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“Are you back?” she asked.
Was it my imagination or was the childishness from her voice gone? Was it that I wished her to sound like an adult? Or did she really sound like an adult? Her voice deeper. Firmer. The confidence from standing on the same footing as someone else. Was she different? Or was it just that my defences were worn down? My morals abandoned? My conviction stamped out with my eye?
“I missed your birthday,” was what I said in return.
Aurnia, for the first time, ducked her eyes.
In a soft voice that nearly sent me running back out the door she said, “I know.”
“I didn’t get you a gift,” I said.
She lifted her eyes to mine. Said nothing.
I licked my lips. I squeezed my fingers to keep them from shaking. I exhaled as evenly as I could. “But I want to.”
Aurnia hesitated for a moment. “You want to…”
“Give you a gift,” I quickly said, nearly stumbling over my words.
I wanted to draw her hands into mine. I wanted to hold them tight against my chest. I wanted to beg her forgiveness for ever leaving, for ever laying my hands on her, for ever taking her out of her father’s house, for ever letting her be in her father’s house, for wanting her, for needing her, for hating her and loving her and wanting to give her everything and fearing I never could, knowing I never could.
“Name something,” I said when Aurnia remained silent. “Name anything.”
I said those words even as I knew they were impossible. I believed those words even as I was certain I could do no such thing as give her anything. I couldn’t even give her my presence on her fucking birthday. How in God’s name was I supposed to give her anything? With no money. With no certainty for the future. With whiskey on my breath, cocaine in my veins.
It should have been a miracle that Aurnia said anything at all. Instead of shoving me aside, stalking past me, and storming out that door.
She looked up at me and asked for something I could give her. Perhaps the one thing I was certain I couldn’t fuck up.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
Aurnia nodded. “I want a tattoo.”
I tried to bargain for something else. Something less permanent. Something without my fingerprints forever on her skin. Aurnia stopped me with her small hand on mine.
“I’ll have a tattoo or I’ll have nothing.”
I should have offered nothing. But she was close and her eyes were sweet and I wanted to give her the fucking world even if I knew tomorrow, I would destroy it.
“What kind of tattoo?” I asked.
Aurnia didn’t pause to think, to consider. She was as stupid as I was. As reckless, as dangerous. But she was a child. What fucking excuse did I have?
“I want you to draw something,” Aurnia answered. “I want you to draw something for me.”
“What do you want me to draw?” I asked.
In my mind, I was begging for direction. I was lost. I wanted Aurnia to show me the way. I needed Aurnia to show me the way. But Aurnia said nothing. Her eyes said nothing. Her breath, steady and even, said nothing.
“This is your first tattoo, Aurnia,” I insisted in a panic. “This is forever. You need to tell me.”
Aurnia slipped her fingers into mine. Without a word she led me to my tattoo chair. She climbed up onto it as I watched. She looked like a child using a stool to get to the kitchen counter. But when she turned to look at me, her hair darker even than the black leather, she looked like a woman waiting for me to join her in bed. Eyes hooded. Breath catching. Lips wet.
“Will you at least tell me where you want it?” I asked.
I could do nothing to stop Aurnia as she unbuttoned her jeans and slipped them off. The moment I caught sight of her pale skin in the pink neon…the moment I saw the hem of her simple black underwear…the moment I saw that she knew I was watching her…the moment I saw that she liked that I was watching her…I was helpless. Utterly helpless.
Aurnia smoothed her hand from the very top of her inner thigh down along her leg toward her knee.
