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He finds a vacant spot on the street a block away from the shop and parks, laughing when I jump out of the van before he’s even killed the engine.
“Slow down, would ya?” He chuckles, climbing out of the driver’s seat.
Snagging his hand, we make our way toward the tattoo shop. I’ve never actually been inside one before but I’ve always wanted to. Seems pretty fitting that my first time would be in a shop that’s featured in one of my favorite books.
When we step inside, I look around the small space. From the various pieces of artwork on the walls to the countless tattoo books and magazines spread across the counter. Everything about this place is exactly as I pictured it in my mind.
“Let’s get tattoos,” I say, looking up at Abel right as a middle aged man appears behind the counter.
“What?” He smiles.
“You heard me, let’s get tattoos.” I turn my attention to the man as he stops in front of us. “Do you have time to do two tattoos?” I gesture between me and Abel.
“I think I could squeeze you in depending on what you’re wanting.” He nods, scratching the back of his shaved head. For some reason this reminds me of my head and I quickly move to adjust my beanie to ensure it’s in place.
“A name,” I blurt without giving it much thought.
“A name?” Abel arches a brow at me, humor dancing on his face.
“Script tattoos typically only take a few minutes depending on the size. If you’ll tell me what you’re wanting I can pull up some fonts for you to pick from.”
“Abel,” I say, turning my attention to the man. “I want it to say Abel.”
“Finley,” Abel starts but stops when he catches the look on my face. “I want mine to say Finley.”
I can’t contain the smile that lights up my entire face. I know it’s silly but there’s something so comforting about the thought of my name permanently tattooed on his skin. Like he will carry a piece of me always, even long after I’m gone.
Tattooing someone’s name on my body isn’t something I ever thought I’d do, but given the circumstances, it seems fitting. What does it matter anyway? Before long the tattoo will be gone, as will my body.
I push the thought away, refusing to let myself go there right now.
“Okay, let’s get the font and size dimensions worked out and we can get started.” He nods once before swiveling the computer screen toward us, a variation of fonts displayed across the screen.
I select a basic cursive script for my tattoo and to my surprise Abel chooses the same font. I don’t know if it’s because he liked it the best or because he wants our tattoos to match. Either way it makes me extremely happy.
Abel insists on going first so I can see what getting a tattoo entails before actually going through with it. I watch in complete fascination as Carl, the tattoo artist, etches my name in large cursive letters on Abel’s chest. Right above his heart.
I didn’t question why he chose to get the tattoo there instead of putting it on his arm that’s already covered in tattoos. But I like that my name is all by itself–close to his heart, where he can always keep me tucked away just for him. Of course, I don’t tell him that Jaxon got his tattoo in the same spot. It seems silly to compare a fictional character to the real thing.
It only takes Carl about forty minutes to finish up Abel’s tattoo. When he wipes away the excess ink and shows off the finished product I’m a ball of emotions. There’s something to be said about seeing your name etched into someone’s skin. And while I’ve known all along that Abel loves me, I feel it now more than ever.
“You ready?” Abel grins at me as we switch places and I climb into the tattoo chair. Sliding his shirt over his head, careful not to disrupt the clear wrap taped over his tattoo, he plops down in the chair on the opposite side of Carl and takes my hand.
“I think so.” I give him a nervous smile. While the whole process seemed pretty painless for Abel, I have a sinking feeling it’s going to hurt a lot more than he led on.
“You’ll do great,” he reassures me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
I decide to get Abel’s name on the inside of my wrist. I want it somewhere I can see anytime I want.
“What do you say after this we go grab some dinner and check out the night life? This is, after all, one of the places you wanted to see the most. We should make the best of it while we’re here.”
“I’d love that,” I admit, jumping slightly when the needle touches my skin for the first time.
Abel keeps me talking the whole time Carl is working, no doubt trying to distract me. And while it definitely hurts, it isn’t nearly as bad as I expected it to be. It takes him less than twenty minutes to finish and when he’s done and I get my first real look at the tattoo I’m not sure if I want to laugh or cry.
To some it’s just a tattoo. To me, it’s something so much more. A memory. Another stolen piece of time that I get to take with me when this life is over.
As we make our way out of the tattoo shop hand in hand I feel freer than I have in a very long time. There’s something so liberating about finding acceptance. About making peace with what you cannot change.
