able to tattoo exclusively, as I wished to do. As well, Welland is not a prosperous city, and it has declined significantly since then, so there were not many people wanting to afford to be tattooed. I say wanting to afford, as most wanted tattoos, but everyone wanted to be my friend and expect a deal from me. This isn’t to say that I value money over creativity, but a starving artist can’t be expected to starve all the time. I felt stifled, as though I was not able to further myself where I was creatively, and was simply going through the motions: the usual tattoos of names, roses, various cartoon characters, and many other very familiar tattoo motifs. And that was it. I had been here before, and was starting to question where I was going, if anywhere.

            The stress in the household and Skin Graphics slowly bore down on me as well. I no longer felt comfortable there, and found it difficult to work at times. I was not as enthusiastic as I had once been here with Cheech, and the tension between him, Lady Kimberly, and among the rest of the family would display itself occasionally, leaving me wondering when the next time Cheech would be gone, or if we would close shop that day, or if we would close and never open again. I began to dread being there, and found excuses to not be. Eventually, I showed up one day, to be pulled aside by Cheech. He wasn’t happy with me, and felt I wasn’t pulling my weight (which I wasn’t), and told me I should take a month off to “think about things”, but I could tell by his tone that it was the beginning of an end. I didn’t mince words, and left. On leaving the shop, I went down the street and noticed a sign on a neighbouring vacant storefront:

 

TATTOO ARTIST WANTED

 

Underneath it was a telephone number. I wrote it down and pocketed it.

            A few weeks later I returned to Skin Graphics to speak with Cheech. I arrived to be greeted by Cheech and Lady Kimberly, and informed that I was not allowed to take my tattoo stuff out of the shop, and that they now claimed ownership to. There were justified in this action by claiming that they had noticed that money had been going missing, and that they suspected I was the culprit, and was perhaps a closet drug addict, supporting my habit. I did not do this, and, as an epilogue to this part of the story, I heard from sources close to these two, that they had both been pocketing money from the till behind each other’s backs, and using me as a likely excuse to cover up their own actions. They also eventually split up and Skin Graphics is no more, once again. I was disgusted with the accusation, and argued that they were unable to do this, but they claimed to have “proof” and were therefore not budging. Cheech also went so far as to say that if I still wanted to tattoo so badly “why don’t ya go down the street and get a job?” Just to piss him off, and to vindicate myself, I did. I joined the Dark Side, which I eventually discovered was to be the name of this tattoo shop.   

            I cannot say very much about my time at Dark Side, other than to say that it was not entirely an enjoyable arrangement. Though I was very appreciative to have the chance to work there and continue to tattoo for a short time, I am glad I left, as it wasn’t my scene. As well, Cheech would continue to haunt me in other ways. He demanded a meeting with the shop’s owners to tell them “the truth” about me, and had already explained their accusations they had with me. The owners, being very important and intimidating men, decide to attend this “meeting” and to be shown the “proof” they had hung over my head before, but had not disclosed. The result of the meeting was the owners’s return a few minutes later, informing me that there was no proof or any validation to what they had accused me of, and I assume they were informed that it would be in their best interest to leave me be, for their sake. But this only added to my miseries, as now I felt that things had been tainted for me at Dark Side as well.  After a week or so, I parted company with Dark Side, and do not regret it.

            I was getting sick of it all: tattooing, Welland, cheapskates, Cheech, my dead-end job, déjà vu, I had been here already, and was the best I could hope for? It felt as if this was the best I was going to get here, and I could go no further. I was to be small time in a small town where nothing changed and I only grew older and bitter. I had begun correspondence with friends through the internet, telling them of my trials and tribulations, and how much I wished to escape this routine. One of them, a good friend I had not seen in ten years since he had moved, suggested I come out west to Edmonton where he was. At that time, Alberta was experiencing an economic boom, thanks to the oil, and it seemed to be the place to be for work. He offered an opportunity to gain employment screen printing t-shirts (my other creative passion) through someone he knew, and a place to stay. I jumped at the chance, and began making plans to lave in two months.

            I spent the next number of weeks feeling very liberated. All that I had ever known was in Welland, and I had lived almost my entire life there. It had become a place of gloom for me, every day melting into another, every single day being as mindless and thoughtless as the next. I knew every single crack in every single sidewalk, every single face had become too familiar, and the opportunities were extremely limited. We were becoming a rust-belt town and I was growing weary of it. I felt it no longer had anything to offer me. I will always love my hometown in a poetic, romantic way, and have many friends there still, but I knew I would be leaving for a long time, and doubted my permanent return. It will always have a special place in my mind and heart, and a million memories will remain there, and I will never forget them. I would always remember the countless nights in the quiet streets on my bike, the long evenings as the gentle water of the Old Canal slowly flows, the countless doobies smoked on The Island, the crazy nights of racing against the dawn after the bars had long since closed and all that were left were the last and few friends with nothing else to do. I enjoyed them all again, if it were to be the last time. I spent a few nights with close friends and promises of future visits that I doubted would happen, and the last time I would ever see some people. It pained me at times to know I would be going across the country to a place I did not really know, to a good friend I had not seen in many years, and I also had doubts and fears. But a larger force was at work, and it urged me westward.

            I gave away much of my stuff, leaving myself only the basics of stuff and things and clothes to have shipped. In the end, I had reduced all the material things that defined me to two large crates, shipped by courier, two large suitcases for the flight, a backpack, and my cat. I also saved myself $200 to bring with me. And, at the end of April 2006, I boarded a flight bound for Edmonton, and did not look back the whole time.

 

Reviews

[LisetteCanWrite!]

Hi James... great job .. I read this chapter and the previous one as well.. you certainly write truth all the way, since high school you always were such a good honest person.. which is great I am the same way.. (other than writing a few fantasies and such).. leaving Welland would be a great thing.. Ontario as a whole is doing very poorly.. Niagara Falls is not much better but just starting to pick up a little! I hope you find your dreams out west.. I know I really enjoyed my vacation out there as there is so much beautiful scenery, fresh air and well just better living!!! Keep writing and again thanks for directing my out here with my writing.. you are an inspiration! I would get a tatoo from you but I am afraid of needles!!! I also can't think of any piece of art I would want permanently on my body! I like too much art too much ... =)