Hey Readers,
This story shares the same universe as my other works, but can stand on its own. No particular content warnings here other than like, sex and mild alcohol use.
I hope you enjoy!
***
The clouds hung low over Chicago. Small drops of rain began falling around the Green Mill Jazz Club and Cocktail Lounge as Ivy stood outside against the wall, a cigarette between her fingers and her jacket hood pulled up over her head. The cool air bit at her fingers and toes, but she needed to wait just a little longer and smoke just a little bit more before she could go in.
The last thing she wanted was for some patron to mistake her condition as a tattoo and make a big scene when it moved.
She unzipped her jacket a little and took a quick glance down her shirt and at her chest. The small brown spot above her right breast had a small green leaf retracting into it, and in a few moments, after she finished her cigarette, she knew that the small seed would stay shut until sunrise, and she could enter into the club without concern.
She remembered the stories her parents would tell about when she was born. Doctors all around the city were unable to figure out what the brown spot was. They figured it was a birthmark, but it felt like a solid mass underneath the skin. They thought it could just be a birth defect, but were unable to remove it for reasons they couldn't really explain with their scientific knowledge. They had no way to know that when Ivy grew into an independent woman, it would begin to grow long strands of Ivy underneath her skin, like a seed for ever shifting body art.
Ever since the day the seed cracked open, she feared that her life could fall apart at any moment. She was just a normal woman working a normal job with normal people. The last thing she wanted was to lose it all because she was seen as a freak.
As time went on, she began to notice the various effects of her condition. When she was in the sun, she could feel her brain releasing dopamine and the vines of Ivy would grow and tangle around her skin, trying to soak up every drop of light. She found it hard to resist standing outside, but the deep sense of shame she felt over her plant-like growth kept her covered from head to toe in public, even in the summer.
On the other hand, she found that the nights would bring with them a strong sadness and depression, unable to find the drive to do anything but sulk and sleep. As the days shortened in winter, and the darkness consumed many of her waking hours, she started to get desperate. She took up smoking to try and ease the pain of her sorrows, and to her surprise, it held back the growth of the ivy. She began to go to parties and late night shows to try and alleviate the pain and loneliness that the dark brought. Eventually, her days were spent fueling her insatiable hunger for happiness in the night.
It wasn't the life she wanted, but it was all she felt she could do to escape her sadness and avoid being shunned for her strange condition.
She finished her cigarette and snuffed it out on the wall before flicking it toward a nearby trash can. The rain was picking up as she went inside.
The lights were dim and a small band played on stage while patrons got drinks, enjoyed their time with friends, and vibed with the music. She approached the bar and leaned against the polished dark wood, her hand raised to get the bartender's attention.
"Ivy, back again I see!" the man behind the bar said between orders at the other end. He scrawled on his notepad before putting it down behind him and coming her way to mix a drink. "Do you want a tequila sunrise, or something different this time?"
"I'll have the usual, thanks."
He gave her a wink and a quick thumbs up before returning to his drink mixing for those who ordered before her. She looked up at the clock. It was half an hour before eleven. Thirty minutes of being alone before she had her chance to see her again.
A jazz club was not normally a place she would consider a good time, and by no means was it under most circumstances, but this club had a special performance that she never wanted to miss. On Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays every week, a woman named Summer would come to play piano on stage. Her playing was unlike anything Ivy had seen before, not necessarily in skill, but in the raw emotion she conveyed through her art. It was like she was opening her heart up, one key at a time.
When Summer played on rainy days, she would end her half hour performance with a special song that she called "Who I am in the rain". It was slow and melancholic, as if the rain was what washed away the barriers she held in her heart.
It struck a chord deep within Ivy. It spoke to her protective instincts. She wanted to hold that precious and delicate heart in her hands and make sure it was never hurt again. At the same time, she felt like she could relate to Summer. She held the pain of hiding her condition so deep within her, blocked away from the world, and she wished she could express it somehow to someone.
After Summer finished playing, she would almost always stay for a bit longer and chat with patrons or sit down with her friends for a few drinks before she would go. The first couple times Ivy saw her perform, she caught her leaving under a woman's arm. Ivy was determined to talk to her one day, and see if she could be the one holding her under her arm.
"Tequila sunrise," the bartender announced, sliding the drink Ivy's way. She broke from her thoughts and looked up at his smile.
"So, what brings you here? I don't see you often, but you sure do make one hell of an impression," he said. Ivy was at a loss for words. Men usually got her lesbian vibe pretty quick, and didn't approach her. She didn't know if he was just nice or flirting.
"I'm guessing that's supposed to be a compliment?" she replied, taking her drink and turning to go to a table on her own.
"You come here to see Summer, right?" he asked. Ivy stopped and turned back to him. He was still smiling.
"Yeah, I do."
"She's pretty talented. If you get her a rum and coke, I bet she'll come talk to you after her show," he said, nonchalantly wiping down the counter.
"I'll... keep that in mind. Thanks," she replied, unsure of his intentions. Was he playing her wingman, or just looking to cause trouble? Knowing she wouldn't have to tell him off for flirting was at least some comfort.
Ivy took a seat near the corner, giving her a good view of the stage. Without a dance floor to get lost in, she preferred to play the part of the wall flower, hanging back and observing the life around her. She felt alone in the club, but she always came when it rained so Summer could remind her that she wasn't.
