I bring my gaze back to the painting. “That’s so tragic and beautiful”.
“Talk about fate, right?” Eddie says as he finishes setting up his station.
“Seriously,” I reply as I look back at Leo, who is standing with his hands in his pockets, staring out the damn front window again, as if he is expecting someone. I leave my eyes on Leo a few seconds more. He must have felt the heat from my glare because he turns around and tries to shake off the notably concerned look on his face.
Oblivious to the tension forming between Leo and I, Eddie stands from his chair and claps his hands.
“Alright, I’m ready to start. Where are these pieces going, and who is my first victim?” Eddie laughs.
Leo and I briefly discussed the placement of our tattoos last night on our way home from the cemetery. I was surprised that Leo suggested our rib cages. Even I, being a tattoo virgin, know that the ribs are a notoriously painful spot for a tattoo. I was equally caught off guard because Leo has a decent-sized scar on the right side of his rib cage, where he told me he wanted his tattoo. I suggested getting it done on the other side, but he was adamant it needed to go on the right.
He never disclosed exactly what happened to him, I just know it was his father’s doing. From the little I know about Leo’s father; he was a cruel man who often lashed out at Leo.
Ever since Leo’s mother left his father, he doesn’t have anything to do with him. So, thankfully I never had to meet him. I don’t think I could ever break bread with a man who treated his son the way he treated Leo.
Since Leo doesn’t answer Eddie’s question, I speak up.
“Leo wants his on the right side of his rib cage, and I want mine on my left.”
Eddie chuckles, just as surprised as I was when Leo mentioned the rib cage placement in the first place.
“Alright, starting out the first tattoo with a bang. I like it,” he exclaims. “Ok, so, let me know what you think about the design, and then we can get started.” Eddie hands both of us a copy of the design he drew up. Just like in my poem, there are two pieces of a broken heart shaped as a locket. Instead of a key going through the keyhole, there is a skeleton hand holding a needle and thread to go through the locket. I love the subtle nod to Jack and Sally in the design.
“Wow, it looks great. You took my girl’s art and turned it into a masterpiece,” Leo finally says to Eddie.
“Thanks, man,” Eddie says with pride. “Alright, sick. Who’s going first?” He asks, bouncing his eyes between the two of us.
I say nothing, because I would rather not go first, but naturally, Leo decides to act like a gentleman and suggests that I go first. I oblige simply because whatever mood Leo is in, it’s not worth arguing with him about who goes first. Part of me hopes that once Leo sees my tattoo begin to take shape, he will lighten up a bit.
I head toward the coffin-shaped, black leather chair. Eddie instructs me to lift the left side of my shirt up and thread my arm through the armhole, exposing my rib cage. I lay back on the leather chair, which is, thankfully, much sturdier than the old, crimson couch we sat on in the lobby. He begins to prep my skin and I startle as he dabs a cold paper soaked in rubbing alcohol on my ribs.
But the paper isn’t the only thing that makes me jump. Just as Eddie goes to sterilize my skin, I hear a loudpingcome from Leo’s phone. The tattoo shop has decently high ceilings, so it makes every sound appear louder than it is, due to the echo.
Leo steps back a few inches from where he is standing near my head to grab his phone from his pocket. The tension in his jaw returns as he reads the incoming text. Without responding to whoever texted him, he just slips his phone back into his pocket and returns to his stoic, silent state.
Me being me, unable to let anything go, I decide to break the silence. “Who was that?” I blurt.
“No one, just Titi Rose,” he mumbles.
“Everything ok?”
“It’s fine,” he mumbles, this time sounding more monotone.
I drop it … for now and smile at him as I hear the buzzing of the tattoo gun rev up.
Eddie dips the needle into the black ink. “Let’s get this show on the road,” he says.
“Let’s do this,” I respond as I stare at Leo. When he smiles back at me, I can’t help but look once more at the painting behind him zoning in on the small cursive words below the hummingbird.
Siempre.
The buzzing sensation from the tattoo gun isn’t anything as I expected. It hurts, sure, but it’s the kind of pain that lessens the more the adrenaline kicks in. With each stroke of the ink penetrating my skin, I become more focused on working through the pain. I can see why people become addicted to this. It’s an artsy way of embracing pain you endured while reminding yourself that you survived it. Left with a lifelong, beautiful reminder of that ability to push through,to survive.
The rest of the tattoo appointment is spent mostly in silence, aside from some small talk from Eddie. Leo contributed a little bit to the conversation, but not much. Even though the appointment didn’t go as I expected, the stabbing pain was worth every second to have such a sentimental first tattoo together. The black and grey design brings my poem to life in a way I never imagined.
About five hours pass when Eddie wraps up the last of Leo’s tattoo. After Eddie puts a plastic cover on Leo’s fresh ink, we walk up to the desk in the front of the shop to pay. Leo reaches for his wallet and brings me in close, kissing me softly on the cheek.
“It’s on me, babe,” he says, handing Eddie cash from his wallet.
