Page 47 of Born to be Wilder

“Have you lost your marbles?” Alice called.

“You can’t be serious!” Sylvie cried out. “Doris! Stop!”

I ignored them, the pull toward that neon sign like a beacon in a storm. Like God himself was pushing me to speeds my plantar fasciitis wouldn’t normally support.

“Doris is having a full psychotic break! This is awesome!” Marge laughed.

Sylvie and Alice continued screaming as they caught up to me when I reached the door with the name Ink and Iron stamped on the glass.

Sylvie caught my shoulders and spun me around, her wide eyes meeting mine. “Doris, you’ve been drinking! You rarely drink, and I cannot let you do something crazy like get a tattoo when you’re drunk!”

“I’m not drunk!” I argued, then pursed my lips. “Okay, I don’t like lying, so yes, I’m a little drunk, but that’s not why I want to do this.”

“Make it make sense.” Alice popped a hip, planting her hand on it. “Is this a head injury from when you fell off the bull?”

“Don’t talk her out of it. This is incredible!” Marge pushed past them. “Always wanted some ink! I think barbed wire around my bicep would be cool. Or maybe a flaming skull! Or both! Oh, man. This is awesome captaining, Doris. Go big or go home. I love it.” She rubbed her hands together, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“See!” I pointed at Marge, feeling the whiskey courage bubbling in my veins. “Marge gets it! And we all have to get them because they’ll be matching. It’s for the group!”

“Not happening.” Alice crossed her arms over her chest. “This body is a pristine masterpiece, Doris. I am not marring the canvas.”

“I’m out too,” Sylvie said. “I’m terrified of needles. Like, actually terrified. I once fainted getting a flu shot.”

“You fainted getting a flu shot?” Marge repeated.

“The nurse had to get me juice.”

I turned to face them fully. “I am the captain. And I say we are getting tattoos.”

They all started talking at once.

I straightened my Viking helmet and lifted my chin. “Listen to me. I would never have done this before. I thought the body was a temple, and you know you… you shouldn’t put graffiti on the walls. But now? I think... God made the world full of colors and colorful people. He created the singers who make the music we just danced to. He created the doctors who are going to save Alice’s life”—I looked pointedly at her—“and artists. He created them so they could fill His world with beauty. And then He created people who can put that beauty right on your skin. What’s sinful about that? Nothing, that’s what.”

I stepped closer to them, my voice dropping. “This Doris? New Doris? She’s saying God made ink. God made artists. And God stuck that neon sign right in front of my face as a beacon. I can feel it in my gut. He wants me to do this. So I’m doing it. I can’t force you, but I’m going in.”

I grabbed the handle and pulled.

Instead of whipping open with the dramatic flair I’d intended, it didn’t budge.

“What the heck?” I tugged again.

Nothing.

“Well,” Alice said, looking relieved, “it seems the Lord has spoken. He’s closed the shop.”

“No!” I pounded on the glass, pressing my face to it and peering in. Inside I saw a burly bearded man with a beanie and arms covered in dark sleeves of ink. Normally, I would have run screaming from someone who looked like him, but tonight I decided he was just one of God’s many colorful children. And he was the one that was going to give me my tattoo.

He looked toward the door, shook his head, and pointed to a sign that said CLOSED.

I pounded harder. I didn’t stop until he sighed, stomped over, and cracked the door a few inches, speaking through the gap.

“Sorry, ladies. I’m closed for the night. I was just cleaning up.”

“Please.” My voice cracked. “I have to do this. I need a tattoo. Tonight. If I go back to that RV and go to sleep, I’ll chicken out, and I’ll never be this brave again.”

“You mean you’ll sober up,” Alice muttered behind me.

I ignored her. “Please. I know it sounds silly but—it’s important.”