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CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sunday, June 20
(it’s all a blur)
A sterile whitecotton gauze patch is taped over my lower back and side. The artist who inked me gives me instructions I don’t even register. My head feels fuzzy, and I’m pretty sure I passed out right before he finished. I’m sure Connor knows what to do. My job is just to keep breathing. Thank God, the bees have stopped at least. The relief of not being tattooed eases me a bit. I can finally unclench my teeth and relax, so I do. So much so, I dose off while Connor goes next. He won’t tell me what he's had stamped on me or what he’s having put on his own body.
We get back to the hotel and he carries me back to our room. I am so tired. Emotionally worn out. Spent. I still feel the bite of the tattoo needle. It hurts. But now, I’m just too exhausted to care.
I drift off to sleep with visions of yellow jackets chasing me through a hayfield. I run as fast as I can toward a creek. The water swirls and coils up from the riverbed following the trail of a bird in flight and then rises up into the air. It darkens and morphs into the giant mouth of a snake, fangs bared. Behind me the bees swarm. In front of me, the water snake is set to strike. I scream until my lungs explode. Then, from out of the rays of the sun, a lion descends to scoop me into his jaws. My legs collapse, and the world goes blank.
I wake up sweating and find someone touching me. Connor is touching me. It stings where his fingers lightly brush against my back. It burns, and I want him to stop. I open my eyes and see I’ve collapsed onto a chair in the Minnow Bucket. I have no idea how I got here and I don’t care. My head swims and my stomach hurts. I close my eyes and pray the spinning and weariness subside.
When I wake again, we are moving. Connor is driving and I’m asleep on the bed in the back of our RV. How long have I been lying here? My eyes strain to focus, but I finally see a sign that says we are just seventy-eight miles from Washington, D.C. Whoa! What happened to me?
“Hey, Little Bird,” Connor calls to me from the driver’s seat. “You need to get up. Come sit up here with me.”
I move slowly. The patch of skin over my back feels numb. I want to pull the patch off and see what Connor has had inked on me.
“Don’t,” Connor says, spying on me through the fancy camera system he uses to see the back of the RV. “It’ll gross you out to look at it now. It’s bloody and scabbed and you won’t appreciate the design. Give it another few hours or so.”
“What did you put on me?” I ask. My arms and legs feel as if my bones are filled with lead. They’re so heavy. I move slowly up to the front and flop down into the captain’s chair next to Connor.
“Drink,” he says, pointing to a large soda in the cupholder. I twist the cap and do what he says. I pause before putting it to my lips and give him a long, hard stare.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “You’re OK. You passed out at the shop for a while. I feel really bad you were in so much pain. You’ve been sleeping all day. I guess last night really did you in.”
“How long did I sleep?” I ask, realizing I do actually feel rested for the first time since we set out on our cross-country road trip in the Minnow Bucket.
Connor looks at the clock. “About sixteen hours.”
“Sixteen hours? Are you kidding?”
Connor shakes his head. “How do you feel?”
I pause and consider his question. I take stock of myself. The place on my hip and a little up toward my rib cage is sore, but not hurting. My body feels a bit sluggish, but otherwise, I actually feel pretty good. I feel totally rested for the first time in days. My head is clear and I don’t feel anxious about anything. I do feel something, however.
“Hungry,” I reply.
“We can stop in fifteen minutes, or you can grab a candy bar from the back. I’m sure you’re starved.”
I grab one of his favorite candy bars, unwrap it and break it in two. I give him the larger of the two pieces and he smiles at me with his little grin.
“Connor,” I say, letting the chocolate, caramel and nuts roll around on my palate. Inner Foodie is singing. “Did I pass your girlfriend test?”
“It wasn’t a test, Lainey Bird. But if it were, you’d have passed with flying colors. I’m sorry it was a bit more than you could handle. I didn’t think the design would be that involved. But you’re going to love it. Will you forgive me for that, Raven?”
“I forgive you,” I say. I take another swallow of my soda before handing him the bottle. He takes a long drink and hands it back.
“But Connor, you should know,” I add emphatically, “I don’t think I’ll want to do that ever again.”
“No, probably not,” Connor smiles.
My skin itches around my new tattoo, and I’m honestly shocked I actually went through with getting it. I can’t believe I let him talk me into something so … so permanent. And yet, he didn’t talk me into anything, really. When he suggested it, it was unexpected, but the more I considered it while we drove to the tattoo parlor, the more I realized I wanted this. Not for him. For me.
I look over and watch him while he drives. I thumb through my Instagram account at all the new likes and followers I’ve gained after posting pictures of us at the concert, backstage with the band and then later at the after-party. #limitlessrocks Ugh, that party. I can’t be mad at Becca, though. If it wasn’t for her, I doubt I’d be looking over at myboyfriendright now. My boyfriend.
I shoot a text over to Willow.
