“This is my ma,” Mell says, introducing me to his mother as the two of them walk into the shop. “Siobhan O’Malley.” 

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. O’Malley,” I say with a grin, extending my hand to shake, “I’m Lola, Mell’s artist.”

Mrs. O’Malley takes my hand and shakes it firmly. “Pleasure to finally meet you,” She says excitedly, “Been looking forward to this. Yer work on my son is lovely.” Her Irish accent is lovely to listen to.

“Oh, thank you!” I exclaim, puffing my chest out slightly with pride, “It’s some of my favorite work that I’ve done. He sits like a rock, too.” 

Mell grins proudly. “Easy to sit for a tattoo when your career consists of getting punched in the face and other body parts by various people,” He jokes.

“So who wants to go first?” I ask cheerfully as I pull on a pair of gloves. I look expectantly at Mell and his mother. “Mrs. O’Malley? Would you like to go first?” I grin at her.

Mrs. O’Malley looks nervous. “Oh, I suppose so,” She says with a nervous chuckle. “I d’be a little anxious about the pain. I have no other tattoos at all so this will be my first one.” 

“I’ve drawn up a stencil for the poppy design and printed it out for each of you. Where would you like yours?” I ask.

“Was thinkin’ of putting it on my right shoulder blade,” She says with a thoughtful hum. “Would that be good?”

I smile at her. “It’s up to you, it’s going on your body,” I say with a soft chuckle.

“I think it’d look good there, Ma,” Mell says, encouraging his mother with his words. 

“I brang a tank top with me in case I decided put it there,” Mrs. O’Malley says, “Ye mind if I change?” She looks at the two of us. “Is there a bathroom in here?”

“It’s in the back, go ahead and change your shirt and then we’ll get started.” I say casually. Mrs. O’Malley nods and walks to the back, disappearing into the bathroom. I look at Mell. “Your mother is charming,” I say with a smile.

“She’s great,” Mell agrees as he scratches the back of his neck, “I couldn’t ask for a better or more supportive mother.” 

I take a seat on my rolling stool and gesture for Mell to take a seat in a chair next to the tattoo bed. It seems like Mell and his mother have a great relationship which is something I’ve always wanted with my own mother. That’s unlikely, probably impossible, with the way she treats me whenever we’re on speaking terms. “Good, you deserve that,” I say out loud to Mell, smiling softly at him. “So… did you enjoy my birthday party the other night?” I ask with a smirk.

“Yeah, it was fun. Nice to get out and have a few drinks and meet some people,” Mell says innocently. “It was nice of Lanie to invite me, and thanks for having me.”

“Speaking of Lanie,” I say slowly, a teasing tone in my voice, “When were either one of you going to tell me you locked lips at the party?”

“What?!” Mrs. O’Malley’s voice pierces through the shop as she rushes back, now dressed in a spaghetti strap tank top. “Is this the girl you told me about, lad?” She asks her son. 

“Oh my god,” Mell buries his face in his hands. “Ma, I- yes.” He says in a resigned chuckle, his secret now out in the open. “Well, they’re not a girl. Yet.” He has a slightly confused expression on his face as he talks about Lanie. “I mean… Well, I’m not sure.”

I laugh. “Lanie isn’t sure either right now. Nonbinary pronouns are what they want until further notice.”

“Ah, I see,” Mrs. O’Malley says in a pensive tone, “Well, that doesn’t bother me at all at all,” she grins and punches Mell in the arm. “You didn’t tell me things with the lass went well after all!”

“Ouch, ma,” Mell laughs, “Well they did and we’re official now.” He points to the tattoo bed. “Now sit down so Lola can tattoo you.” 

“Sure, sure,” Mrs. O’Malley takes a seat on the table facing away from me. “How much is this going to hurt?”

“A lot,” I say truthfully, “But we can take as many breaks as you need, if you need them.” 

“I’ll sit like a rock just like my son,” Mrs. O’Malley promises me, and she does just that. 

Mell and Mrs. O’Malley talk back and forth to each other while I work. I sometimes get engrossed in my work if it’s something I’m especially enjoying working on and forget to talk with others until they start the conversation (It’s happened with Mell each time I’ve tattooed him), but the two of them seem to be enjoying talking amongst themselves so I feel fine going about my business.

I wish Mrs. O’Malley was my mom. I have my grandmother and had my grandfather as parental figures in my life but it doesn’t feel the same to me as if I had a mom. My mom, Grace, still calls me by my deadname and male pronouns. She acts like she loves me but if she really loved me she’d accept me for who I am.

Grace is stuck in her ways as a wannabe “Boy Mom” though. She also ruined every relationship I ever had in high school due to not being the focus of my attention anymore.

“This is my son, Chance,” Grace says proudly as she introduces me to her new boyfriend. He actually looks like he’s her age this time which is an improvement to the last one, who was my age.

He looks confused and looks around. “Am I missing something?” He asks, laughing awkwardly. 

“No, you’re not,” I say bluntly. “She’s talking about me. Hi, I’m Lola.” I give him a tight smile and extend my hand, trying to play nice. He shakes it hesitantly.

“Chance is a dancer,” Grace continues with her delusions. She wants me to be someone I won’t ever be. 

“I haven’t danced since high school,” I tell the boyfriend, whose name I don’t care to learn. He won’t last long anyway. They never do, because Grace is a fucking nutcase. “I’m a tattoo artist.”

There’s a sour look on Grace’s face. “Give us a moment,” She says to the baffled man, and drags me off to the side some distance away. “Sweetie, can you behave for mommy?” She asks me, all sickly sweet and fake.

I feel like I could throw up. “I don’t know why I came today,” I say, poison in my voice. “You’re fucking insane. You always are. I wish you’d treat me with some basic decency, at least, and use my real name and call me your daughter. And I’m not a three year old, I’m 22. stop talking to me like I’m a toddler.”

“Honey, your real name is Chance.” She talks to me like she’s concerned I hit my head or something. “Someday you’ll realize that.” She smiles a little too wide at me. “Now come on, behave.”

“Okay, you’re all done, Mrs. O’Malley,” I pipe up, interrupting their conversation by accident. I wasn’t paying attention to what they were talking about. I check my watch. It’s been two hours, between the lining and the color. “Wanna take a look in the mirror?”

“Yes!” Mrs. O’Malley hops off the tattoo bed and I hand her a handheld mirror so she can see her back in the full length mirror. She gasps. “Oh, this is lovely. Thank you so much!”

I smile at her and stretch, my back cracking. I shake my hand and wrist out. “My pleasure,” I say sincerely. 

The tattoo design is two poppies intertwined with two buds that haven’t bloomed into flowers yet. It’s colored in red for the flower and green for the stems, leaves and buds, with some yellow in the flowers as well. I think it looks beautiful and I know it’ll look great over Mell’s heart as well. I think it’s sweet that the two of them want matching tattoos.

I put the bandage over Mrs. O’Malley’s tattoo and turn to Mell. “Alright Mell, it’s your turn. You ready?”

“You bet,” Mell says with a chipper grin. He pulls his shirt off and climbs onto the table.