She Just Wanted a Tattoo

"It's a bad omen," she told her daughter.

"Says who?" replied Aya.

"People that matter," quipped her mother. "They understand these things. And it's Haram, you know what that means right, forbidden, against our religion."

Aya fires back with sarcasm. "Forbidden, that's a surprise. What isn't forbidden Mom, tell me?"

"I didn't make the rules Aya, it just is." Her mother counters.

Aya wasn't giving up. "Were people even getting tattoos back then?"

"What am I, Nostradamus?" her mother half joked.

Aya laughed slightly, but remained steadfast. "Mom, he made predictions for the future, he wasn't a religious scholar."

Her mother wasn't giving an inch. "Neither are you Aya. You're going to be a lawyer. What kind of lawyer has writing on her skin, ha?

"Oh my God, Do you ever question why these things are, (making a getture in air quotes) 'Haram'." Aya fired back.

"No, that's also haram, you know." her mom replied.

"Yes, yes, forbidden, I know." Aya frustratingly conceded and walked away.

Why even argue with her? It's useless. Logic doesn't apply in these matters. Things have been written, or just are. Nevermind no one can offer Aya explanations why.

I'm going to find the answers, she thought, then I'll show her how silly all of these things are.

Things just are

Why do some things become bad omens; owls, the flip side of shoes, or spilled salt? These things never made sense to Aya.

Black cats were just fine, but owls were not. Spilling coffee was good luck, but spill salt and you'll have to pick up every single grain with your eye lashes in the afterlife. And don't even get her started on shoes being wrong side up. That's enough to get a pair launched your way by an angry mother.

For as long as she could remember, Aya had a fondness for what her family considered macabre. As a child, she nursed a small owl back to health. The poor bird had a run in with a feral black cat. Imagine that. Two animals on the opposite ends of the mythological spectrum, in her culture anyway.

How could she let the poor owl die? To Aya, these birds were absolutely majestic. Even the sound they made put her at ease.

And now, to mark her independence and individuality, Aya wanted a tattoo were her shoulder meets her neck. She could think of nothing better than an owl. This way, anyone sitting, standing, or walking behind her would see an owl staring right back.

Her one mistake though, was having an artist friend draw it up. Her mother 'found' the rendering and the barrage of questions began.

As far as interrogators go, Aya's mother could head the FBI. She had a way of smelling lies and reading eyes. In her life, Aya has yet to put anything past her.

Not only did her mom take issue with the tattoo, but an owl no less? Her daughter wanted that creature of sin on her skin? Her mother would never let it happen.

Strictly for the birds

The English language is loaded with expressions that are lost in translation; especially if you're an older immigrant.

Aya's mother hated the expression, 'Cold Turkey'. Her friend, who she enjoyed spending time and smoking cigarettes with, quit that habit, 'Cold Turkey'. And she said so, a lot. When they were in a group, and someone asked her how she quit, she simply answered; "Cold turkey."

What the heck does that even mean, Aya's mother thought to herself. Of course, she was too proud to ask anyone and eventually looked it up for herself.

Americans sure have some silly expressions. And why the obsession with turkeys? Not only was there 'cold turkey', but you had 'stuffed like a turkey', and one she's never even heard called 'jive turkey'.

She equated her friend quitting smoking, and no longer sharing a mutual activity, oddly enough, with a giant bird. She began to hate anything and everything with feathers. The thought of her daughter permanently wearing an owl was a thought she couldn't bear.

Nevermind Aya explained to her all the majesty of birds generally, and owls specifically. Why she wanted one to be physically with her at all times. How it would protect her, like armor, feathers on her skin.

Aya would tell her mother those rare moments they were both willing to talk. Have you seen an owl without feathers? They're unrecognizable, some muscle, but practically skin and bones. That's how I feel without a tattoo. I need them for protection.

"Protection from what?" her mother would ask.

"Everyone." her daugher replied.

This just left her mother concerned and confused. When pressed, Aya, would change the topic, or walk away.

It's not polite to stare

With her mother, Aya appeared confident, even independant, but to the outside world, she was anything but. This made for few friends, and fewer dates. Not that she wanted to go on any, the thought alone made her skin crawl.

In one of her classes, Aya would regularly catch a guy seated behind her staring. He would immediately look away the second she turned around.

What the heck was he staring at and why?

One day, Aya decided she had enough.

She waited outside of class a few extra seconds for everyone to settle in and sit down. She walked towards her usual seat, dropped a folded piece of paper in the lap of the boy she regularly caught staring, and continued along.

The boy picked up the note and watched as Aya sat down. He held the paper in his hands and looked around the lecture hall. No one seemed to have noticed. He unfolded the piece of paper...

It was an immaculate Barn owl, eyes piercing the page, captioned:

It's not polite to stare

He could hear his heartbeat, his breath, it felt like time stood still. Should he even look up and risk making eye contact with her? Talk about confused. He didn't even realize she noticed him looking. Not like he did it regularly. At least, he didn't think he did.

Finally, he worked up the courage to look her way. She was facing forward though. His heartbeat began to ease, and he began to breathe normally. He even managed a slight smile, that's when Aya turned back. A, 'how does that feel' smirk began to grow on her face. He returned a guarded smile, and quickly looked down.

He retrieved a notebook from his backpack and began to write. He used a pencil, then a pen, then a yellow highlighter. He worked for the entire class period.

As the teacher concluded class and dismissed the students. The boy tore the page from his notebook, folded it and approached Aya. He handed it to her, smiled, and walked off.

She unfolded the paper.

Under the hand drawn creature, a note read:

Sorry, I didn't think anyone noticed me

Aya stood there looking down at this note. Her mind, having a tendency to overanalyze everything, went into hyperdrive.

What does this mean? Is he saying he's invisible, like a white owl in a field of snow? Why the bird in flight, is he fleeing? Or are his wings meant to represent open arms? Wow, this could be deep, or, just a silly reply. Did he draw this just now? I would have never taken him for an artist.

As other students began making their way into class, she realized she was now running late for her next one. She placed the note in her bag and hurried off.

Birds of a feather

Aya began to make a plan for the next lecture.

What should I do? Arrive late so he's sitting and I hand him a note? Or, maybe I show up early in the hope he gives me a note? Should I even go to class? Maybe I drop it altogether. Why is life so complicated?

She decided the best option was not to change anything at all. She would show up, same time as always, use the same door, and sit in her same spot.

She walked towards the lecture hall, and began to have second thoughts.

Maybe I shouldn't go in. Why? Why would I not do something? Is it based on someone? Why should I let someone else affect my decisions? Stop it Aya, do you want to go in? Of course you do. Then just move your feet and go in.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted with... "Hi." She turned around.

"Are you Ok? You've been standing there for, I don't know, a long time."

It was the boy from class. But, why was he here.

"What are you doing here?" Aya asked him.

"Uhm, going to class, I'm.."

"Yes, I know who you are, but you're out here, and not in there. You're supposed to be in there already." Aya demanded.

"I was debating if I should... I guess we're both late." The boy looks to his watch. "Oh no, if we don't hurry, the professor locks the door. Come on." The boy begins to run, Aya quickly follows.

They make their way inside the building into the hall, as they walk towards their class, the doors close. Silence, followed by a loud click, the doors lock.

The boy turns to Aya, "Looks like we're locked out."

"That's what it looks like." She replies.

"Since, we're not doing anything... I mean, for the next hour."

Aya eyes him in silence.

"You like coffee? Or are you more of a smoothie person? It's not a date or anything. I'm happy to stand outside and watch birds in silence."

Aya sighs slightly. "About that, why an owl?"

"No. No. No. You first."

The two laugh awkwardly, and head outside.

Free as a bird

Aya's mother was, once again, concerned. Her daughter wasn't her usual self. She seemed a little more carefree. Being a mother, she was naturally curious as to how or why this came about.

One day, she decided to peak into Aya's school bag and see if there was anything notable in there.

She found the sketched owl note that read, 'Sorry, I didn't think anyone noticed me."

This is it! She got the tattoo! Of an owl no less. That's how she wants to get noticed.

She quickly folded the note and put it back where it was.

Aya's mother waited for her to came home. As Aya walked through the door, her mother grabbed her, hugged her, looked her dead in the eyes.

"I see you. You hear me? Let me look at you." She attempted to find any evidence of a tattoo on Aya's body. "Did you do it Aya, please tell me you didn't."

Aya quickly pulls back. "Mom, easy, are you ok? Did what, what are you talking about?"

"The tattoo. Did you write on yourself Aya?"

"No, I didn't, don't worry." Then in a softer tone, she said, "not yet."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, I love you Mom." Aya assured her.

"Good, yes, but love yourself too Aya. Ok."

Aya became suspicious. "I am. I do. Why are you acting like this?"

The interrogator wasn't used to having the tables turned. "Like what?"

Aya knew her mother had either seen or heard something, she just didn't know what. She decided to put her mother's mind at ease, "Don't worry. No tattoo. I love myself. I love you too."

Before Aya walked away, she put her hands on her mother's shoulders and told her, "Mom, repeat after me... My life is mine. I live for me."

"What?"

"Just say that please... My life is mine, I live for me."

"My life is mine, I live for me."

"Great, now you don't have to go through my things or ask anyone what I'm up to, ok?" Aya's mother was taken aback. She knows I looked in her bag!

As Aya walked away she smiled, turned back and said, "You too, can be free."